block up from the stable was a two-story, gingerbread-fancy building painted pale pink with red trim. The door of the brothel was thrown open and those player-piano sounds drifted through the entry. "There are no guided tours on Heritage Day," Aunt Cat said. "But we can go inside and look around on our own."
Samantha peered into the dim interior. "I think I remember every story you told me about this place." She walked inside, welcoming the opportunity to focus on the past instead of on her present muddle. Her eyes still adjusting to the darkness, she headed for the sound of the piano, into a room occupied by several other visitors.
Suddenly a harsh light blazed in her face. "Celeb! on TV has found her, folks. It's the legendary stripper Gold Fever, right here in Hot Water's legendary brothel."
Blinded by the abrupt switch from dim room to bright camera light, Samantha shrank back, bringing up her hand to protect her eyes.
A microphone was shoved in her face. "Is it true you're related to the prostitutes who ran this bordello?"
Samantha blinked, recognizing the voice of the relentless tabloid reporter she'd spoken to in the park. "Yes," she said. There was no point in denying it.
"So with your career in Las Vegas you were merely following in your family's footsteps?"
"I wouldn't say they were exactly the same career," Samantha protested.
The reporter smirked. "Oh, come on."
Samantha sighed. "I'm done answering questions." She pushed the microphone away.
He shoved it right back in her face. "There are thousands of men who think a visit to Vegas will never be the same now that you're gone. Come on, babe, we want to know what Gold Fever is planning to do next."
"She's spending the rest of her life with me," a deep voice behind her answered.
Samantha's heart leaped, but she ruthlessly reined it back.
The reporter couldn't contain his delight, however, and reached the mike over Samantha's shoulder to get to D. B. "And you are?"
"Her lover and her lawyer. The lady's done with you. Cut off the camera and get lost." Without waiting for the other man's response, D. B. put his hand on Samantha's shoulder and turned her toward him. "I need to talk to you."
"No." Samantha noticed the cameraman was whispering in that jerk of a reporter's ear, and any minute now her embarrassment was going to become D. B.'s catastrophe. She lowered her voice. "Listen, you've got to get out of here before they find out - "
"You're a Superior Court judge, is that right? Judge D. B. Matthews?" The camera light blazed again, trained on D. B.'s face. Holding out the microphone, the reporter pushed past Samantha.
She stumbled.
D. B. shoved the man aside to steady her. "I said, get lost," he told the Celeb! people. "I meant it."
The reporter merely smiled. "As you should know, Judge, it's a free country."
D. B. smiled back. "And this is private property."
"That I own," said a new voice. Honor Witherspoon's voice, the heiress who now owned the district. She strolled into the room, her voice cold. "And you're no longer welcome, Jerry."
"Harry."
"Jerry, Harry, Moe, Curly, Larry. Whoever. It's time for you to leave."
"Listen, Miss Witherspoon." The man resorted to whining. "You - "
"I have the law on my side," Honor said.
Dylan stepped up behind her. He smiled.
Samantha felt the whole room shiver. Within seconds the place cleared out. Then Honor, Aunt Cat, and Dylan disappeared too, leaving her alone with D. B. and the giddy-sounding player piano.
She rubbed her forehead. "It's going to be all over the tabloids, you know. I'll try to find them and deny a relationship, but your goose is probably cooked."
"I don't care what anybody says about us or our relationship." His smile was crooked as he ran a finger down her cheek. "My goose is only cooked if you won't hear me out."
With the greatest of efforts, she held herself still. "Please, D. B. Don't say it again." If he mentioned marriage one more time, she might break down and accept his proposal. She inhaled a fortifying breath, strengthening herself with the idea of Rose and her sister - and all the Wilders after - who had made it through their lives without depending upon a man. "I won't listen."
"Please, Samantha," he said quietly. "You have to give me a second chance to get it right."
But that was easy to answer. "I don't believe in second chances."
"I don't believe you. Everything you've done in Hot Water has screamed second chance. A second chance