She held the pistol in both hands, feeling its weight, its balance, then stretched out her arms and sighted through the window at the dotted i on the sign atop the building across the street. Kinsey knew about guns. Her mother, who’d lived through the ravage of the War Between the States, thought every woman should know how to shoot and had taught Kinsey well.

She remembered Jared’s awkward reaction in the kitchen of the boardinghouse yesterday when she’d mentioned that he hadn’t opened fire when the shooting began at the saloon. Something to keep in mind, she decided, as she slipped the Colt into the holster once more.

She turned to the satchel and valise on the floor and placed them on the writing desk. The valise held folded whites, and she had to force herself to dig past them to the bottom of the case, her cheeks warming as she fondled Jared’s long johns, socks and handkerchiefs. But she found what she expected to find. Stacks of money. Her stomach quivered at the sight, then hardened into a knot.

She knew why he’d brought so much cash with him, what he intended to do with it. Buying her off, obviously, had entered his mind before he left NewYork. It was a side of the man that didn’t really surprise her. Yet it still didn’t give her the information she’d come here to discover.

When she opened the satchel, her heart fell. Technical journals. Pencils. The odd drawing tools she’d seen Clark work with. There was a stack of papers filled to the very margins with pencil sketches. Excellent drawings of mountains, waterfalls, flowers, buildings, portraits of old women, young children. They chronicled Jared’s trip westward. She imagined him seated on the train, looking out the window capturing the passing scenery or sketching unsuspecting passengers. She’d seen in Clark the same compulsion to stay busy. None of the Masons, it seemed, could bear to sit still, their hands idle.

Kinsey put the drawings aside and pulled a large brown envelope from the satchel. A new wave of disappointment swept over her as she pulled out a stack of documents and skimmed them.

A letter from the midwife who’d delivered Sam, confirming his birth date and the names of his mother and father. A report from a Pinkerton detective tracing Kinsey’s flight from Lynchburg, Virginia to Crystal Springs, Colorado, and details on all stops in between. The last item in the packet dashed all hope for Kinsey. An unfinished letter, written in Clark’s own hand, advising the family of the impending arrival of his first child.

The man who’d come to her house yesterday claiming a right to Sam was, in fact, Jared Mason. Kinsey’s shoulders slumped at the realization.

Lying awake in bed last night it had occurred to her that she didn’t know whether the man who claimed to be Jared was, in fact, Clark’s brother, even though she’d seen the family resemblance with her own eyes. The man could have been a fraud, a distant family member, wanting to kidnap the boy and sell him back to the Mason family.

Or maybe she was just grasping at straws.

But there was no doubting Jared’s identity now. Kinsey shoved the documents back into the envelope and—

A key scraped in the lock. Kinsey whirled around, saw the doorknob shake.

There were only two keys to every room in the hotel. She had one of them in her skirt pocket. The other one belonged to—

Kinsey slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as the door opened.

Chapter Five

Kinsey dropped to her hands and knees behind the dressing screen just as the door swung open. She pressed her lips together to keep from betraying her hiding place with a squeal of terror.

Footsteps thudded into the room, then a mumbled curse.

Jared’s voice. No doubt about it.

Kinsey crouched lower, trying to make herself as small as possible. The door closed. She was trapped.

Trapped inside a hotel room. Good gracious, what had she been thinking? Kinsey silently berated herself for her decision to come here. But he’d been on his way to breakfast—she’d seen him with her own eyes. Why would he come back?

Did he suspect her of doing exactly what she was doing? Had he planned this, set a trap for her, somehow expecting to find her here?

Maybe he hadn’t slept well. The thought flew through Kinsey’s mind like a welcomed cool breeze. Maybe he simply wanted to go back to bed—

What if he went back to bed? What if he took off his clothes?

Heat coursed through Kinsey like ripples through a pond.

What if he took off his clothes?

She leaned forward—just a little—and peeked around the corner of the screen. Jared stood at the bureau, muttering under his breath, fumbling with his gun and holster.

All his clothes on.

Kinsey’s cheeks flushed and she ducked back, silently willing him to leave the room. The wood floor was coarse and bit into her palms. Her knees hurt and her back had started to ache.

To say nothing of how hot the room had become.

Then, to her immense relief, she heard Jared’s footsteps. The door opened, then closed. The room fell silent.

Still, Kinsey waited. She didn’t dare move for fear of making a noise that might drawhim back into the room. She gritted her teeth and silently counted to one hundred—twice. Unable to bear another second on the floor, she got to her feet and heaved a sigh. She pressed her hand to her lower back as she listened at the door for a moment, then, hearing nothing, slipped into the hall.

Arms circled her waist from behind and hauled her back into the room before she could let out a scream. The door slammed shut and she was dropped crossways on the bed. She bounced on the soft mattress and looked up to find Jared Mason towering over her.

Kinsey launched herself off the bed but he caught her again. Their feet tangled and he fell down on the mattress with her.

Her heart pounded as Jared lay on top of her, pinning her to the bed, one of his legs between her knees. She took a swing at him but he caught her wrists and pressed them down, inches from her head. His weight, the heat of his body, soaked into her.

Another few seconds passed before Kinsey realized that he looked as startled as she. His face, hovering just above hers, was taut. His breath quickened. His body tensed.

Then a little smile quirked his lips. “I figured you’d do anything to keep Clark’s son, but I never counted on this.”

Her cheeks flamed, bringing on a wave of anger. “Oh! You think I came here to—! How dare you!”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not why you’re here?”

“Of course not! Get off of me!” Kinsey struggled, trying to free her arms and kick her feet, but he held her easily.

“I’ll scream,” she threatened.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Scream all you want. We’ll get the sheriff up here and you can explain to him—and the whole town, who’ll hear about it before noon—why you’re in my room.”

Kinsey pressed her lips together, the gravity of her circumstances weighing more heavily than Jared atop her. She tried another tack.

“Would you please let me up?” she asked.

He held her, still, just to show her that he could, she suspected.

“You’re hurting me,” she told him.

Jared released her so quickly it startled her. For a man so big he moved with incredible speed, even grace, pushing himself off her and to his feet in an instant.

Kinsey sat up on the bed, yanked her skirt down and straightened her blouse, attempting to do so with a modicum of dignity and self-respect. But when she tried to get to her feet, Jared stepped close again, keeping her in place.

“What are you doing in my room?” He nodded to the dressing screen. “I saw you hiding back there.”

Heat filled her cheeks again, but she pushed up her chin and glared at him. “I came to find out exactly who you are.”

That seemed to surprised him. Obviously, as a member of the powerful Mason family, Jared wasn’t used to having his word questioned.