Rose by Jill Marie Landis Page A

it.”
    “Flossie?”
    She stepped back, amazed at the vehemence in his tone.
    “Anyone but Flossie.”
    “But she is your friend ...”
    “She is. But she runs a whorehouse. And as far as I can tell, you aren’t any whore.”
    “I do not understand.”
    Kase turned away, angry with himself for the sudden outburst. She had done little to deserve it, except irritate him. He refused to let his temper take over all reason. He tried cold detachment instead. “Of course you don’t.”
    Silence lengthened between them. Finally she spoke again. “What is it?”
    “I’m upset, that’s what.”
    “No, I mean ‘whore.’ What is it?”
    He groaned. He realized it was the kind of question his mother was continually asking Caleb. Kase felt his face flush with color as he met her unfaltering gaze. What in the hell was she doing to him? He was as skittish as a wild colt caught in a box canyon.
    “A whore...” Kase cleared his throat and started over. “A whore is a woman who... who... gets paid for sharing her ... pleasures.”
    “Ahh.” She nodded, her eyes wide and serious. “ Prostituta.” With three brothers in the house, she had heard that word before. “Signora Flossie, too?” Her tone was incredulous.
    Kase pulled at the collar of his shirt and wondered exactly when it had become too tight. “No.” He shook his head. “Not anymore. She just takes care of the girls who work for her. And”—he narrowed his eyes as he stared down at her—” you are not going to join them.”
    Rosa stuck out her chin. “ If I want to, I will. But I do not want to, so I will not. But not because you say so,” she added hastily.
    “Of course not,” Kase mumbled under his breath.
    “I want Giovanni’s store.”
    “What store? That empty building with a few rotten potatoes? How long do you think you can live on nothing? Besides, the place wasn’t even his; he rented it.” Those eyes, he thought, are going to do me in. Kase turned away from her and, with as much nonchalance as he could muster, began sorting through the mail and Wanted posters on the table.
    “Whose is?”
    “Whose is what?” He purposely baited her by pretending not to understand. It wasn’t safe to turn around yet, for there was something about the flashing anger behind the topaz eyes that intrigued him. They reminded him of an electrical storm over the prairie. He wanted to watch the lightning flare a while longer, but refused to allow himself the pleasure.
    “Whose is the building? Who owns it?” she shouted. Her limited patience was gone.
    “Paddie.”
    Rosa folded her arms beneath her breasts, unwilling to be put off. Trying to calm herself, she asked in a more moderate tone, “Where is this Paddie?”
    “Across the street. He owns the saloon, too.”
    “Ah. Taverna. ”
    She scooped up the valise and started toward the door. Without a sound and with uncannily graceful speed, Kase got there before her and leaned against it, arms crossed, lips set in a firm line.
    “Mi scusi.” Her request was polite but determined.
    Kase shook his head in disbelief. The fool wasn’t kidding. She intended to stay in Busted Heel. He knew a sudden urge to lift, her up in his arms the way he had yesterday, carry her back to the depot, and shove her onto the train. The trouble was, yesterday she was unconscious. Today he was afraid to try it.
    A shrill whistle sounded in the distance. He did not have to look at his watch to know that it was too late for him to take any action at all. Rose Audi smiled up all too smugly at him when he sighed in resignation.
    He opened the door and watched her sweep past, head high, full skirt trailing across the dusty sidewalk, the wide, floppy hat giving her the appearance of a walking mushroom.
    “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he called out as the mushroom headed across the street toward the saloon.
    Rosa did not need to turn around to see Kase Storm lounging against the door frame with his arms casually folded across