Gunslinger Read Free

and he feared he was going to die out there on the desert. He drifted in and out of consciousness for two days before an Apache hunting party stumbled upon him.
    Desperado dragged his thoughts away from that fateful day and tossed back another whiskey, staring glumly into the mirror. Suddenly the swinging doors slammed inward and Desperado squinted against the glare of sunlight reflecting back to him in the mirror. He blinked, then blinked again, stunned to see the curvy, trouser-clad Miss Chloe Sommers push through the swinging doors. Time hung suspended as every man in the saloon ogled the feminine curves so blatantly displayed in tight, definitely unfeminine clothing. With his back to her, Desperado watched through the mirror as Chloe’s long-legged stride brought her to the center of the saloon, where she paused uncertainly as if to gather her thoughts.
    Chloe had never been inside a saloon before but desperation made her dare anything. After being curtly rejected by the despicable gunslinger known as Desperado Jones, she had no other choice. If she failed to get her herd to the railhead, Calvin Talbot would buy her ranch for the back taxes. And without a hired gun along on the trail drive, she hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of reaching the railhead with enough cattle left to sell.
    Curling her lip in what she hoped was a mean-as-hell expression, she scanned the room and its occupants. A few of the men she knew, most she didn’t. All looked disreputable. Then her gaze lit on Desperado Jones and she no longer had to pretend the mean-as-hell look; suddenly it was very real. He had his back to her, nonchalantly sipping his whiskey. Chloe knew he watched her in the mirror, and that made her even angrier.
    When she had the undivided attention of everyone one in the saloon, with possibly the exception of Desperado Jones, she cleared her throat and said, “I’m hiring on a gunslinger. Do any of you polecats have the guts to apply for the job?”
    No one stepped forward to volunteer. Undaunted, Chloe said, “The job pays well.”
    Like puppets on a string, the men turned their heads to stare at Desperado, who pretended not to have heard. Boldly Chloe approached the gunslinger, intending to shame him into accepting.
    “What about you, Mr. Jones? Are you interested in the job?”
    With studied indifference, Desperado calmly sipped his whiskey. Chloe felt like a fool when the saloon customers, following Desperado’s example, resumed their conversation and returned to the activities she had interrupted. Her face flaming, Chloe brazenly tapped Desperado on the shoulder.
    Desperado turned slowly, his dark eyes kindling with desire as they slid over her curves with blatant speculation.
    “I haven’t changed my mind, lady. I don’t work for females,” he drawled in that raspy voice of his that sent shivers down her spine. “But,” he added, stunning her with a dimpled smile, “I’ll gladly accommodate you in any other way.”
    Someone in the room tittered. Then another. Until the entire room echoed with laughter. Seething with outrage and embarrassed by Desperado’s brazen suggestion, Chloe flung her arm back and let it fly straight toward Desperado’s bristly cheek. Desperado must have read her mind for he caught her wrist in a viselike grip before her blow connected.
    “Don’t ever raise your hand to me,” he said in his creepy whisper.
    “Or what?” Chloe challenged with false bravado. There were too many eyes upon her to back down before the ornery half-breed.
    He smiled again, displaying that damnable dimple. “Or you won’t like the consequences.”
    “Go to hell!” she shouted, wresting her wrist from his grasp and whirling on her heel.
    Desperado watched her strut from the room, her sweet little bottom all taut and hard beneath her Levi’s. Her bottom wasn’t the only thing all taut and hard, he thought ruefully. His own trousers barely contained the rigid length of his sex and he thought about