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Heart at Risk

Colombia

The stillness was eerie. Black. . .silent. . .encompassing. No sound of distant voices, no chirp of a cricket, chatter of a bird. Not a leaf stirred, not a creature scurried, as the six men hastened through the trees, their footsteps swathed in darkness and silence.

Suddenly the blackness was breached by a dim light filtered through the shutters of a window on the upper floor of a two-story stone building that stood like a monolith amid the scattered wooden shacks that surrounded it.

They had reached their target.

They'd been told that the local residents rarely ventured out at night, and despite the heat, kept their doors locked and shutters closed. Kurt could only hope tonight was no exception.

The strident bark of a dog split the stillness. Cassidy raised his hand, halting the squad. The barking ceased as quickly as it had begun and was too distant for their presence to have alerted the animal, so they moved on.

As they neared their objective, the squad pulled on their thermo night vision goggles, casting the darkness into a surrealistic green that enabled them to read the H sign hung above the front entrance of the building. To Kurt a hospital meant sanctuary, a place of healing.

So how come I have a knot in my gut and goosebumps on my arms?

A door slammed and the men froze The faint glow of a cigarette indicated the presence of a man, an automatic weapon hung from a strap on his shoulder.

"Make him?" Cassidy whispered. Kurt nodded. "Take him out."

Kurt raised the scoped-sniper rifle and lined up the target. As soon as they heard the faint pop of the silencer, the squad moved quickly and entered the building.

Despite the wooden floor, the six men stole up the stairway without a sound and proceeded toward a lit room at the end of the hallway, halting to make sure each room they passed was deserted.

The final room had double doors that swung inward. Cassidy shoved up his goggles. The rest of the team did likewise, then waited as he peered cautiously through the glass in one of the doors. The wait seemed endless. He glanced at Don Larson beside him. Larson nodded, and tightened his hold on the weapon he carried. Cassidy and Larson would be the first two through the doors. The whole squad was tensed and wired. Ready to go. It was always like this right before the action.

Cassidy turned his head and mouthed the word eight, indicating there were eight armed men inside. The squad was outnumbered, but had the element of surprise—if not, all hell would have broken out by now.

He mouthed the word nine and made a slashing motion across his right arm to indicate there were nine unarmed people on the right side of the room.

They most likely were the six American hostages the squad had come to rescue, and probably three local medical people. Kurt could only hope that none of them would get hit when the firing started.

Cassidy stepped back, nodded, then pushed the doors open.

Within seconds the shooting, shouting, and cries of alarm had ended, and the fight was over. None of the team or hostages had been wounded and as the squad checked the bodies on the floor Cassidy announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, we're here to get you out. Please do exactly as told." He repeated the same message in Spanish.

A slim, middle-aged man stepped forward. "I am Dr. Fernando Escobar, head of this hospital," he said in accented English. "We are grateful to you and your men, but I must offer medical assistance to any of those wounded men who require it."

Kurt shook his head when Cassidy glanced at him.

"None require it," Cassidy said succinctly.

"Then I must check my patients." The doctor went over to two hospital beds that had been shoved against a wall in the corner of the room. One of the women, obviously a nurse, joined him.

Cassidy turned back to the hostages. "Who's in charge among you?"

"I'm Dr. Eric Danvers." one of the men said. "We're a volunteer medical group. We come down here for a month each year to offer medical assistance."

"I'm aware of that, sir. And we're here to take you home. Dr. Escobar, what about your staff and patients? Do you wish to be evacuated?"

"No, these patients are local villagers, the victims of for-profiting organ harvesting," Dr. Escobar replied. "It is a very common practice among the poor in this area. The harvesters come into the village, pay the locals a meager amount of money, extract the organs in a makeshift operating room and then dump the victims on our doorstep, not really caring if they live or die. None of us are in danger now. The terrorists were after the Americans."

"As you wish, sir," Cassidy said. "Did any of these men mention what terrorist group they belonged to?"

"No," Escobar replied. "But I am sure you know or you wouldn't be here." He turned back to his patients.

Kurt felt relieved when he heard the sudden tell-tale whir of a helicopter—their taxi had arrived. And punctual as usual.

With a wordless command Cassidy nodded to Rick Williams and Pete Bledsoe. They knew what was expected of them and led out.

Once they were airborne, the rescued hostages settled down and talked in low tones among themselves.

Too tired to follow the conversation, Kurt leaned his head against the wall, closed his eyes and thought about the mission.

Once again the Dwarf squad had made it through without anyone seriously wounded. He couldn't help grinning when he thought of how the Agency had tagged them the Dwarf Squad because they used the names of the seven dwarfs as code names. Then the grin slowly faded as he thought of Danny Sardino, code name Bashful, who had been killed in Beirut two years earlier. Danny had been the only squad member killed from the time they were formed.

These men were his brothers. His only family. All had been former SEALS when the CIA had recruited them for RATCOM, the Agency's Rescue and Antiterrorist command. Rick Williams and Pete Bledsoe were the only exceptions; the two Brits had served in England's SAS. They'd all been together for almost four years, with the exception of Justin Anderson, who'd become a member of the squad six months before when Mike Bishop, the leader of the squad had been pulled out and made Deputy Secretary of RATCOM. Dave Cassidy had moved up to squad leader.

And each man in the squad had an individual specialty—his was sharpshooter. Together the six men were a definitive weapon.

 

Excerpt from HEART AT RISK
© Ana Leigh, 2009 - All rights reserved
Pocket Star - a February 2009 Release
ISBN 1416551387
Order a Copy

Arizona
1874

As Rico Fraser stuffed several extra boxes of cartridges into his saddlebags he studied Captain Don Masters and the two women who were engaged in conversation nearby. He felt the heated tug at his groin as his gaze focused on the young woman dressed in a yellow gown. A wide-brim white hat restrained the auburn hair that hung past her shoulders. In the midst of the austere background of the fort she looked like a brilliant statuette.

A sudden burst of wind grabbed her hat and sent it soaring, and for the briefest of seconds he smiled as the provocative lilt of her laughter carried to his ears. The sound brought to mind the pleasing tinkle of the vesper chime at the mission where he grew up. Then the warm velvety brown of his eyes faded, clouded by the painful memory of his last visit to the mission on the occasion of the death of Father Chavez, his beloved uncle. He lowered his gaze and tied the strings of his saddlebags.

Masters scurried after the hat as it fluttered along the ground and lodged against Rico's legs. Rico bent down and recovered the hat before it could take flight again, then smacked it across his thigh several times to get rid of the dust.

Grinning, he handed it to the captain. "Best tie it down, Captain, or you'll lose it for sure."

The officer laughed and the men shook hands as the two women joined them. "Rico, these beautiful ladies are Miss Andrea Burke and her niece, Miss Jennifer Burke."

Rico doffed his hat. "My pleasure, ladies."

"Rico is our civilian scout," Masters said.

Andrea Burke smiled graciously. "How do you do, Mr. Fraser. Captain Masters said you're a scout. Were you raised in this area?"

Rico returned the friendly smile of the pleasant-looking blond woman. "No, ma'am. I was raised in California."

He swung his gaze to the younger woman. My God, she's gorgeous, he observed as he met the green-eyed stare of Jennifer Burke. She acknowledged the introduction with a nod, but said nothing.

"Where are you off to, Rico?" Masters asked.

"Colonel Hardy's sending me out to find Private Hanson."

"Is the poor soul lost?" Andrea asked.

Masters shook his head. "No, Andrea, Private Hanson abandoned his post and deserted."

"Then in other words, Mr. Fraser, you're actually not going out to help him, but to track him down and bring him back to punish him, I suppose." The reprimand had come from Jennifer Burke.

Rico turned his head and encountered her glare of disapproval. "I suppose so, ma'am."

"But why? You're not army, Mr. Fraser."

"That's what I'm paid to do, Miss Burke."

Their stares remained locked: hers emerald with disgust, his guarded in reflection.

Masters spoke up quickly. "Jenny, if a man deserts his post, it can start an epidemic among the men to attempt it too. We can't let that happen."

Ignoring the captain's explanation, Jennifer said, "So in truth, Mr. Fraser, you're nothing better than a bounty hunter."

The hostile look in her eyes challenged him to refute it. "I wouldn't say that, ma'am. I'm much better at the task than most of them." His smirk was a subtle teasing. Rico tipped a finger to his hat. "Pleasure meeting you ladies."

Rico nodded to Masters, mounted his horse, and rode away. He didn't look back; but he could feel her green-eyed stare boring into his back right between his shoulder blades.

"Well, Mr. Fraser put you in your place, Jenny," Andrea said.

"Rude and arrogant, isn't he?"

Andrea smiled indulgently. "Honey, I'd say you were the rude one."

Jenny shrugged. "I suppose so, but I can't blame anyone for wanting to get away from this place. I dream of the day I'm old enough to do so without my father sending a bounty hunter after me to bring me back."

"Jennifer Burke, you know that isn't so. Mr. Miles was not a bounty hunter, he was a Pinkerton detective."

"In my eyes that's no different than a bounty hunter. He was being paid by my father to bring me back against my will, wasn't he?"

"Jenny, you were only eighteen years old. I don't blame your father. I was as concerned for your welfare as he was."

"All I was trying to do was find a job to earn the money to go to college. If my father was that concerned about my welfare, why wouldn't he give me the money to do so?"

"Honey, I'm sure Don's not interested in listening to us air our dirty laundry,"

Jenny blushed. "Forgive me, Don. It's very rude of me. Never the less, that doesn't change the fact that Mr. Fraser appeared to be very arrogant."

"Perhaps for good cause, Jenny," Don Masters said. "Colonel Hardy claims Rico's the best scout he's ever seen."

Andrea's eyes glowed with admiration. "Well, he's certainly the best-looking one I've ever seen. Tall, handsome, and did you notice those gorgeous brown eyes of his, Jenny?"

How could I not have noticed? They were warm enough to melt an iceberg, Jenny reflected. "I didn't notice. But I did notice his complexion looked too olive to be an Indian, and he was taller and more broad-shouldered than any of the Mexicans I've seen."

Andrea was too wise to swallow her niece's act. Amused, she said, "You noticed all that, but not those brown eyes of his. Or that dark hair, I suppose."

"His mother was Spanish," Don Masters said. "He speaks the language fluently."

"The name Fraser certainly doesn't sound Spanish," Andrea remarked.

"If I remember, Rico said his father had been a Virginian who came west shortly after the gold rush." Don clutched a hand dramatically to his heart. "But, I'm crushed, Andrea. I had hopes you'd have a preference for s man with light hair."

Andrea blushed. "But I do. Especially men in the army. Blond hair is so flattering with their blue uniforms. I'm simply looking out for my niece's prospects."

"Your niece can look out for her own prospects, my dear Aunt Andrea," Jenny scoffed. "And I can assure you, it won't be an arrogant, dark-headed bounty hunter." Her gaze swung to where Rico Fraser was just riding out of the gate. Then she opened her parasol and strolled casually away from the couple.

# # # Rico dismounted and hunched down to examine the spoor. The hot sun had dried practically all the moisture out of the horse manure, but it sure hadn't diminished the odor. He stood up and stretched the tired muscles of his tall frame.

"This is where he stopped before crossing, Bucep. He can't be more than a few hours ahead of us."

As if to respond the black stallion flicked its tail.

From his vantage point Rico's gaze swept the distant mesas and canyons of the mountain range. He shook his head. "The damn fool's riding straight into the Apache stronghold, Bucep, and I'm a bigger fool for following him. But I need the money and I'm too close on Hanson's heels to stop now."

Remounting, he worked his way down the sloping decline to the riverbank, and then reined up when he found what he was looking for in the moist silt: the hoof prints of a horse.

"Looks like this is where he crossed." He patted the horse's neck. "A cool swim should make us both feel better."

His gaze once again swept the nearby mountainous terrain laden with ponderosa pine, juniper, and piñion. Rays of bright sunlight transformed the rocky ridges and crags into ever-changing colors. In an awesome moment cinnamon became red, red became orange, and orange became gold.

"But it sure is a might pretty sight, Bucep, isn't it?" He goaded the horse into the water.

An hour later, as if driven by the rumble of the distant thunder, dark clouds drifted across the once blue sky, shrouding it in gray. Large drops started to splatter the earth and Rico pulled a poncho out of his saddlebags. He had no intention of taking cover. This might be the break he was looking for if the downpour forced Hanson to halt.

Within minutes the rain became a torrent making the granite slopes slippery and treacherous to maneuver. By nightfall he finally pulled up. He'd get an early start in the morning.

He stretched out under the protection of an overhanging ledge, confident that by this time tomorrow he'd be headed back to the fort with Private Hanson. As he chewed on a piece of jerky, he lay with thoughts of the green eyes on the feisty gal dressed in a bright yellow dress and wide-brimmed white hat on her auburn hair.

The following morning circling buzzards led him to his quarry—only the Apaches had reached it sooner. A dozen arrows protruded from Hanson's slumped body bound to a tree.

Rico shook his head sadly as he cut off the arrows. "Looks like they used him for target practice, Bucep." After wrapping the body in a blanket, he tied it to the back of his saddle. "Let's get out of here." # # # Bone-tired Rico arrived back at the fort two days later and faced an angry Colonel Hardy across a desk.

"I'm not paying for any damn blanket you bloodied up. Why in hell didn't you just bury him instead of toting him back here?" the colonel declared. Hardy took several puffs from the cigar jutting between his lips and rolled it expertly back into the corner of his mouth.

"You told me to bring him back, sir. Nothing was said about dead or alive."

"The man deserted his post, and stole a horse belonging to the United States Army," Hardy declared. "I preferred you'd have brought the horse back instead. I've got no sympathy for a man who deserts his post in hostile territory."

"At least the poor fool will have a decent burial now."

"Just the same I ought to cut this figure in half," Hardy grumbled as he signed the voucher. "Turn this into Sergeant Levens to get your money."

Hardy's frown deepened when Rico got up to leave. "I haven't dismissed you."

"Colonel Hardy, I'll remind you again that I don't take orders from you. I'm a civilian scout and not part of your army. And as soon as I cash in this voucher, I'll no longer even be that."

Hardy broke into laughter. "Mr. Fraser, civilian or not, everyone within the walls of this fort takes orders from me. And you damn well know it. But that's what I like about you, Rico. That doesn't intimidate you." He grinned and picked up the cigar case from its perpetual spot on the right corner of his desk, and offered one to Rico.

"Sit down, son, and relax." He leaned across his desk and lit Rico's cigar, then opened a bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses.

"We're going to miss you, Rico. You're the best at what you do."

"Thank you, sir. But I think Jake Bedford will do just as good a job for you, Colonel."

"So where are you headed?"

"Well, sir, it's by intention to go back to California for a short visit with my family, but since I've only had about eight hours of sleep in the past four days I'm going to spend five bucks of this fifty I just earned and soak this trail dust off me, eat the largest steak Maude Evans can drudge up, and then go to bed and sleep the clock around. Then it's goodbye to Fort Redemption."

Rico swallowed the shot. It hit his empty stomach with a stinging punch. He stood up and put the glass down on the desk. "Thanks for the whiskey and smoke, sir."

After cashing in the voucher Rico led his horse to the stable. "I bet you're as tired as I am, aren't you, pal?" he murmured as he rubbed down the horse. After feeding and watering him, he put the horse in a clean stall. "Have a good rest, pal. You've earned it."

Abandoning the fort, he went to the bathhouse in the town located outside of the gates. He had all he could do to stay awake as he soaked in a hot bath. Too sleepy to shave, he headed back to his quarters in the fort and encountered Andrea and Jennifer Burke.

"Good afternoon, ladies."

"What a pleasant surprise. Good afternoon, Mr. Fraser," Andrea said. Jennifer nodded.

"And what brings you lovely ladies to town?"

"Actually, we're just on the verge of leaving," Andrea said.

"Andrea, will you come here for a moment?" a man called to her from a nearby carriage. Rico recognized him as Frank Burke.

"Excuse me." Andrea hurried over to him.

For a long moment an awkward silence developed between Rico and Jennifer Burke. He was about to excuse himself when she said, "So, Mr. Fraser, did you bring back that soldier you were chasing after?"

"Yes I did."

"I can't help but feel sorry for him. It seems to me that if he hated it here enough to desert, why not just let him go? What do they do with him now? A public flogging in front of the regiment, or do they cart him off to a federal prison for the rest of his life?"

"Actually they've probably buried him by now, Miss Burke."

Jennifer paled. "You mean you killed him?"

"No, he was dead when I found him. All I did was cut off the dozen Apache arrows in him."

Her shock was evident and left her momentarily speechless. "I suppose you feel I owe you an apology for defending a man whose desperation drove him to his death."

"Not to me, Miss Burke. To the army for jumping to conclusions on matters that don't concern you or understand."

"How unchivalous of you, Mr. Fraser. Do you hold all women in such low esteem?"

"Not at all, Miss Burke. Your contrast only increases the admiration and affection I already hold dearly for the women my cousins married. I've never seen any evidence that any one of them are rude, spoiled brats with nasty tongues."

Her rising anger returned the color to her cheeks. "Now who is jumping to conclusions, Mr. Fraser.? I am neither rude nor spoiled. You know little about me, sir."

"And have no desire to know any more." He tipped his hat. "Have a pleasant day, Miss Burke."

Andrea returned as he walked away. "Your father said he still has some business in town and won't be returning to the ranch until tomorrow."

"And I'm sure that business is Maude Evans," Jenny remarked, still seething over her conversation with Rico Fraser.

"I don't understand why my brother doesn't marry the woman instead of pretending they're just friends,' Andrea said.

"Marry a woman who runs a saloon? Come now, Aunt Andrea, you know how much of a snob my father is. Or should I say hypocrite? He sees nothing wrong with sneaking around and spending the night with her. But marry her? Heaven forbid. The whole town knows what he's up to."

"He loved your mother very much, honey," Andrea said, in defense of her brother.

"I'm sure he did, Aunt Andrea, but my mother's been dead for twenty years. And Mr. Evans died fifteen years ago. Since then the two of them have been carrying on this relationship."

Andrea smiled kindly. "A man has needs, honey."

Amused, Jenny replied, "Apparently so does a woman."

Andrea linked an arm through Jenny's. "Well, do you want to remain in town or go home? Stumpy and Charlie are ready to leave."

"So am I," Jenny grumbled. "This town is getting too small for my tastes."

Andrea gave her a perceptive look. "I gather you and Mr. Fraser crossed swords again."

"Touchè, Aunt Andrea. Haven't you noticed I'm dripping blood?"

 

Excerpt from HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO
© Ana Leigh, 2009 - All rights reserved
Pocket Star - a May 2009 Release
ISBN 0373276206
Order a Copy

     Garth had returned to Rory’s rooming house, and when no one answered his knock, he’d spent the next quarter of an hour searching for her. He finally located her in the diner.

     For a long moment he watched her through the window. She looked like a schoolgirl, with her face scrubbed clean and her long hair tied back with a blue ribbon. He felt the heated surge to his groin. Every time he saw her, his desire grew greater.

     She appeared to be deep in thought as she gazed into space and raised a cup to her mouth to sip from it. The sight of it evoked a memory of Lissy and Becky sitting at the kitchen table the morning he said good-bye to them several weeks ago. Despite that tough façade she presented, Rory was very much like them.

     Sure, she was used to a different kind of life, but she wasn’t any less vulnerable and feminine. And she probably harbored the same kind of dreams as his sister and his brother’s wife. And all three weathered whatever life threw at them with an amazing innocence—and a damn lot of grit.

     Rory fascinated him. He liked her humor and the sound of her laughter. And every time he looked at her, his groin told him that wasn’t all he liked about her. Yeah, he wouldn’t mind sticking around for a couple more days—but right now, getting hung up on a gal didn’t fit into his plans. A good time was all he had in mind.

     Her expression suddenly changed, and he couldn’t help grinning, because whatever she was thinking caused her to thrust that pert little chin of hers up in the air.

     He opened the door and went inside. “Good morning, Miss O’Grady,” he said with a wide smile.

     “Good morning and good-bye.” She resumed drinking her coffee.

     “I’ve been peeking in store windows looking for the prettiest girl in town. I finally found her. May I join you?”

     She glanced up at him. “Did I ever mention I can’t abide cheery people in the morning until at least my second cup of coffee?”

     He removed his hat, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “And how many cups have you had?”

     “Only one.”

     He motioned to the nearby waiter.

     “Pop said you left early,” she said, after the waiter refilled her cup.

     “I’m an early riser.”

     “I usually am, too. I don’t know what got into me,” she said.

     He leaned back in the chair and stared at her.

     Finally she sighed and put down the cup. “Okay, what’s on your mind, Fraser?”

     “I was thinking how cute you look this morning.”

     “Cute?” She laughed infectiously. “Nobody’s called me cute since my mother died. Don’t tell me that line worked for you before, Fraser?”

     “Well, how else would I describe you? Curls the color of cornsilk, eyes as blue as a summer sky, and cheeks as rosy as a ...ah...”

     “Rose,” she gibed. “Please, Fraser, I just ate; give me a chance to digest my food.”

     “You feel like taking a walk, Rory?”

     “Where to?”

     “Some peaceful place where we can be alone.”

     She arched a curved brow. “And you only have talking in mind?”

     “Why would you doubt it? I do have talking in mind, but since I met you, I’ll admit I always have another thought on my mind. Afraid to take the risk?”

     Despite her common sense, Rory was flattered by his continued attraction for her. And since she enjoyed his company, she felt confident enough to be reckless when she saw the challenge in his brown eyes.

     “I know just the place,” she said.

     She led him to a shaded hillside overlooking the ocean, deserted except for some seagulls sunning themselves on the rocks below. They sat down and for a long moment gazed at the waves crashing against the rocks.

     “It’s nice here,” he said. “Kind of as if you’re in a different world, isn’t it?”

     “I discovered it a couple weeks ago,” Rory said. “I come here every day now to escape for a few hours. Just the seagulls, the ocean, and me.”

     He stretched out and tucked his hands under his head. “Do you ever plan on settling down, Rory?”

     “Certainly. And I hope it will be sooner, rather than later. But I don’t think I’ll be that lucky. What about you?”

     “Much later, rather than sooner. I’m just getting started,” he said. “Where are you planning on going when you leave here?”

     She gazed pensively at the blue waters of the Pacific. “Wherever the road leads, I guess. Do you have a wife or sweetheart waiting for you back in Virginia?”

     “No wife. No sweetheart. I never came near to wanting either. Now the war’s over, my folks are gone, and my brothers and sister have gotten on with their lives, so now I can get on with mine. What about you, Rory? Ever been married or in love?”

     “No.”

     “How long do you expect to move around with your father?”

     “I always figured on doing so until something or someone came along that appealed to me more. That hasn’t happened yet, so I’ll stick with Pop until it does. He and I get along well, and we’re both pretty much our own person.” Her eyes danced with deviltry. “Although he does accuse me at times of being as bossy as my maternal grandmother.”

     “What happens if you fall in love, or get married?”

     “Then I guess we’d have to go our separate ways, because I doubt a husband would want him to live with us, any more than Pop would be willing to give up his wandering ways. He’s a nomad at heart—and very set in his ways. I love him dearly, though, and his illness really has me scared. I wish he would decide to settle down, but it’s not his nature. Whatever you do, don’t mention your gold mine to him, or he’ll grab a pick and be off with you. You’re both dreamers.”

     He sat up and she sensed what he was about to say. Before he could, she said, “So, you’re getting ready to leave. Today or tomorrow?”

     “Tomorrow morning.”

     “I could tell you were holding back something you didn’t want to tell me. Why not? For the past two nights, I’ve been telling you to get out of this town. As soon as Pop gets his strength back we’ll be saying good-bye to this place, too, and believe me, it will be the happiest day of my life.”

     “I hate to say good-bye to you, Rory.”

     She forced a smile. “You’d have to sometime anyway, so better sooner than later. Besides, you’re not going to find gold in this town.”

     “How can you be sure? I might be looking at it right now.”

     Her eyes flashed with amusement. “Those are pretty sweet words, Garth Fraser, but I’m still not going to go to bed with you.”

     “I’m not saying it just to get you into bed, Rory; I mean what I said. There’s something very different about you from the other girls I’ve met in saloons. And even though we’ve known each other for just a short time, I want you to know you can always count on me as a friend.”

     “Although I believe you’re sincere, Garth, I think some of what you feel is more gratitude than friendship.”

     He picked up her hand and clasped it between his own. “Of course I’m grateful to you; you saved my life. But I meant what I said. As much as I want you physically, I want you as a friend just as much.”

     She laughed lightly. “So that’s why you went upstairs with Shelia.”

     “Will you forget that, please? My brain was between my legs, Rory.”

     “I already figured that out—and it still is.” She slipped her hand out of his.

     Garth clutched his hands to his chest dramatically. “You wound me, lady. It’s my heart that I’m thinking with now. Surely you must have a soft spot for me. How can you just say good-bye and that’s the end of it, when you know how much I want to make love to you?”

     “Some good-byes are more painful than others, and I admit I’ve come to like you very much—but I have no intention of letting you make love to me. So please don’t make this any harder than it is.”

     He threw his hands up hopelessly. “Okay, I admit it. I had a score to settle with Bates and Skull and some unfinished business with you. So I sure wasn’t going to run away. There’s no doubt they’re gone now; and try as I might, it looks like I’m not getting anywhere with you, either—so I guess I have no excuse to hang around any longer. But I expect to have the last laugh, when I hit my strike and split it with you for saving my life.”

     “And just how do you expect to find me if you do?”

     “Not if, when. I’ll be so rich then, I’ll be able to put a dozen bloodhounds to sniffing your trail.”

     She laughed gaily. “Well, I’ll look forward to it. And you surprise me, Mr. Fraser. I didn’t expect you to surrender so easily.”

     He rolled over on his side and pulled her down beside him. “Lady, if you’re flirting with me, I could read a lot into that statement.”

     “Such as?” she asked, with a coquettish toss of her head.

     Lying back, he pulled her across him and searched her face with a seductive gaze. “Like I said, we’ve some unfinished business, Rory O’Grady. And I’ll find you again wherever you go.”

     “Even when you’re as rich as Croesus,” she teased.

     “Richer,” he murmured.

     “You are making this good-bye painful,” she whispered. Dipping her head, she kissed him.

     “Oh God, baby,” Garth murmured, when she broke the kiss and raised her head. He slipped his hands into her hair and pulled her back.

     “Don’t get your hopes too high, because it won’t do you any good. We’ve got company,” she said breathlessly. She nodded toward two children who had appeared on the top of the hillside above them.

     Garth sat up in disbelief. “Why, Lord? What did I ever do to deserve this?”

Excerpt from HIS BOOTS UNDER HER BED
© Ana Leigh, 2006 - All rights reserved
Pocket Star - a December 2006 Release
ISBN 0-743-46997-6
Order a Copy

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Excerpt from...
The Lawman Said "I Do"
book two in The Frasers series (Colt's story)
     by Ana Leigh

 

     Cassie decided to make her own departure as well, and rose to her feet. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Fraser."

     She had not taken more than two steps when he caught up with her. "Miss Braden, I think you shouldn’t attempt to walk. I insist upon driving you home."

     "That's really not necessary. My head is cleared now."

     "It’s settled. I owe you that for the inconvenience I've caused you."

     Nothing was settled as far as she was concerned. Particularly her climbing into a carriage with this persistent man.

     "Mr. Fraser—"

     "Colt," he corrected.

     "Ah, . . . Colt, the accident was my fault, as much as yours. It's not necessary for you to feel any obligation—"

     "The matter's settled." That forceful jaw she had rashly admired had settled into steadfast determination, and he grasped her elbow in a firm grip.

     Cassie soon found herself ensconced on the seat of the carriage. She felt more intimidated by this intimate proximity than she did by the size of him, even though he had to be several inches over six feet and almost 200 pounds of muscle and hard flesh. The pure male essence of the man was overpowering.

     He turned his head and studied her with a slow, sensual perusal.

     "Well?" he asked.

     "Well, what?" she challenged. Her belligerent tone dared him to make one suggestive remark. That's all she was waiting for; it would give her a good excuse to get out of the carriage.

     As if Colt had read her thoughts, he inquired in a concerned tone, "Feeling any better?"

     "I’m fine." Darn it, Cassie, why are you making a fool of yourself? "The pills helped," she added in a conciliatory tone.

     "I bet you haven't eaten any dinner."

     "You're right." Now tired and hungry, she realized the day had slipped away from her.

     "Well, bravo to you, Miss Braden. There’s nothing I admire as much as a good sport. To show you I’m the same, I’ll even let you pay for my dinner if you want to."

     She gulped in surprise. "Are you serious?"

     "Certainly. I’m very comfortable in my own skin, Miss Braden; I’ve got nothing to prove. That’s why firecracker females dressed in men’s clothing, bucking stallions, obnoxious children, and immature practical jokers don’t scare me."

     She couldn’t help matching his grin. He was the good sport he claimed to be. "Welcome to Arena Roja, Mr. Fraser. I’m glad we understand each other."

     His grin widened. "That we do."

     "I don’t think the town’s ever met anyone like you before."

     The room suddenly shrunk into an intimate corner booth that seemed to get even smaller when he leaned toward her and the full potency of his gaze focused on her.

     "Does that bother you, Teach?"

     She had backed herself into this corner, and she’d make the best of it.

     "I’d have to say Arena Roja is impressed. You appear to be a welcome fixture around here, Colt."

     It worked. He leaned back. "This is a small, friendly community."

     "But you’ve only been here for a day. You’ve hardly had a chance to get to know us."

     "Since I’m going to be the deputy for a week, I spent most of it meeting the local residents. I’ve always wanted to be a lawman, and this opportunity will give me some experience in upholding the peace in a quiet, little town."

     "The town’s not so quiet when the hands come in Saturday night. You’ll find that out on Saturday when they show up."

     "That’s even better. The experience will do me good."

     He raised his hand to attract Harry’s attention. "What would you like to drink? Wine? Perhaps a cordial?"

     "Nothing for me, thank you. But don’t let that stop you from having whatever you want."

     He ordered a glass of beer, then studied her like a cat eyeing a bowl of cream.

     She was certain he hadn’t invited her to dinner just out of the goodness of his heart! If he was looking for a "good time" girl, he was in for a big disappointment.

    "Deputy, I hope you understand there are no strings attached to this dinner."

    "Doggone it! I was hoping you had an ulterior motive."

    "Very funny, Deputy Fraser."

    Colt picked up her left hand in a warm grasp, and her pulses leapt to the touch. "I’m glad to see that there’s no ring on this hand, though."

    "I am engaged." She quickly withdrew her hand from his.

    "Really? Where’s the lucky man hiding?"

    "He hasn’t returned from the war yet."

    With an amicable grin, he leaned back again. "His loss is my gain, because engaged or not, I'm enjoying the company."

    She soon discovered he was a delightful conversationalist and listened to his amusing descriptions of the pitfalls to avoid when you’re too young to know what you’re doing, most of which he had committed.

    She found herself returning his entertaining chatter and disturbing grin with an amused chuckle or smile of her own.

    By the time coffee was served, a relaxed companionship had blossomed between them. Colt leaned closer.

    Cassie became very aware of the huskiness in his voice, of his head bent attentively above hers as they talked quietly, and the warm pressure of his thigh against her own.

    A long time had elapsed since she’d spent an evening with a man as attractive as Colt Fraser, and she felt a desire for him that she’d never felt for Ted. Yet she had only met this man the previous day!

    Alarmed by her secret thoughts, when he slipped his hand to her thigh, she snapped, "I'm an old-fashioned girl, Mr. Fraser."

    "What does that mean?"

    "It means I am not promiscuous.” Cassie lifted his hand off her leg.

    Weighing her through shuttered lids, he took a sip of coffee. "I'm impressed."

    She gave him a skeptical glance. "I just bet you are."

     "Why would you doubt it?"

     "Do you have any idea how many times some passing cowboy has tried to get me to climb into the hayloft with him? Why do you think I prefer to dress in men’s clothing?"

     Colt burst into laughter. "Are you saying that beneath that men’s shirt and pants lurks the heart of a frightened female?"

     The amusement she saw in his eyes was as compelling as his contagious laughter.

     "Hardly frightened," she countered good-naturedly. "Merely bored with men who think I can’t tell what their intentions are. For instance, yours."

     "Mine are clear, Miss Braden. I only have a week to get you into that hayloft before I leave town."

     "Then you’re squandering valuable time on me, Deputy. It would be better spent with one of the girls at the Alhambra." She stood up. "The dinner was delicious, but I must get back home."

     "Of course." He got to his feet and picked up the check.

     "We had an agreement. I’ll buy the dinner."

     "Next time."

     "What makes you think there’ll be a next time?" she asked.

     "You know as well as I that there will be, Cassie."

     "Is that a challenge?"

     "Honey, it’s been a challenge from the moment we looked at each other."

     He was right about that, she thought as he took her arm and they left.

     Once again the intimate confines of the carriage’s front seat made her disturbingly aware of him as he drove her home. There, he jumped off, lifted her down, and walked her to the porch.

     "I'll pick you up at eight o'clock for breakfast."

     Cassie didn’t want further contact with Colt Fraser; he was too dangerous. "That isn't necessary. I’ll be eating here with my sister."

     "She’s welcome to join us. Will you extend the invitation to her?"

     "Colt, I just told you I don’t intend to have breakfast with you."

     His deep-brown eyes locked with hers. "Do you really prefer that I don’t attempt to see you again? Why are you afraid, Cassie? Nothing’s going to happen between us unless you let it happen."

     "Why would you doubt it?"

     "Do you have any idea how many times some passing cowboy has tried to get me to climb into the hayloft with him? Why do you think I prefer to dress in men’s clothing?"

     Colt burst into laughter. "Are you saying that beneath that men’s shirt and pants lurks the heart of a frightened female?"

     The amusement she saw in his eyes was as compelling as his contagious laughter.

     "Hardly frightened," she countered good-naturedly. "Merely bored with men who think I can’t tell what their intentions are. For instance, yours."

     "Mine are clear, Miss Braden. I only have a week to get you into that hayloft before I leave town."

     The challenge again. "And you can be certain nothing will happen. I enjoy your company, Colt, but it would be wiser not to see you again."

     "Why?" he asked softly. "Is it me or yourself that you don’t trust?"

     He was too intuitive for his own good, but she refused to be intimidated by that dark-eyed gaze of his.

     "As I told you earlier, Colt, I’m engaged to another man."

     "So you are. You're also a very lovely and fascinating woman, Cassie Braden. I want very much to see you again."

     Mesmerized, she watched the slow, inexorable descent of his lips. He kissed her forehead—gently, tenderly and exquisitely excitingly, and then trailed light kisses down her cheek and claimed her lips.

     The kiss sent shivers of excitement to the pit of her stomach. All evening, with his head so close to hers, she’d wondered what his kiss would be like. Now she gave herself freely to the delicious sensation.

     "You really don’t want to say goodnight now, do you?" he whispered when it ended, his warm breath a tantalizing temptation at her ear.

     She was assailed with mixed feelings—anger toward him for being so aggressive and disgust with herself for allowing him to awaken desires that she had kept dormant for years.

     "I . . . ah . . . most definitely do. Thank you again for dinner. I hope the kiss was worth the cost of it."

     "I'll pick you up at eight o'clock on the dot."

     Maybe that cocky confidence of his worked with other women, but he was dead wrong if he thought his will was stronger than hers.

     "Good night, Colt."

     Cassie opened the door and went inside.

     Cathy was already asleep, so Cassie went to her own room. By rote, she got ready for bed. Every instinct she possessed warned her against Colt Fraser. Since Ted’s departure, she had found it easy to shun involvement with any other man—until now. She touched her lips, which still tingled from his kiss.

     Her attraction to Colt Fraser was a betrayal of her love for Ted.

     "And if I were ever to fall in love with someone else, it wouldn’t be a footloose womanizer like Colt Fraser."

     With that determination, Cassie closed her eyes.

 

Excerpt from THE LAWMAN SAID "I DO"
© Ana Leigh, 2005 - All rights reserved
Pocket Star - A January 2006 Release
ISBN 0-743-46996-8
Order a Copy

     Too excited to try to sleep a moment longer, Rebecca rose at four o’clock and peeked out the hotel window. Fires from a dozen blacksmiths’ forges blazed brightly, and the clanging of their hammers had sounded day and night from the time she’d arrived in Independence. Due to the wagon train’s departure, the hotel and general stores had remained open throughout the night for any necessary last-minute sales. She packed up her belongings and went down to the dining room.

     Rebecca had just finished eating when Clay and Garth came in. "Good morning," she said pleasantly.

     "Good morning, Becky," Garth replied, but Clay ignored her greeting. "All ready for the big day?"

     She smiled excitedly. "I’m about ready to burst at the seams."

     "I think we all are," he said. "Well, I promised to meet Scotty at the corral. I’ll see you later."

     "Why didn’t you wake us when you got up?" Clay asked, as he sat down.

     "I wasn’t aware waking you was my responsibility. I’m quite willing to cook your and Garth’s meals, but that’s where it begins and ends."

     "Your generosity is overwhelming, madam."

     She also needed to lay down one very important ground rule before the journey began.

     "Although it’s necessary to keep up an appearance of being newlyweds, that does not extend to sharing a bed together."

     Clay simply looked amused.

     Oh, the man was exasperating, but she had looked forward to this day too long to let him ruin it for her. She smiled sweetly at him. "Just so you understand, Clayton."

     He returned her false smile. "I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand, Rebecca. There are several obligations that go along with that marriage license you were so eager to . . . procure, one of which is conjugal rights. I intend to honor that obligation as well as my pledge to protect you."

     She stiffened. "I don’t require your protection any more than I need you in my bed."

     "You should have considered that before you took an oath to become my lawful wife."

     "Are you going back on your word, Clayton? We agreed to an annulment. If we become intimate, that would be an impossibility, and you know it."

     "The annulment was all your idea, Rebecca. I never agreed to any such arrangement. Through no desire on my part, we are lawfully husband and wife, and I honor any vow I make. So I intend to try and become a good husband to you, Rebecca, and I expect you to take your vow just as seriously. If you see that as a problem, dear wife, I’d advise you to think twice before we start this journey—because you will have to honor all a wife’s obligations."

     He stood up to leave. "I thought about this for a long time last night, Rebecca. I was damn angry over this trick you pulled, but after further thought, I came to the conclusion that this marriage might not be such a bad idea after all. A good-looking woman to cook my meals, wash my clothes, and warm my bed at night. Yep, it could make a long journey considerably more comfortable than I’d anticipated."

     "You southerners just can’t envision your lives without a slave, can you?" Rebecca was seething with anger, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words disturbed her.

     "You have about an hour to make up your mind, Mrs. Fraser."

     Oh, what a blackguard! How could Garth claim his brother was a fair and compassionate man? Clayton Fraser was a smug, arrogant despot.

     Well, he didn’t intimidate her. His honor! His oaths! His obligations! The man’s inflated opinion of himself was enough to turn her stomach. Well, he may have struck the first blow in this war between them, but the day hadn’t dawned when any Rebel secessionist could outmaneuver a born-and-bred Yankee like her!

 

Excerpt from THE FRASERS: CLAY
© Ana Leigh, 2004 - All rights reserved
Pocket Star - An April 2004 Release
ISBN 0-743-46994-1
Order a Copy

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