in the bed before he thought about food. He needed a woman right now. He needed her desperately.
The fire was burning low when he entered, and the lamp wasn't lit. A pot of something simmered over the embers, and Peter remembered he had meant to buy her a stove. He would do that as soon as he got to town. His funds were nearly nonexistent after putting the down payment on the mountain and leaving some for Townsend, but he could get by without money. Catalina ought to have the best. He would dress her in silk once they owned the mountain.
She must be in the bedroom. The door was closed, but he could hear movement. Perhaps she had seen him coming and was putting on clean sheets. That thought made him randier than hell. He hadn't seen clean sheets in six months, since he'd been here last.
He ought to take time to bathe, but he couldn't. She'd have to take him as he was right now. He'd do things properly later, when he proposed. He should have done that long ago, but a wife hadn't been one of those things he had considered back then. He was considering it now.
The last rays of the setting sun filtered through the bedroom window when Peter threw open the door. The rosy haze befuddled his eyes a moment as he stood there in the doorway, expecting Catalina to turn and throw herself at him. A movement from the bed brought his gaze into better focus.
Catalina was there, buck naked against those sheets he'd just been imagining. And so was the rancher he'd called neighbor, equally naked and on top of her.
The man turned his head and looked over his shoulder, paling with recognition. His gaze dropped in terror at the sight of Peter's hand going to his holster.
With only a grim smile, Mulloney dropped his grip on the gun and politely tugged at his hat. "Good to see you again, Roger, Catalina. Just stopped by to tell you I'm heading for Texas and won't be through here anytime soon. If you hear of any buyers for the land, drop a line to my box in town."
He turned on the heel of his worn but expensive boots and walked away.
Texas Moon
Too Hard To Handle
Book Four
by
Patricia Rice
~
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Texas Moon
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TEXAS ROSE
Too Hard To Handle
Book Two
Excerpt from
Texas Rose
Too Hard to Handle
Book Two
by
Patricia Rice
New York Times Bestselling Author
TEXAS ROSE
Awards & Reviews
4 ½ Stars – Romantic Times
~
"A special gift of love and laughter."
~Joan Hammond, Romantic Times
"Excuse me, gentlemen. I am looking for Pecos Martin. Is he here?"
The drawn shutters of the gambling hall turned the late afternoon sun into dusk. Smoke curled in the murky air, giving the room an atmosphere resembling the first circle of hell. Engrossed in their various card games, few of the occupants paid much attention to the vision in the open door.
And there was no doubt that she was a vision. With the sunlight for a backdrop, her chestnut hair glowed almost auburn. Arranged in thick, loose folds at the back of her head and topped by an incongruously tiny green velvet and lace hat, her hair rivaled the setting sun outside. The features beneath the thick waves of chestnut were not distinguishable in the gloom, but they appeared to be of the delicate cream and evenness that were fashionable. Perhaps the eyes were larger and darker than customary, having a certain exotic slant, but the clientele in this room weren't connoisseurs of fashion.
So the exquisite walking gown of green foulard adorned with yards of ruching and topped with a darker green fitted bodice went unrewarded by her audience. Only one head lifted in this sea of male attire, and the vision breathed an almost audible sigh of relief as her glance found him.
Surrounded by men in dark top coats, grubby sack coats, and black hats, this one man alone wore buff linen. His frock coat fitted snuggly to wide shoulders, and his starched white collar contrasted nicely with the golden-brown of his coloring.
Evie felt a swell of reassurance at his appearance. This had to be the man she was looking for. Of course, he was much younger than she had expected. A man who had done everything that Pecos Martin had done should be older and grizzled and weather-beaten. She had expected one of the derelicts in shirtsleeves and vest with three-day's