Devil in Texas(69)

Rising from the mattress, he unbuckled his gun belt. Then he sauntered toward her, all sizzle and sin in his gaping black shirt and adorably darned socks. Tufts of golden hair curled past his sagging placards. Sunlight glanced off the thigh-hugging leather that sheathed his legs. Tawny stubble roughened his chin, allowing the roguish cleft to play hide and seek with her fingertips.

As she smiled into his eyes, mischief flared anew in their sapphire depths.

"You know," he drawled, stroking a knuckle along her chestnut sideburn, "I've been a Ranger for a whole damned day, and I still haven't put a man in handcuffs."

"Poor darling. I can see how that might distress a big, brazen tin-star like yourself."

"Wanna get arrested?"

She hid her smirk. "Well now. That all depends on how you negotiate my surrender."

Chuckling wolfishly, he dragged her forward for his kiss. Her beard didn't slow him in the least. He plundered her mouth with velvet thrusts; he teased her lips with toe-curling nibbles. He tasted like salt and cinnamon; he smelled of sandalwood, leather, and cloves. The erotic mingling of flavors and scents made her pulse quicken and her skin flush.

Luxuriating in all his chiseled planes and angles, she shimmied closer, and he rewarded her submission, kneading her buttocks. She reveled in the shower of sparks, heating her belly. His expert petting promised the kind of pleasure a saint would have sinned for.

And she had never been a saint.

Abruptly, he raised his head. He licked his lips. Flames danced in the dark centers of his midnight-blue eyes.

"Well? You want to be my prisoner?"

"Hot damn." She didn't mind that she was panting. Not one little bit. "I think I'm tempted. But consider yourself warned, Lucifire. A tricky She-devil like me usually winds up on top."

"I'm counting on it, Tiger."

He loved her like a firecracker. A rocket. A shooting star. He prolonged her ecstasies, taking her to exquisite pinnacles that even she'd never climbed to before. The fortress of her heart cracked open, and sentiment began to flow. She confided that she'd missed him over the years. That Lucifire and Destiny were songs about him. That writing lyrics and singing their melodies were ways of remembering all the good times they'd shared. She confessed how she wanted to see him happy, but that it was hard to let him go.

"Hell, I'm not going anywhere, woman," he growled against her ear, "except to Denver. With you."

She smiled a little at his promise and snuggled closer, resting her check on the downy fur of his chest. "I'm glad," she admitted.

"You are?"

"Didn't I just prove it?"

He chuckled. "I reckon you did."

Tucking the blanket around her shoulders, he began to stroke her hair. The steady thrumming of his heart lulled her. Wooed her. She was beginning to slip into a nice, fuzzy doze when his voice rumbled once more beneath her ear.

"You think we should get ourselves a coon?"

She started awake, imagining stolen jewelry. Gnawed beards. Lip paint trampled into her bloomers. She grimaced.

"No."

"But what if Vandy meets a lady coon and—"

"No."

"You know, having folks to love isn't a bad thing."

She bit her lip, relieved for the cloaking shadows of cedar trees, limestone bluffs, and cumulus clouds as they sped past her window. "What... um... do you mean?"

He kissed her hand. "Ask me again. After we get home from Denver."

He twined his fingers through hers. They were strong and thick, warm and callused. He squeezed. She squeezed back.

Denver. She closed her eyes and sighed. In four more days, she would have to report to Allan Pinkerton.

Until that time, she supposed she could dream.

The End



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Want more from Adrienne deWolfe?

Here's an excerpt from

DANCE TO THE DEVIL'S TUNE

Lady Law & The Gunslinger Series

Book Two

~

Denver, CO

November 1883

Cass swept up the limp, unconscious form of the woman he loved and carried her to the bed. He paused only long enough to fling aside a corner of the quilt. As he tugged off Sadie's boots and smoothed her chemise around her ankles, she smiled softly, oblivious to his betrayal.

At least for the moment.

Hardening his heart, Cass reached behind her neck with the light touch of a veteran thief and slipped the hooks that latched her necklace. A river of diamonds, emeralds, and gold-platinum spilled into his palm. He shoved this bait into his bag of loot. Pinkerton had gone to great lengths to accumulate the precious gems appropriate for Sadie's contessa disguise—gems that were supposed to lure the master thief, Maestro, to her side. The emeralds would fetch an especially handsome price from Cass's criminal contacts in the Underground.

"Whether you like it or not," he chided her softly, tucking the quilt around her voluptuous curves, "a female tin-star has limitations. And I'd rather you learned that lesson from me than a Pinkie Killer."

He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the musky scent of woman, patchouli, and lavender-scented linen. He couldn't resist brushing a silken curl from her breasts. Wistfully, he watched the dance of darling, rose-gold freckles each time she took a breath.

His throat worked. He forced himself to look away.

Retrieving his Stetson, he turned down the lamp and slipped into the hotel's hall.

"Is it done?" Collie demanded, never missing a stroke with his whittling knife.

Cass nodded curtly at his 17-year-old sidekick and tugged the penthouse door closed.

Collie's raccoon snorted awake. Spying nothing out of the ordinary, Vandy flopped over, waved his paws in the air, and promptly fell back to sleep.

"Some watch dog," Cass muttered.

"Don't go busting your spleen on Vandy. Pinkerton's the one you're pissed at for putting your woman at risk."

"I got plenty of spleen to go around," Cass growled, envisioning the moment when he got his hands on the bastard who'd killed a Lady Pinkerton. So help me God, Sadie will not suffer the same fate.

"I'll take these rocks to the fence," Cass said. "Don't let Sadie out of your sight."

"I ain't the push-over you are, Snake Bait."

Cass glared at his sidekick.

"Aw, lighten up," Collie said sheepishly. "You're Coyote Cass. Maestro's no match for you. You'll bait him. You'll trap him. He'll hang, and we'll all go home in plenty of time for Thanksgiving."

Cass nodded grimly. Turning on his heel, he stepped over Vandy and headed for the elevator. He hoped Collie was right.

Because Thanksgiving or no, Cass wasn't sure Sadie would ever forgive him.

~