Naughty Marietta

Her heart in her throat, Marietta nervously approached the tall man who still stood there leaning against the barber pole. Cole waited until she was a few steps from him. Then he pushed away from the pole, turned his back on her and stepped down off the sidewalk. He unhurriedly crossed the street.

Marietta couldn’t believe her eyes. It was all she could do to keep from calling out to him and ordering him to come back. She was filled with anger and despair as she watched him casually walk away from her. She continued to stare, longing to know who he was and where he was going and wondering if she would ever see him again.

She blinked when he turned into the silver-floored entrance of the Teller House Hotel and disappeared. She was tempted to follow him, took a tentative step forward, and caught herself. She couldn’t go running after a stranger. Besides, even if she could, the Burnett brothers would tell Maltese.

Marietta sighed, her slender shoulders slumping.

The excitement of her afternoon adventure was gone. She had no particular interest in shopping or having a late lunch. She just wanted to go home. Parasol raised, she walked dejectedly back to the opera house, ignoring the passersby who smiled and called to her.

Back in her private quarters, Marietta undressed, drew on a satin robe and paced restlessly. She was agitated. Fidgety. Unable to relax. She had seen an incredibly attractive man who’d set her pulses to pounding and she wouldn’t rest until she saw him again.

Marietta abruptly stopped pacing, snapped her fingers and said aloud, “I will see him again. I will go to the Teller House tomorrow and have lunch.”

Marietta did just that.

But to her disappointment, there was no sign of the dark-haired stranger. She hurried through her meal and left the hotel. She walked up the street toward the barbershop, hoping to find him leaning against the colored barber pole.

But he was not there.

From the front window of his fourth-floor suite in the Teller House, Cole watched Marietta leave the hotel, walk up the street. Her head was bare and her glorious red-gold hair, dressed elegantly atop her head, blazed in the sunlight.

He watched as she approached the barbershop. And he smiled when she stopped, reached out and touched the barber pole.

She was looking for him.

Soon he would let her find him.

Seven

Cole knew it wasn’t going to be easy to catch the lovely Marietta alone. When she was with Maltese, the scar-faced Lightnin’ hovered nearby. If Marietta went out alone, she was closely shadowed by those two big bruisers, the Burnett brothers. Maltese saw to it that his ladylove was well guarded at all times.

Still, Cole was confident he could find a way around the bodyguards. Impatiently he bided his time, waited and watched. And he smiled when, three days in a row, he saw Marietta venture out. From his fourth-floor Teller House suite he watched her stroll up Eureka Street, pausing before shop windows.

But her interest was not really in the merchandise displayed. She didn’t gaze longingly into the plate-glass windows of the stores. Instead, she covertly glanced around, as if looking for someone.

She was looking for him.

Each day Cole waited until Marietta returned to her private quarters. Then he went out. He explored every inch of the little mountain hamlet, walking up one street and down another. He spoke to no one, attracted as little attention as possible. He hunted for the ideal place for a private rendezvous with Marietta. He found it on his third day out. The Far Canyon Café. A cozy little out-of-the-way restaurant nestled in the sheltering slopes near the top of the hill. The food was good, the wine cellar exceptional, and the high-backed banquettes afforded total privacy.

It was, Cole decided, time to end the little game of cat and mouse. The very next afternoon he dressed in a freshly laundered blue cotton shirt and a pair of dark twill trousers. Cleanly shaven, his hair neatly brushed, he left the Teller House resolved to carry out his mission. His mission was Marietta. Cole stepped out into the scorching June sunshine and looked up the street.

And there she was.

Marietta and her shadows were only a couple of blocks ahead. Cole proceeded cautiously, ducking into doorways, mingling with the milling crowds. All the while advancing, determined to meet Marietta, to talk with her.

He knew his opportunity had come when he saw Marietta enter a little shop on the corner at the far end of the block. Cole picked up his pace, hurried toward the store where the sign above read Lilly’s Ladies Apparel.

The Burnett brothers stood on the sidewalk a few feet from the shop’s front door. But neither noticed when Cole went inside. Their attention was momentarily diverted. An altercation had broken out across the street in front of the Golden Nugget Saloon. A crowd quickly gathered and bets were being placed on the bloodied pugilists. Con and Jim Burnett whistled and applauded, liking nothing better than watching a good fistfight.

Inside Lilly’s small shop, Marietta was alone. There were no other customers. And the shop’s owner, the diminutive Lilly, was in the back storeroom. She’d gone there after telling Marietta about the new shipment of lacy underwear that had just arrived that morning.

“Stay right here, Marietta,” Lilly had said. “I’ll go unpack some of the prettiest things for you to choose from. Shall I?”

“Definitely,” Marietta had replied. “You know how I love the feel of silk or satin against my skin.”

Alone now, Marietta was lifting a delicate white shawl from a display table, when she felt a presence behind her. A chill skipped up and down her spine. She turned, looked up and saw Cole. The shawl slipped from her hand and her heartbeat quickened.

For one long instant they inventoried each other and there was a definite challenge in their glances. Snared by his arresting blue eyes, Marietta automatically smiled and almost imperceptibly nodded to this darkly handsome man for whom she’d been secretly looking for the past four days.

Cole smiled back and asked, “Did you nod to me?”

“Did I?”

“I’m certain that you did.”

“Well, perhaps,” she admitted with a radiant smile.

Cole cautiously approached her. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said in a low, pleasing baritone. “I’m Cole Heflin, one of your legion of admirers, Miss Marietta.”

He offered his hand. Marietta accepted it and felt a quick jolt of excitement race through her as his tanned fingers closed warmly around hers. She knew she should withdraw her hand. She didn’t. She allowed him to continue holding it securely in his own and derived a strange thrill from the innocent act. She was certain this mere touching of hands had affected him too, because a muscle in his firm jaw moved as if he was clenching his teeth. Neither spoke.

They just stood there holding hands, looking at each other. It was a moment of electric silence. But although Marietta delighted in the firm pressure of his hand, she finally made an effort to withdraw her own. Cole tightened his grip. She was secretly glad.

“Then you have been to the opera?” she said, her emerald eyes aglow.

“Every performance since opening night,” he lied.

“Ah, so you enjoy my singing, Mr. Heflin?”

“Words cannot describe,” Cole said with an engaging smile. He gave her hand one last gentle squeeze, released it and asked, “I know it’s awfully forward of me, but would you consider having lunch with me, Marietta?”

She was tempted. He was so compelling, so masculine, so attractive. The good-looking deeply tanned face, the jet-black hair that curled away from his temples. Those hooded eyes, as blue as the Colorado skies. That provocative smile, a smile that lifted one corner of his full lips a little higher than the other. And his hands, such marvelous hands, so strong and warm. Lean, beautiful hands with long tapered fingers. She was tremendously attracted and longed to know him better.

Still, she hesitated. Maltese was down in Denver again today, but his two hired minions, the Burnett brothers, were just outside Lilly’s. They watched every move she made. Lunch with this handsome stranger was out of the question.

“I’m very flattered, but I—”

Cole interrupted, “Leave now and I’ll stay behind. Go to the Far Canyon Café and I’ll meet you there.” Marietta’s brilliant green eyes flickered and Cole knew she was weakening. He continued, “I’ll go around through the alley behind the buildings. When I reach the café, I’ll use the back door, come through the kitchen. It’s almost two o’clock. The café will be deserted at this hour. No one will see us together.”

Marietta took only a second to think it over before she whispered, “I’ll be in the back banquette, away from the street.”

Cole grinned boyishly. “I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes,” she repeated, and taking a step closer, glanced nervously out the front windows and told him, “Don’t turn and look when I leave.”

Cole shook his head and said, “The next time I look at you will be across the table at the Far Canyon Café.”

True to his word, Cole kept his back to the street as Marietta quickly exited the apparel shop. She had just walked out the door, when Lilly, carrying several frothy undergarments over her arm, came out of the storeroom, saying, “Marietta, there’s an ice-blue satin nightgown that you…you—” She stopped, frowned, looked about and said to Cole, “Where is the beautiful lady, the red-haired opera singer?”