Payton's Woman by Marilyn Yarbrough Page A

his mouth against hers, and the stroke of his tongue across her breast.
A groan escaped her lips when she realized the direction her mind had taken. She
attempted to chase away those thoughts as she forced down the heat that sizzled
in her body.
    Her obligation to Payton
had to be repaid quickly so she could get on with what needed to be done. She
refocused her mind as she walked toward him. “You don’t look very happy. Have
you been waiting long?”
    “Not long.” He had a coolness
in his voice. His gaze scanned her body. “More of your employer’s borrowed
clothes?”
    She brushed her hand
down the front of the orchard colored gown. Her fingers adjusted the tilt of
the matching bonnet. This outfit had been purchased with money she’d earned as
a maid when she’d lived with her mother in Chico.
    “I bought this myself
long before I went to work for Mrs. Collins,” she answered in a voice as cool
as his.
    His gaze wandered over
her once more. His features softened as a smile tugged at his lips. “You look
beautiful no matter who paid for them.”
    She started up the path
at a leisurely pace. Payton strolled along beside her. Other people meandered through
the park. She waited until they passed before she spoke. “Sunday is my day off.
I can meet you tomorrow at the Claremont Restaurant for dinner if that’s
convenient for you. Do you know where it is?”
    “Why are you working for
Betsy Collins?” he asked without warning.
    Puzzled, she glanced at
his face. He stared back at her through narrowed eyelids. His lips thinned and
pressed together. She wondered why he would be concerned about her employment. “I
need the work.”
    “Do you know what she
is?”
    “She’s an elderly lady
who requires the services of a secretary.”
    “She’s not a lady.” He
took her arm and forced her to stop walking. He turned her to him. “She’s
stolen people’s lives with every vice known to man.”
    “I don’t concern myself
with gossip,” she said stiffly. “And neither should you.”
    “Why are you working for
her?” he asked again, but it sounded more like a demand than a question.
    “I already told you,”
she answered as calmly as she could. “I need the work. Not everyone can be a
sea captain,” she added with a little sarcasm.
    “I suppose not.” His stance
relaxed, and his smile returned. He tucked her arm through the crook of his
elbow before starting along the path again. “Have you worked for her long?”
    “About three months.”
    “You don’t seem like the
usual type of…ah…girl she would hire. How did you happen to go to work for her?”
    Julia knew the type of
girl he meant. She surmised he must have discovered Betsy had owned a brothel
before she moved to Sacramento.
    “She attends the same
church that I—” She paused with her explanation when he broke into laughter. “Do
you really want to hear this?”
    “Absolutely,” he said in
a sober voice, but humor shone in his eyes. “The novelty of a repentant Dunbar
just took me by surprise. Please, go on.”
    She took a deep breath and
let it out slowly while trying to regain her composure. “While Mrs. Collins
recuperated at home from the fall that injured her knee, some of the ladies
from the church visited her. I went along a few times and eventually offered
her my services.”
    “Services?” He cocked a
dark eyebrow.
    “As a secretary. She
must have thought it just as amusing as you. That’s probably why she hired me.”
    “Why was it so amusing?”
    “Because of my
references.”
    A quizzical look spread
over his face. “What’s wrong with your references?”
    “Nothing. I was staying
with the family of one of the deacons of the church. My father had been
minister of another church for a number of years.”
    He came to a sudden halt.
Without speaking, he stared at her.
    “I suppose you find that
amusing also?”
    “Not in the least. Does
your father know who you’re working for?”
    “My father is dead. So
is my