Just Her Type by Jo Ann Ferguson

she whispered.
    His hand curved along her cheek again. “All right, if you say so. I’m going to get some clean water.”
    Last night she had not wanted him to touch her, but today she had to fight to keep from shouting for him to come back and hold her. A temptation to trouble . Although she seldom agreed with Aaron, he was right. Luke was a temptation she must ignore.
    Looking up from the advertisements she was editing for the issue due out in two days, Mackenzie smiled. “Luke, you can’t expect me to listen to that prattle without comment.”
    â€œYou never listen to anything without comment.” He put the broom by the stairs and yawned. They both had worked hard yesterday and today, and would again tomorrow.
    â€œHow can you say that Wyoming women should be disenfranchised?”
    He sat on the half-wall and crossed his arms. “Why should the women here be allowed a right no other women in the United States have?”
    â€œYou should ask why the rest of the women haven’t been given the rights we have.”
    His dark eyes crinkled. “Enlighten me, Mackenzie, as long as you don’t mind if I pass your comments on to the readers of the Independent . They should be amused by them.”
    She mirrored his nonchalant pose. “All right, but not now. You need to get back to work.”
    He crossed the room in a pair of steps. When he put one hand on the back of her chair and the other on her desk, his nose was only inches from hers. “Listen, Mackenzie, you’ve kept me so busy working for you, that I haven’t done any of the work I promised Carter.”
    â€œI’m your editor now.”
    â€œNot by my choice.”
    As she rose, she smiled coolly. “You’ve had your future, at least for the next few weeks, dictated to you without any consideration of your opinions. That makes you feel lousy, doesn’t it?”
    He chuckled. “Don’t try to twist my words to prove your point. Working for you has nothing to do with women’s suffrage.”
    â€œIt doesn’t? You’re in a situation over which you have no control. Just like the women back east.”
    Putting his hand on her arm, he brought her to face him. “And your feminine wiles prove why our country is safer when women don’t vote. There’s enough corruption without allowing you to bring your unique charms to complicate the situation.” His voice deepened. “And you do have unique charms.”
    Peeling his fingers off her arm, she drew back. She had been a fool to let him kiss her once. “Deadline is looming.”
    â€œMackenzie—”
    â€œNot now! We have to get this done.”
    â€œAnd after deadline?”
    She turned away. Her body yearned to succumb to his thrilling touch. Work would exhaust her. Then she could fall into her bed and sleep, despite the dreams of Luke that came to her.
    Mackenzie sat at her desk and watched dust motes dancing in the sunlight. Leaning her elbow on the desk, she rested her cheek against her palm. Last night had been a late one, for one of the toggles on the platen had stuck. Even with Luke’s help, it had taken more than an hour to fix. Once again, despite ridiculous odds, The Bentonville Bugle had met its deadline.
    More work needed to be finished before supper. News of the upcoming statehood must be posted everywhere in town. She also had agreed to print posters for a traveling theater group.
    Reaching for the poster she had been sent to copy, she saw something on top of it. Where had this slip of paper come from? Opening it, she did not dare to breathe as she read the crude note.
    No rite about cattel ruselers .
    Rite and Bugle be burnt again .
    Rite and boy die as Pa died .
    Mackenzie crumpled the page and threw it into the trash can. Vicious laughter rang through her head. She whirled. No one. Only her own terror.
    Pa would not have taken such a threat in silence. He would have expounded in