Give Me A Texan
No Time For Love
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Quinten stirred and the moonlight gave his dark hair a silvery sheen. His broad shoulders remained squared, as he leaned against the post, gold fob glittering. Turning slightly, he exposed a strong, well-defined profile that any woman wouldn't mind waking up to.
Entranced by the unspoken sadness of his face, Kaira stood silently. An air of isolation punctuated the man's loneliness.
As though sensing her presence, his gaze shifted toward the window.
A vaguely sensuous light passed between them. Hastily she retreated. Hopefully out of his view, she clutched the lacy neck of her embroidered satin gown.
Her curiosity had been aroused; she stepped closer and peeped through the glass.
He was gone.
What was wrong with her? Quinten Corbett radiated a vitality that seemed to rock the ground beneath her, disturbing her in ways she didn't think possible.
Moments later, Kaira eased between the sheets and pulled the still warm bedding up to her chin. Visions of the good-looking editor played before her eyes, as she fought sleep. Sleep that would surely evolve into dreams worthy of the pages of a best-selling dime novel.
This man, the subject of her very wicked thoughts, had to be more complex than he first appeared. Tough, lean, and powerful, an almost stereotypical dime novel hero, and she had to impress him. But how?
She thought back over the days she'd been in Amarillo. Quinten obviously lived and breathed the newspaper, but was more cattleman than editor. If only she had paid more attention to her family's companies. In reality, she had no desire to be a part of their world. Kaira had little talent in publishing that would impress the likes of Mr. Corbett.
Kaira needed to get on his good side--surely he had one--and what better way than to scoop an interview with one of the most famous gunslingers of the West.
Now, where would a lady find a gambler?