Gold Fever Page 2

  "Barbara Lane.” Her angry voice sounded almost sexy with its raspy tone.

  "You're Buster's daughter?"

  "No. I just told you. I am Joseph Lane's daughter. Do you have a hearing problem?"

  Apparently she never knew her father was known around these parts as Buster, not Joseph. He smirked at her comment, chuckling to himself. That snippy attitude would help him keep his cock under control. She was far too tempting under him. He could feel every curve of her, his groin nestled into hers as if it belonged there, and the way she wiggled made him loathe to make a move to get off her.

  Begrudgingly, he got off her, and noticed she was suddenly aware of his near naked state. She gawked at him before turning away with a blush to stare at the ground. He stretched out his hand to help her up to a sitting position and she reluctantly took it.

  It was plain to him that she was an innocent. She looked at him as if she had never seen a naked man before, and Vincent didn't mind the way her gaze had drifted curiously over his body. He knew he turned most of the ladies’ heads, but she was different somehow in the way she tried to keep her eyes modestly avoiding him. Though he could tell her body was reacting to his as well, and not from fear.

  He pulled her close to him, but not touching her intimately. Making him acutely aware of her body.

  "It's my pleasure to meet you, my dear. My name is Vincent Waverly."

  * * * *

  Irritated, she blew out a breath with a huff. The man was making it impossible not to like him. Worse, her body was responding to the proximity of his as if she were a common doxy. She placed her hands between them, pushing up against his chest. He had to leave. He didn't belong here, and she did. So, it was time to rectify the situation. “I wish I could agree, Mr. Waverly, but I am not fond of trespassers, and you are trespassing."

  He rolled over, placing a hand over hers and pulling her on top of him. She sat on his lap as he lay there under her, just enjoying the view of her full breasts rising and falling with each breath. He withdrew his hand from hers before crossing his arms over his well-muscled chest. One eyebrow raised high in amusement as she spoke.

  "Mr. Waverly, I don't know how long you have been living in that house, but it is my house now. So now that I am here, I would appreciate if you gather your things and leave."

  "Really?” he questioned, his voice lightly mocking.

  "Yes.” She swallowed hard. What if he refused her request? He didn't look like he wanted to leave. She would have to go to the sheriff and get him thrown out. There was just no way he could go on living with her in that house. No respectable lady would even consider it. So what if the idea made her pulse pound in her ears. So what if he had one of the most attractive bodies she had ever seen.

  All the more reason for him to leave now.

  He didn't belong here and she did.

  "Too bad, lady. I am not leaving.” With that, he shoved her away from him, walking past her and straight back to her house.

  That defiant action fueled Barbara's anger.

  It was her house.

  What did he mean he wasn't leaving?

  Her sharp intake of breath wasn't enough to get his attention, so she let out a cry of frustration, before running after him. Her feet barely touched the ground in her haste.

  Barbara clutched his arm. “Why not? It's my house."

  "It's also my house. Buster and I were partners, my dear.” He carefully unlatched her fingers from his arm. “I own half that house and half of that claim and you aren't getting rid of me that easily."

  Barbara's legs froze in place, shocked. She watched his solidly built body disappear into the house. She wasn't prepared for this revelation. She wanted to see proof of what he said was true. How could this have happened? Nothing in her father's will had said anything about him having a partner.

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  Chapter Four

  Vincent woke to a warm female body next to his. Soft, long legs intertwined with his. Her skin carried the clean scent of honey and lavender. He was tempted to touch her and pull her into his body, but thought the better of such wicked ideas.

  She would be hell to live with if she thought he had taken advantage of her, and right now it was more like she was taking advantage of him. He grinned, nuzzling his face into her soft hair. She was the one who sought out his body heat in the night. She was the one who kicked her skirts up, and she was the one who made the decision to sleep in the same bed. So, it was her fault their legs were now intertwined, and their bodies were so very close.

  Last night he thought about being the gentleman and giving up his bed to her, but he was damned if he was going to let some female into his life and turn his world upside down. It was his bed, damn it. She came in here demanding he give up his house and when she asked him for the bed there was no way he was about to give it to her. Not after the condescending way she treated him. She could sulk all she wanted, but a man had limits. Buster and he had been able to share the full-size bed, and he was fine with it. Barbara could act like an adult about it, too. It wasn't like he planned on seducing her or anything.

  She had fallen asleep long after him. Now he was taking advantage, savoring a slow perusal of her body when she still had an angelic look on her face from her dreams, not those pursed lips and devilish tongue that lashed out at him. She didn't have that constant frown on her face and she wasn't glaring at him for once. Instead, soft eyelashes brushed her skin. Her full chest rose and fell in gentle even breaths.

  God, and what a delicious chest it was. Full, ripe, womanly breasts that were generously overflowing her chemise. She could get a job with the saloon in town as soon as they took one look at those beauties. She had assets that would draw a crowd, and keep business coming back for more. He would certainly pay to have her. Although, bringing her to Annie's Saloon wasn't something he wanted to do anytime soon. Sharing her with another man didn't appeal to him, and Vincent was a frequent visitor to the saloon. Barbara wasn't the type of lady who would understand about his dalliances.

  He frowned at that thought. It wasn't like he planned on changing his life around for her, but sure enough, the changes had already started. He was going to have to not do the things that could offend a delicate woman. Which meant too many changes in his life.

  No more whoring.

  No more gambling.

  She probably would try to put an end to his drinking, too.

  Damn women always want to change a man.

  Which was a very good reason not to have just one woman in his life.

  Women complicated things.

  She murmured in her sleep, nestling into the crook of his arm, and he stopped resisting the temptation to put his arm around her. He cradled her with his other arm. Damn, but she was a tempting wench. Such a soft delicate flower would be snatched up in no time if any of the men from town knew she was here. Especially if she did not have a husband.

  That thought put a foul taste in his mouth. Somehow he didn't want to believe that she was another man's wife. Certainly a husband wouldn't allow such a woman to go unaccompanied into the west? No, she could not possibly be married. A snake of worry worked itself into his stomach, twisting his gut.

  Not that he should be concerned about that. Where had that thought come from? He was not a jealous man. He had no intention of marrying her or anyone else. Marrying was the end of a man's freedom, and he intended to be free as long as possible. He chuckled softly to himself. That was when the sleeping angel turned into the hellion he met last night.

  Her eyes flew open and he watched the emotions cross her face, reading them as plain as any book.

  First there was alarm, then shock, then she had to be remembering what passed between them last night, because finally the only expression left on her face was that same evil glare he remembered from the night before.

  Wild and untamed.

  Those were the words that came to his mind to describe her. Her hair fell softly around her face, like a golden halo, and her angelic face hardened into the perfect seraphim, God's warrior. Her fair features, stood out as perfect as those of a doll. Although her blue eyes were icy, and her lips pursed shut, she was still too beautiful to resist.

  He felt an intense need to tame that wild spirit of hers. He wanted to kiss her. Break her like a wild horse. He doubted that any man had tamed her.

  Only an innocent would blush at the sight of seeing a man's naked chest. Or wake up indignant to find herself wrapped up in his arms, when she put herself there. One side of his mouth kicked up as he entertained the delightful thought of teaching her what it meant to submit to him.

  "How dare you!” she hissed.

  He grinned at her, amused at her sudden viciousness. “Good morning, sugar. Just when I thought there may have been a nice side to you—you go and spoil it."

  "You—you—you irritating man!” She attempted to wriggle out of his legs and free herself, but he locked his legs together tighter, denying her any escape. She pushed at his chest, her hands splaying in his chest hair as she cried out, “Let me go!"

  "Maybe if you tried asking nicely."

  "You don't deserve to be asked nicely.” She stilled her wrestling for a moment before gritting out the word, “Please."

  Suddenly he released her and she darted up off the bed, muttering under breath, “You are such a horse's ass."

  "Now that doesn't sound very much like the polished young lady I imagined you to be.” He sat up slightly on one elbow.

  She turned around to glare at him, ignoring his laughter.

  "Well, if you were a gentleman, you would have given up the bed last night as I requested.” Her hands went to her hips, defiantly.

  "I would have. If it was to a lady."

  She was silent at
first, registering the insult.

  She responded a little late, but in kind. “I am a lady. Pig.” She turned her back in a huff and stomped over to the kitchen table and chairs. She sat down with a flurry of skirts and put her elbows on the table so she could hold her head in her hands.

  This was never going to work if they couldn't get along. Vincent threw the bedcovers aside and walked across the room in his shorts to get his pants. He pulled them on, one leg at a time. Not quite sure of what to say, or if it was even possible to start over.

  He knew enough women over the years to know that women could hold grudges forever, and this one seemed to be prone to temper tantrums. Another reason things could never work out between them. She was too immature for him.

  "Look, I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot."

  She glared back up at him. “Wrong foot? We are way beyond that. How can I trust you if I am going to wake up with your hands all over me in the morning?” A crimson blush spread across her face and then down her neck.

  "You can trust me. I didn't touch you, did I? You still have your innocence,” he said in frustration.

  "You mean you didn't? And that we didn't ... Thank God!"

  "No. You can be sure that you would remember it in the morning if we did, sugar. You would still be feeling it,” he said in a cocky voice.

  "Well that will never happen,” she said arrogantly.

  "Never say never, sugar. You could learn a few things from me.” He smiled. He would enjoy teaching her all the lessons of being a lover. It would be a challenge to raise her passions to a frenzied level of desire. To hear her begging him to fuck her. He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs a little as he felt himself swell at the thought.

  Perhaps he should be seducing her. He looked at her as if for the first time. Watching as she backed up a step, acting suddenly nervous at the direction the conversation had taken. The predator in him surfaced too quickly.

  Vincent didn't want to upset her any further. So he tried another tactic. His voice was suddenly kind, his manner less threatening. “I am sorry about you losing your father, by the way."

  "Don't be. I really didn't know him. He left my mother when she was pregnant.” Her biting tone denoted a wound that had never healed.

  Christ. He wanted to give her a hug. His chest was tight as he watched her shift uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding his gaze. She was still hurting inside after the man who did this to her was long dead.

  "Buster wasn't a bad guy. He always talked about how when he made it big he was going to take care of you."

  "Well, he never did. All he did was chase a pipe dream. And you,” she motioned towards Vincent, “are just as bad. What kind of life is this? Do you want to be digging in a mine your entire life?"

  "It's not a bad life, sugar, and your father wasn't a bad man.” He padded across the floor to the kitchen area. Loading up the stove with some wood, he prepared the fire to make breakfast. He pulled a ceramic bowl off a shelf and a wooden spoon off a hook on the wall to make the biscuits.

  * * * *

  Observing him prepare the morning breakfast had to be the strangest thing she'd ever seen. Most men she knew wouldn't survive long without a woman to take care of his house and feed his stomach. Clearly, Vincent had been looking after himself for a long time. Long enough to learn how to fend for himself and how to cook.

  Barbara looked on in amazement as he used the spoon to drop blobs of dough onto the iron skillet before shoving the pan in the oven. The smell of sizzling bacon filled up the small cabin. Suddenly she realized how hungry she was. She had not eaten anything since yesterday morning. Saliva pooled in her mouth; her hunger made her feel a little friendlier towards him.

  "That smells wonderful."

  "Thanks,” he replied, keeping his attention on the cooking. It wasn't long before he slid a plate in front of her. Biscuits and gravy never looked so good, but she had never been this hungry.

  Greedily she dug her fork in and took a bite of her breakfast. The biscuits seemed to just melt in her mouth. “Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Waverly."

  Vincent smiled, watching her eat. “Call me Vincent. If we are going to be partners, we may as well become friends."

  "Partners? I think you, are mistaken. I am not looking for a partner. I just want to sell my share of the claim and get out of here."

  "Honey, you aren't selling your share unless you sell my share too."

  "Then I will buy you out so I can sell. How much do you want?"

  His gaze raked her over, suggesting his price would mean more than money. “You couldn't afford my price. You best just get used to the idea that we will be working together, and you will continue to work as long as you want to eat around here.” He cocked his head slightly, “You ever worked panning for gold before?"

  "No, but how hard can it be?"

  Vincent didn't answer her question, and the way he was looking at her ... It made her feel like a hungry wolf was watching her. It did something to the pit of her stomach that she wasn't sure that she liked.

  "I'll show you how to work the mine and afterwards we can go visit your father's grave if you like."

  "His grave?"

  "That is, if you want to. I figure you would like to say your goodbyes."

  "Sure. My goodbyes. Maybe we can schedule another time to go to the grave, but I don't want to go right now.” Barbara wasn't sure she wanted to see his grave. She still felt so angry with the man that called himself her father. Hated him for what he had done, and even seeing him dead wouldn't make her feel any better about him.

  "All right, if that is the way you feel about it, we will do it another time.” His voice was quiet and reserved, as if he didn't want to drop the subject but knew it would be a good time to let it go.

  She finished the last bit of food on her plate, breaking the awkward silence with a compliment. “I have heard that a man's stomach is the way to his heart, but I think perhaps it may be the same for a woman."

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  Chapter Five

  Barbara took one look at the mining equipment and gave a sigh of disgust. This wasn't the gold mine she expected. She thought she would be going inside a mine today. Instead he brought her to a spot on the river with a pile of shovels and some wooden contraption that was half in and half out of the water. A pile of miscellaneous tools, buckets, and a few pans sat on the banks of the river.

  "What is that?” She pointed to the odd machine, curling up her top lip. It looked as if it had been built from scrap bits of lumber and held together by chicken wire and a few nails for good measure. The contraption looked like it had been so used over the years that it could fall apart at any moment.

  "That is how we make our living, darling. That is called a sluice, and is much faster than panning for gold by hand."

  "Oh.” She was a little confused how it worked, but didn't want to look stupid by asking too many questions, either. “I thought you were taking me to a mine."

  "This is it, darling. You ready to get to work?"

  "I guess so.” She tried to sound confident, but she really wasn't so sure she was ready for this. It wasn't the first time she asked herself what she really knew about mining for gold.

  "Good.” He picked up a shovel and thrust it at her. She took it and watched as he showed her how the machine worked. He used the other shovel to lift dirt off the riverbank and drop it onto the machine. He did this several more times, before stopping to pick up a bucket and fill it with water. He dumped the water over the dirt and then used the handles to shake the debris. Barbara watched in amazement as the dirt sifted through. The rocks and larger debris were separated out first, then another screen got out smaller objects. The lightest material was the last to be sorted through. Vincent did this for a few minutes before finally examining what was left.

  He pointed to a small flake of gold and smiled. “See that?"

  "What? I don't see anything."

  He shook his head and pulled a small glass vial that he had held from a string around his neck, and put the flake inside the bottle. “It may not be much, but it is gold. We are close to something here. I can feel it. This came from upstream a bit and made its way down here. We just have to find the right spot and we will be richer than you can imagine."

  "Flakes of gold aren't going to make either of us rich."