Free To Love a Scoundrel by Sharon Ihle

hell alone." She began to back away, glaring at him, daring him to follow her. When she was sure he understood how serious she was, Jewel turned around and stalked off toward town.
    "That idiot actually shot me. Me, " she muttered to herself. "I can't believe it, I can't believe any of this. Wait till Allan finds out I had Jesse James in my grasp, and I let him get away."
    She kicked at pebbles as she walked, biting her lip with each new wave of pain in her injured arm, but managed to keep up her tirade. "It's most definitely Brent Connors' fault. All his fault, and if it's the last thing I do, I'll get even with that devilish dandy. More than even."

 
     
     
    Chapter 5

     
    Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
    June 7, 1876
     
    Harry Benton stepped out of the hydraulic elevator and onto the thick wool carpeting of the fourth floor of the Fairmount Hotel. As he reached the door to his suite, he noticed a young couple bickering in the hallway next to his room. Taking his time fitting his key to the lock, Harry eavesdropped as the auburn-haired beauty gave her companion the boot.
    "...so let's leave things the way they are, Richard. Thanks for a wonderful time—the exhibition and all the parties were lots of fun."
    "But, Jewel," Richard protested, "last night was just one of those things. I had a little too much to drink, I guess. I'll do better tonight if you'll just give me a chance."
    Jewel stared at him, considering his proposal, wondering what her real objections to the handsome young Pinkerton agent were. Was it the wispy blond hair? The fact Richard did not have dark wavy locks? Or was his skin too smooth and baby-like, lacking so much as a stubble where a thick, lush mustache should have been?
    Richard smiled just then, drawing her attention to his mouth. His lips could have been painted lines; they were incapable of curving into the crooked smile that made Brent Connors look as if he had a feather in his drawers.
    Somehow, she realized with a sudden flash of insight, that feather had moved over to her own undergarments. Because of it, of him, she'd spent the last few weeks of her forced vacation trying to relieve that itch and wipe the memory of Brent Connors from her mind. Nothing had worked. Not Richard and not the marvelous excitement of the exhibition, with all its newfangled machines. Damn that miserable gambler, she thought. How had Brent managed to worm his way into her mind and her dreams so easily?
    "May I come in, Jewel?" Richard asked. "I promised Mr. Pinkerton I'd keep an eye on you while you were here, and besides, I uh... I think I'm falling in love with you."
    She snapped her head up and took another long look into the pale blue of his eyes, noted the puppy dog droop to his expression. Love? How had he gotten love out of a few shared meals and laughs? That notion surely couldn't stem from his awkward and drunken attempts at lovemaking last night, could it?
    Love. The word alone turned her stomach and darkened her thoughts. Love, if there really was such a thing, was for idiots and the feebleminded, people who were unable or unwilling to manage on their own. Love was something that could never happen to a strong person like Jewel Flannery.
    Trying to hide her irritation, she raised her voice an octave and said, "I'm sorry to hear you feel that way, Richard. I hope I didn't give you the impression that I, that we could be more than..."
    Jewel hesitated, disturbed as much by the tinny sound of her voice as by his undisguised adoration. Then she suddenly realized eyes other than Richard's were gazing at her. She turned and spotted a distinguished-looking gentleman standing one door away. He looked totally intrigued by the situation between her and Richard—and completely amused.
    She abruptly turned back to the Pinkerton agent and brusquely said, "As I tried to tell you, Richard, I'm sorry you feel that way, but I must say good night. Thanks again for all the fun, but I'm afraid you and I have come to the end of