Page 21 of Native Hawk
She turned to face him then, but another long quiet ensued. Her eyes flitted over the furniture in the room, anywhere but on him.
Damn, she was beautiful. She had a figure like an hourglass, curved in all the right places. It made his loins ache just to look at her.
He cleared his throat. “Your name is…Catalina?”
She nodded, then volunteered, “Catalina Alfredo Romanesca di Lasso Ferragamo—”
The madam swept in with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, interrupting her mid-name. “Here you go.”
To his surprise, Catalina…Etcetera…rushed forward to seize the whiskey. Apparently, she was eager to start her night of drunken revelry…minus the revelry.
She poured herself a finger of whiskey and slugged back half of it at once. Then she gasped and began coughing.
“Whoa, little lady,” he said.
The madam slipped out then, closing the door behind her, probably so the coughing wouldn’t wake up the whole place.
He wasn’t sure if Catalina’s wheezing gasp that followed was from the burn of the whiskey or the fact that there was now a closed door between her and the madam. But she looked genuinely worried.
He started toward her, intending to clap her on the back a few times to make sure she wasn’t choking. Her eyes wide, she backed up against the dresser.
He furrowed his brow. He’d thought the woman was playing coy. But now he wasn’t so sure. Was she actually scared of him?
He’d seen his brother Chase get this reaction out of women before. His growling bear of a twin could frighten women just by walking into the room.
But Drew was nothing like Chase. Drew was a friendly fellow. With a wink and a smile, he could charm the stockings off a schoolmarm.
Of course, he wasn’t exactly smiling at the moment. And she wasn’t exactly a schoolmarm. Maybe he wasn’t smiling because he was still in shock that he’d paid twenty dollars to spend the night with a lady who said she didn’t want to have relations with him, even more shocked that he still felt like he’d gotten a pretty good deal.
But he’d paid for a body to warm his bed. He couldn’t get a good night’s rest while the woman lying next to him was shivering with fear…or choking on whiskey. He’d have to convince her he didn’t mean her any harm. He might be ruthless when it came to gambling, but when it came to matters of the heart, he was as gentle as a kitten.
“There’s no cause to be scared o’ me.”
“Scared?” She straightened. “I am not scared.” Then she angled her head to look at him uncertainly, arching a fine brow. “Should I be?”
Drew could think of several reasons a woman should be afraid to be in a room alone with a stranger. But he didn’t need to tell her the risks of her own profession.
“Not o’ me,” he told her. “I’ve never raised a hand to a woman in my life.” Then an ugly thought crossed his mind. “You ain’t nervous ’cause I’m a half-breed, are you?”
“A what?”
“A half-breed.”
“What is this—half-breed?”
If she didn’t already know, he wasn’t much inclined to tell her. But something about that tiny furrow between her brows told him he should tell her the truth.
“I’m half white and half Indian,” he admitted. “My father’s a Konkow.”
“Konkow,” she echoed.
He liked the way she said it. He liked the way she said everything, even “half-breed.” Her voice had an intoxicating rough edge to it, as well as a fascinating accent.
“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.
She shrugged, puzzled. “You did not decide how you were born.”
“Right.” He liked that answer. “So where are you from, Miss Catalina?”
