Four-Karat Fiancee

Now his gaze was trained on Amanda, and she by no means liked what she saw in it. When it raked her from head to toe, even the fact that most of her body was covered by the classic wide folds of her beige raincoat brought little comfort.

“Well, hi, sugar pie,” Feldon drawled, his speech slurred.

Sugar pie? Amanda’s teeth clenched in response. It didn’t take a genius, she thought, to see that she was headed for trouble. Or, rather, trouble was headed for her.

“Cat got your tongue?” Feldon came to a wavering halt right in front of her. “Have to say I envy it if it does.” His mouth curved in a leer.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my way,” Amanda replied with brisk directness. Living in a big city had taught her the value of maintaining a firm front in an environment where crime was an unfortunate fact of life. One of the benefits of returning to Jester was that she never so much as felt uneasy walking alone on an empty street—never until now.

“Too bad I’m of no mind to step aside.” Feldon leaned in. Even in the dimness of a twilight sky, his face looked nearly as flushed as the red checks on his flannel jacket. “I might be persuaded, though, if you gave me a sample of what I’m missing.”

You should live so long, Amanda reflected with disgust. She took a better grip on the book she held, hitched her sleek shoulder bag higher, and prepared to move on. “If you don’t let me pass, I’m turning around and heading to the sheriff’s office.”

Feldon’s hand snaked out to grab her arm. “I don’t think so,” he muttered, his expression suddenly as dark as his shaggy black hair.

Amanda knew it was too late to run. But she could shout for help, she decided even as another large hand came up to cup her chin hard enough to keep her lips clamped shut.

“Maybe I’ll just take, since you don’t feel like giving,” Feldon said, leaning closer, then closer still. Amanda did her best to struggle, but he was almost twice her size. Her pulse began to pound as all-out panic threatened.

And then he was yanked right away from her by someone who stared daggers at Guy Feldon from under the wide brim of a tan Stetson before sending the burly man lurching into the street with a well-placed fist to the jaw.

For once, Amanda was actually glad to see Dev Devlin.

A few people poked their heads outside at that point, as if just aware that something was up on Main Street. Amanda took note of it with a quick glance around her even as most of her attention remained fixed on the two men steps away.

“Come on, Feldon,” Dev said in a near growl, his fists still clenched. “Let’s see you take on someone more your size.”

“Damned if I won’t,” the other man shot back.

Amanda watched what happened next, thinking that it was like a scene straight out of an action movie. Fists flew with abandon and several grunts were exchanged when they found their target, but it wasn’t long before a clear victor emerged as Dev sent his opponent flying with a particularly solid punch.

“More?” he asked after taking a few rapid strides forward to stand over the burly man sprawled in the street.

Feldon looked up. “I’m done.”

“Well then, so are we,” Dev said, “unless the lady wants you dragged over to the sheriff’s place so she can press charges.”

Mindful that several people had gathered for a closer look at the fight, Amanda shook her head. She still wanted nothing more than to go home.

Dev brushed his palms on his snug-fitting Levi’s and reached up to tap his hat down lower on his forehead. “Looks like you’re getting off easy,” he told his opponent as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket. “I suggest you haul yourself up—and think about leaving town while you’re at it, because I’ve just decided that this place isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

Feldon mumbled what might have been a curse, then got to his feet and beat a swift retreat.

After watching him disappear around a corner, Dev looked at Amanda. “Are you all right?”

Vaguely aware of other voices echoing that question, she dipped her head in a nod and kept her gaze on the man walking toward her. The truth was that after everything that had happened that day and all she had on her mind, she found herself close to tears. Nevertheless, her pride had her determined not to shed any before an audience.

“Thank you,” she said, gazing into the deep blue eyes of the Heartbreaker Saloon’s owner. For coming to my rescue, she could have added, and didn’t. It was startling to realize that the person she’d been at odds with for so long had done exactly that.

He studied her, taking in what she hoped was at least a somewhat calm expression. She knew he wasn’t fooled by the way he frowned. “If you’re on your way home, I’ll walk you there.”

“That’s not necessary,” she assured him.

“Whether it is or not, I’m doing it,” he countered.

Too tired to mount a real protest, Amanda surrendered with another nod. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her. Who would have ever thought she’d give in to this man on anything? she asked herself. And did this mark a change in their relationship?

Something told her that just might be the case as she issued an absent goodbye to the people gathered around and fell into step beside him.

Dev’s blood gradually cooled as he concentrated on shortening his stride to match his companion’s. Their footsteps tapped out a slow rhythm as they walked down a darkening street. There was no point in wondering whether he should have kicked Feldon’s butt for good measure, he told himself. Hopefully, the jerk would take the advice he’d been given and leave town. If not, Dev vowed to personally see to it.

He might be a successful businessman—he might be a millionaire—but he could still get a dirty job done if necessary. This evening’s brawl had proved that. He hadn’t lost the knack of putting his fists to good use. Except these days he knew when to back off. Seeing Amanda Bradley safely home had been more important than continuing to pound on the man who’d been forcing himself on her.

A man who’d had more to drink than he should have at the Heartbreaker, Dev’s conscience reminded him.

He frowned in response, thinking that if someone was known to be driving, he and the two bartenders working for him didn’t hesitate to shut them off or take car keys away. But how the hell was anyone supposed to know that a man—a customer—would practically assault a woman steps from the saloon’s doorstep?

Sure, the Heartbreaker’s male regulars could get rowdy at times. But assault a female? No way. Most of them would have liked nothing better than to pound on Feldon themselves, given the chance. So instead of letting guilt nag at him over what had happened, Dev figured everyone would be better off if he just tried to do his damnedest to make sure it never happened again.

“Nice night for a stroll down Mega Bucks Boulevard,” he said in a bid to make conversation.

Amanda glanced up at him and spoke for the first time since they’d started their walk. “Do you find our mayor’s habit of renaming streets since the lottery win to be as bizarre as I do?”

The question, while straightforward enough, was issued in a softer tone than Dev was accustomed to hearing from the Ex-Libris’s owner—who, he remembered, had informed him somewhat haughtily during one of their go-rounds that the store’s name came from a Latin phrase that loosely translated meant “from the books.” And it was just as well she had told him, because he knew he’d have never figured that one out.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Can’t see how renaming a few streets hurts anything.”

Jester’s mayor, Bobby Larson, had also been touting the idea of building a hotel on land now dedicated to the community park, and Dev was less sure how he felt about that plan. The one thing he was dead certain of was a definite desire to avoid town politics. He had plenty of other things to occupy him.

Such as his house, he thought as they crossed Maple Street, where the new Devlin residence would soon reach the move-in stage. He’d been headed there for the daily check he made on it when he’d found himself trading blows with Guy Feldon instead.

“Were you hurt in that fight?” Amanda asked, as though she’d caught the direction his thoughts had taken.

“No.” He had no intention of whining about a few aches and pains. “What have you got there?” he asked, changing the subject as he glanced down at the book she held tightly to her. All he could make out were the edges of a dusky rose cover.

“Oh.” She hesitated a moment. “It’s, ah, a novel, just something I thought I’d try.”

“Something different than you usually read?”

Again she paused. “Well, let’s just say it’s a change from what I’ve been reading lately.”

Her reply was just vague enough to have him wishing he could get a better look at that book. Maybe it would tell him more about the woman he’d come to think of as a thorn in his side. He still believed the best thing he could do was buy her part of the building they shared. He could even knock down the wall separating their properties, make a few changes to spruce up the bar area and expand his business—which was thriving, if he did say so himself.

Her business was another story, he more than suspected. If it weren’t for the pastries usually on hand in a sitting area at the back of the bookstore, along with tea served in fancy cups to wash down a helping of the local news of the day, how many customers would regularly visit the place? Probably not enough to turn a healthy profit. If only he could convince her to sell out to him.

They arrived at Amanda’s one-story white frame house in a matter of minutes. Dev took note of the fact that although it was a long way from new, it appeared well cared for. It was a far cry from the rundown house he’d grown up in on the outskirts of town, that was for sure. This place looked…homey, he guessed was the word, with its front yard enclosed by a short picket fence and what seemed to be, judging by what he could make out in the light coming from a nearby streetlamp, a circle of dried lavender decorating the plain wood door.

“I’ll wait until you get in before I take off,” he told her when they reached the covered front porch.