WildOutlaws (5 page)

David looked her up and down. After rolling his tongue over his bottom lip, he finally said, “Doll, with your body? You look like you need to do a little bit of sinning. You’re in luck, too. I can help corrupt you. In fact, me and the boys here? Well, we’re just plumb happy to oblige.”

* * * *

Mary Margaret gave the cowboy who stepped to the front her complete attention. “What’s your name, outlaw?”

“Outlaw?” He chuckled. “You say that like you think I’m a criminal doggone bent on illegal activity.”

“Well aren’t ya?”

He took a step toward her. Then he took another. “Depends. What do you have in mind, sweet thing?”

A dry raspy laugh fell from her lips. She sounded like a starlet set to seduce a man straight toward her bed. “Oh, darlin’, the things I could’ve once done for you are too delicious to mention, especially since you’re late to supper and have already missed dessert.”

“Name’s David,” he said roughly, bracketing his thick arm around her middle.

He drew her against him and her nipples spiked at the way he manhandled her. Oh boy, she could’ve really enjoyed a man like David.

“I don’t want the full course meal, just a taste of what I missed here today and what I can look forward to indulging in tomorrow,” he said, watching her with quite possibly the sexiest bedroom eyes she’d ever seen. “See doll, I’m pretty sure Tuff here will make an offer you won’t be able to refuse. If he doesn’t, I’ll see what I can do.”

Before she had a chance to stop him, the renegade dipped his head and stole away with a heated kiss, the kind of smooch a woman parted her lips to accept and then gladly invited a full- fledged invasion. The cowboy surprised her. That was for sure. For a man who couldn’t get his lips attached to hers quickly enough, he sure took his time with a satisfying kiss.

Behind them, the others stood still. Either they anxiously awaited her rebuttal, perhaps a slap across the kissing bandit’s face or a more enticing invitation. She wondered which they were hoping for most, given the cowboy’s cocksure attitude. In fact, she wasn’t sure which would bring her the most amount of pleasure.

Considering the way his fingertips played with the wisps of fallen hair at her nape, she was beginning to think she wouldn’t have a problem missing the stagecoach after all. No one in their right mind would skip a moment like this, particularly a whore who had endured rougher customers and was accustomed to the rawest and most explicit situations.

One thing was certain—this was a hell of a first meeting, probably the best she’d ever had and that was saying a lot given the number of customers she’d serviced in the past.

His tongue darted across hers and the soft texture further inspired her. In fact, she could’ve sworn she moaned.
Oh God
, she sighed as his mouth covered hers,
Please tell me I’m not so easily captivated by a smooth-talker’s touch, another strange man’s kiss.

She chastised herself for being that woman. Good Lord in heaven above knew she’d delivered and received plenty of kisses in the past. She’d enjoyed too many men to make eyes at one in particular.

Hadn’t she?

Truth told? No.

She’d never enjoyed a kiss quite like this or ever so much.

His mouth fed from hers. Knobby knuckles brushed across her high cheeks as he continued to feast from her lips. Good God, she needed to run from this man. He was the kind of fellow who could stop trains, halt wagons, and of course, keep wayward women from catching a stagecoach.

She was losing her mind and he was breaking down her defenses. If there was such a thing as love at first sight—and she didn’t really buy all that nonsense—she was halfway there.

Their kiss broke and not a moment too soon. Rarely, if ever, had she survived such an empowering introduction, a telling sign and one she couldn’t exactly ignore.

Her body reacted on emotion rather than lust, the former strictly forbidden among whores and the latter typically expected, given her profession. Her skin was hot to the touch. Her palms were warm and moist. Her body tingled. In the pit of her stomach, it was as if the man had lit a raging fire he never planned to put out and she never wanted contained.

Immediately, her fingertips went to her lips. She stared at the man behind the kiss, the lips responsible for the assault.

She raised her hand and had no idea what she’d first intended but once her arm propelled behind her back, her palm came forward. As if she couldn’t bring herself to defend her honor and command his respect, she stopped short of slapping him.

The cowboy never flinched. He probably knew he had it coming to him. He was apparently gentlemanly enough to accept a smack if she decided he deserved a good pop in the mouth.

“Name’s David Manson…and there’s a whole lot more where that came from.” He shot her a wink and a crooked smile. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll make a believer out of you.”

She bit back a round of curse words and reached for her bag. Tuff, the man she’d met earlier, refused to release her belongings. “Now that David has broken the ice, can we come in and have a word with you?”

Mary Margaret cleared her throat as she searched the lust-filled eyes of one man and then moved on to another. The kiss they’d witnessed played havoc on their loins. Their uneasiness was obvious as the men stood there shifting their weight from one foot to the other. More importantly, the proof was in their breeches. There was plenty of excitement pointing her way.

“If I thought a word was all you wanted, I’d invite you in. Trouble is, I’m afraid you desire more than conversation and God help me if I get a hold of any of you, I may not let go until a day or two after tomorrow.”

“Good,” Tuff said, grinning like he’d just won first prize in some kind of contest. “That’s precisely what I wanted to hear. I believe you should extend that invitation, ma’am. We have a proposition for you. If you’re in the mood to barter, we may be able to offer you something you can’t possibly refuse.”

Chapter Three

The men were in. The door was closed. Introductions were out of the way. Mary Margaret paced the floor, passing her bed where four of the five men sat.

Tuff stood next to the entryway like he fully expected her to try and escape.

“Anticipation is everything,” she drawled, studying the man who’d kissed her like he meant to do it again. “I know better than anyone.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t have time for man-games. A stagecoach was coming for her. She had one life to leave behind and another to embrace.

“We understand you’ve decided to get out of the whoring business,” Tuff said.

“Yes, I have.”

“Altogether?” David asked, piping in with too much enthusiasm.

“That’s the plan.”

“Everyone has a price,” David said, refusing Tuff the opportunity to speak. “Maybe we can convince you to reconsider. I can be very persuasive.”

She was betting all of them could. “I once had a going rate and it was high.” She sashayed over to the window and looked down below. “If those horses down there are any indication, along with your rigs, I guess each of you could afford me, but believe me when I tell you I’m out of the business. The profits aren’t worth the price I pay and they sure won’t keep me warm as I age.”

“You don’t look a day over twenty-five,” Jared said.

She decided to like Jared from that point forward. “So they’ve told me.”

“Who are you referring to when you say ‘they’?” David asked.

She stopped walking and placed her open palm to his sun-kissed cheek, appreciating his skin tone and pretty tan almost as much as she admired the entire man. This was just her luck. On the day she closed her legs and locked up shop, in walked the best looking men she’d ever seen in her life. She honestly considered taking one for the road. Instead, she said, “You know what I am. I’m assuming you realize I’ve given and received many compliments from the opposite sex over the course of forgotten years, lost days, or borrowed time. Call the past what you must but most of mine is completely forgettable. I want to better myself.”

“Forgettable is regrettable,” David said philosophically. “Maybe we can change that.”

She dropped her arm and traipsed back and forth again. “Is there something on your mind, cowboy? If so, please start talking. We’re dancing here and I’m afraid it’s liable to cost me a future suitable partner if we don’t move things along.”

Tuff held up his hand before David added another jab. “We have a job offer for you but it will require you to make a move to Tombstone, Arizona. We need a teacher. I happen to think you’re the best there is for what we have in mind.”

“A teacher?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tuff said.

Her gaze darted from one man to the next. What on earth could these men possibly hope to learn from her?

“We’d like to employ you as soon as possible. That’s why we’re here.”

“You want to put me to work?”

“Yes, ma’am and the sooner the better,” Tuff replied, his answer provoking a group chuckle.

“Oh for heaven’s sakes, please stop calling me ma’am.” She peered in the mirror and readjusted her red tea hat. Loaded with silken feathers and a perfectly shaped rose at the back, the accessory was a charming appointment for the attire she chose. Dressed in an ivory shirtwaist with a matching chemisette, the fabrics were detailed with colorful embroidery. Set off with stunning wide pagoda sleeves, the slimming bodice made her look respectable. She certainly owned a flare for fashion.

In fact, she looked like a teacher.

Now, if she could just act like one.

She considered Tuff’s last response. These men didn’t want a teacher. Perhaps what they really desired was a woman comparable to a mail-order bride. Considering her past, their looks, and her experience, the proposition was tempting.

“What are you asking me?” she asked, wanting clarification as quickly as possible before she fantasized about all sorts of options. Perhaps they were truly interested in a teacher and if so, she’d love to know what they hoped to learn.

Tuff cleared his throat. He studied the men on the bed and must’ve thought the fellows would come to his rescue. Mary Margaret turned toward David. “Oh this must be really good if you’re suddenly minced for words.”

David pulled the brim of his hat low enough to cover his brow.

“Coward,” she muttered.

His arm shot forward and he secured her against him in a matter of seconds. “Want to test that theory again?” he asked, whispering against her lips.

Her mouth dried. His lips were visibly moistened.

“You get off on taking a woman by surprise. Don’t you?”

“No,” he assured her. “Only by taking her altogether.”

* * * *

Creed had witnessed enough. There was something special about Mary Margaret and if Tuff didn’t hurry up and make his proposal, Creed feared they would lose her. After watching the way she responded to David, and more importantly, how David reacted to her, Creed wasn’t willing to let her go. Besides, he happened to believe his fate was on the line.

Creed’s heritage included Shawnee Indian. His grandfather’s tribal customs mandated a call for arranged marriages. While Creed didn’t accept the traditions of his family’s past, he’d held fast to the belief that one day he would find a suitable life partner, a woman who was fated to become his.

He was staring destiny in the eye.

He’d first suspected it when they’d been riding into Cripple Creek. As soon as they hit the smooth dirt roads of the town, the air seemed to change. It was as if there were ghosts there, determined to guide him. They planned to lead him into town resisting and screaming, and that’s almost what happened.

As the wind kicked up the dirt, and clusters of tumbleweed scattered in front of their horses, Creed’s senses had been on alert. There was danger in the air but not death. He always sensed that kind of trouble. This was different.

Creed’s life was about to change.

He’d first found himself face-to-face with a strong sense of dread, but after he met Mary Margaret, his angst disintegrated. He was prepared to embrace the future and determined to see where this would all lead.

If Tuff didn’t kick things up a notch or two, Creed might take over from here. He damn sure wasn’t about to let Mary Margaret run away.

Tuff lived on a bounty hunter’s time and apparently thought everyone else did as well. He was a plotter, planner, one who sat back and gauged others by their expressions and actions. He listened to the questions they asked, the remarks they made, and then went in for the kill. That was a fine way to find a murderer, a super strategy for catching up to someone with a bounty on their head. However, it wasn’t the best way to seduce a woman, particularly one ready to catch a stagecoach.

David released Mary Margaret and her beaded nipples pressed tightly against the layers of her fancy dress. She probably wore a corset underneath and with the chemisette projecting more material than what was possibly there, it was shocking to see the tight gems taking their shapes.

Creed’s mouth watered as he stared at her full bosom. She caught him looking and grinned. Then, damn her, she ran her forefingers across both points and tilted her head, staring him straight in the eye as she fingered her nipples again. This time, she rolled the points around and around.

“You like it when men look at you,” Creed whispered, determined to stay where he was. He didn’t want her to lure him yet. He had more strength than that. He possessed more self-control.

“Of course she does,” David said. “What woman doesn’t enjoy a man’s attention?”

“It never hurts to play,” she said.

“How much do you play, Mary Margaret?” Creed asked. His eyelids felt heavy. His mouth went dry, his lips salty and parched. His upper body wasn’t the problem. His lower half was a different story. He was aroused, hard, and couldn’t remember a time when his cock had been so rigid just by staring at a beautiful woman.

He wanted to touch. He needed to caress and kiss her, and yes—oh God yes—he longed to know the taste of her lips, the feel of her skin, and the clench of her pussy.

“I used to play a lot.”