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| Reviews | Excerpt | Map of Whirlwind
Handsome rancher and hotel owner Russ Baldwin has learned from harsh experience to look twice at people. He'll never let a woman cheat him again. So when his business partner, Miss Lydia Kent, moves into town, Russ goes on alert .... Russ's dark, watchful eyes rattle Lydia. She must keep her noble, yet underground, activities -- and her emotions -- tightly under wraps. But it doesn't take long before Russ realizes his curvy, sweet-talkin' co-owner has hidden depths ... and he's determined to uncover them! "5 stars! The plot for Whirlwind Secrets is fantastic and
kept you reading until the very end. Lydia's noble undertaking addressed
an issue that is still with us today. Realistic with wonderful characters,
kudos deservedly go to Debra Cowan for penning a memorable tale ..."
-- D. Guyette, CataRomance "4 spurs! In this very romantic novel, Debra Cowan puts passion on
every page. Sparks fly in this entertaining western ..."
-- Love Western Romances "Cowan succeeds at tackling big themes in a tender way."
-- RT Book Reviews West
Texas, 1885 Russ Baldwin knew that was
how Lydia Kent, the new partner he had yet to meet, had gotten the money to
invest in his hotel. Well, half his. What kind of woman took a
man to court for breach of promise because he’d ended their engagement? Russ
wondered as he dragged his tired carcass up the wooden steps from the hotel’s
boiler room. He walked past the kitchen, the grand staircase and across the
lobby to the big steel grate in the floor. The Fontaine was almost ready for
business. Too bad he would be selling
his interest in it shortly. His gaze took in the polished oak floor that
matched the large registration desk positioned to greet people when they walked
through the double doors. Pewter wall sconces above the tufted sofas on either
side of the desk would burn continuously once Russ turned on the gas lighting.
The high ceilings and the staircase opposite the registration desk were
accentuated with oak molding as was his office in the corner behind him.
Today was the first time
he’d lit up the boiler for the hotel’s steam heat and it hadn’t worked. After
an hour downstairs, Russ thought he’d finally figured out the problem - a dirt
clod in one of the pipes. The massive front doors
were open and he watched the sun sink into the prairie’s horizon. It hovered
for a moment in a red-gold arc over the steeple of the church-cum-schoolhouse
that claimed the opposite end of Main Street. The sounds of clopping hooves,
rattling wagon wheels, and voices drifted in as the people of Whirlwind closed
up shop and went home. Cooling October air swirled into the lobby, stirring up
puffs of dust. The scent of charring wood, the dirty bite of coal clung to Russ
as he knelt and stretched out a hand over the grate. Hot moist air hit his palm
and he chuckled. The dang thing worked! It actually worked! Just like the
steam heat down at The Menger Hotel in San Antonio, where he had first seen the
system. He knew business would have
to build slowly and though this little town west of Abilene was growing quickly,
The Fontaine needed to cater mostly to customers of modest means. But there
were a few rooms for big spenders. He and Miz Lydia Kent had agreed via
telegram, as they had with everything else, that they would experiment with a
few of the same amenities featured at The Menger. So, a newfangled heating
system had been installed and gas lighting put in the lobby. There was also
indoor plumbing with four guest rooms boasting adjoining baths. Those luxuries would be the
draw of The Fontaine. Russ wanted a mechanical elevator, too, but there was no
money for that right now. He’d been fascinated with the one he’d seen in San
Antonio, riding it up and down the floors so many times the manager had asked
him to stop. He might be able to talk Miz Kent into it later, even though he
would no longer be part owner. He took a rag out of the
back pocket of his denims and wiped his grimy hands. Still kneeling over the
grate, he listened to the bubbling hiss of the heat. The light tap of shoes had
him glancing over his shoulder. At the sight of luscious curves and porcelain
skin, he got to his feet. She was taller than most of
the women in town, her head almost reaching his shoulder. Dressed in a black
tweed traveling suit with a black flat-crowned hat perched atop dark upswept
hair, she had Russ’s full attention. She wasn’t from around
here. Russ knew every woman within a three-county range and this little
lovely wasn’t from Taylor, Callahan or Nolan County. He had a hard time deciding
if he favored her lush breasts or gently flared hips. Or — hell — her face.
Raven-black eyes set off skin that gleamed like pearls. From the delicate
winged eyebrows to the pert nose and the plump bowed lips, her features were
perfectly proportioned. Her heart-shaped face was flawless, her cheekbones high
but not sharp, her chin round. Her carefully arranged hair bared an elegant
neck. Even her ears were pretty. "Evenin’, ma’am." She smiled, revealing a
deep dimple beside her mouth. Russ felt like someone yanked his world to a stop
and started it spinning in the other direction. Her gaze skipped eagerly
around the lobby. Before he could tell her
they weren’t open for business yet, she stepped closer in a swirl of lavender
scent and pressed a coin into his hand. "My trunks are outside.
Could you bring them in, please?" Her voice was low and husky, like whiskey
laced with honey. "Thank you." "Sorry, ma’am." If he
hadn’t already known she was a stranger to these parts, that smoky drawl
would’ve told him. Deep South. Georgia? Alabama? He glanced down at the
fifty-cent piece in his hand. "We’re not open." "Oh, I know. I’m the
owner." So, this was Lydia Kent. A
man could fall right into those black-velvet eyes. Dismissing the initial pull
he’d felt toward her, he reached up to stroke his mustache before remembering
he’d recently shaved it off. "The owner, huh?" "Yes." "So am I." Surprise flashed across her
refined features. "You’re Mr. Baldwin?" "Russ, please." Returning
her money, he forced himself to stop looking at her mouth. She shifted, her cheeks
coloring as she held out her gloved hand. "Lydia Kent," she said briskly. He shook her hand, stunned
when the brief touch traveled through him like the snap of a whip. Judging by
the way her eyes went wide, he wasn’t the only one affected. Moving slightly away, she
slipped free of his hold. "Um, how’s your father?" "His leg’s on the mend,”
Russ said, feeling a now-familiar twist of guilt over the part he’d played in
the accident. "And yours?" "Very well, thank you."
"I didn’t expect you for
another week." She seemed to stiffen. "Is
that a problem?" "No, ma’am. You just
surprised me is all." Wearing grime and coal dust and sweat wasn’t the way he
liked to greet a woman, even if she was his business partner. His gaze trailed
over full breasts and a tiny waist. Her voice turned cool,
polite. "Everything I needed done in Mississippi was finished early so I
decided to come on out." She didn’t meet his eyes
and Russ suddenly felt a low-thrumming tension in her. Maybe she was nervous
due to being in an unfamiliar place. Or maybe she was wound up like this all
the time. Her gaze dropped to the
grate at his feet. "Is that the steam heat?" He nodded. Tugging off a
black kid glove, she moved past him and knelt, stretching out her hand as he
had. A smile spread across her beautiful face. "It works!" "I had to fiddle with it a
bit." "And the gas lights?" She
rose, giving her skirts a shake. Red dust floated to the floor. "They’re working, too.
Just haven’t turned them on yet for tonight." He started for the sconce on the
wall behind her. "But I can." "That’s all right. I’d
like to bring in my trunks first." "Oh, you can’t stay here."
Which suited Russ just fine. He’d felt this kind of mind-addling attraction
before and that had been a disaster. He had no intention of giving into it
again. "The hotel isn’t finished." "Well, foot."
Disappointment settled over her features. And fatigue, Russ realized by the
shadows under her eyes. Glancing around the large
room, she tugged on her right ear lobe. "How long do you think it’ll be before
I can move in?" "At least a week." "A week! I guess I am
early," she murmured. "The window glass for the
third floor hasn’t come in yet. Neither has the furniture for your rooms." She sighed, turning
slightly to look out the open doorway flooded with fiery gold light. "There’s another hotel here
in town," Russ said. "I can take you there then come back for your trunks and
show you around the place." Despite the eagerness on
her face, she hesitated. She checked the small gold watch pinned to her bodice
over her heart. "I think tomorrow might be a better time to look around. I’m
awfully tired." "Is morning all right or
would you rather meet later?" She looked startled. "Oh.
You don’t need to be here." "I thought it would be good
for us to go through the place together, make sure we’re both pleased with
things, see what else needs to be done." "All right." She didn’t protest, didn’t
even blink, but Russ sensed she didn’t want him there when she toured the
hotel. Hmm, why not? He gestured for her to precede him out the door. "I wish you’d sent word you
were coming early. I planned to fetch you from Abilene. You wouldn’t have had
to worry about your luggage or getting to Whirlwind." "I didn’t mind." Because it went against his
nature to let a woman fend for herself on travel arrangements and such, his
words came out sharper than he intended. "I do." Her gaze snapped to his,
fire sparking in those black eyes. "What?" "It’s not a good idea for a
woman to go about alone in these parts." "Why ever not? Since our
fathers are in frequent contact, Mr. Baldwin, I think I would’ve been warned if
the area was unsafe. Besides," she huffed. "I didn’t want to impose."
Russ managed to keep from
raising an eyebrow. His first impressions about people – especially women –
were usually dead-on and Miz Kent seemed like an imposin’ kind of woman to him.
Still, he didn’t need to get off on the wrong foot with her. Prickly little
thing. He gentled his voice. "The
outlaw problem we’ve had the last couple of years is pretty much taken care of,
but you never know who might come upon you with less than honorable intentions.
It’s best not to travel alone." "I’m not alone. My maid,
Naomi, is with me." Lydia gestured toward the open hotel doors then patted the
skirt of her tweed traveling suit. "And I have my derringer." "I guess you know how to
use that?" "Wouldn’t do much good to
carry it otherwise, would it?" she asked sweetly. "Would you be so kind as to
point me toward the other hotel?" "The Whirlwind. It’s just
down there." He indicated the two-story frame building at the opposite end of
Main Street, diagonal to The Fontaine. "I’ll take you over then fetch your
luggage while you’re getting settled." "Thank you." Her voice was
calm and pleasant; still Russ felt a jitteriness in her. Felt a little in himself,
too. "Did you have a lot of business to wrap up in Mississippi?" "A fair amount." There was nothing wrong
with her showing up early, but Russ had never known a woman who did. He
couldn’t duck the sense that there was a story there. And there it would
probably stay. Men always complained that women were unable to keep secrets,
but hard experience had taught him some women could hide anything and lie
straight to your face while doing it. Stuffing the rag into the
back pocket of his denims, he followed Lydia outside and slowed at the sight of
a woman standing next to a loaded buckboard. Slight with creamy chocolate skin,
she was every bit as beautiful as Lydia. Her black hair was swept up tightly,
but instead of looking severe, the hairstyle only drew attention to her luminous
brown eyes and stunning bone structure. Lydia Kent was beautiful.
This woman was breathtaking, regal. Despite the fact that her refined features
were pinched with uncertainty until Lydia hurried to her. Russ stopped in front of
the pair. "Ma’am." Though she didn’t meet his
eyes, she said quietly, "Hello." They sure knew how to grow
‘em in Mississippi. He smiled, trying to relieve her obvious unease. "I’m Russ
Baldwin. You can call me Russ." Lydia shifted closer to
her. "This is Naomi Jones." "My pleasure, Miz Jones."
He shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you." Her
shy smile came and went quickly. His gaze took in the trunks
piled precariously high in the back of the wagon. "Let me escort you ladies to
The Whirlwind." Russ offered an arm to each
woman, and after Lydia nodded reassuringly, Naomi accepted it. He didn’t miss
her slight wince at the movement or her stiff posture. Most likely sore due to
bouncing in the wagon from Abilene to here. A look passed between the
two women. A look Russ judged as reassuring and desperate at the same time. It
made him wonder again why his business partner had arrived so early and without
word. It could have been because
of some business with that lawsuit of hers. Whatever it was, Russ decided he
didn’t want to know. After working night and day for the last month on the
hotel, he deserved a reward and had intended to make a trip to Abilene for a
little mattress thrashin’ with Willow or Sally.
From the book: WHIRLWIND SECRETS |
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