William Coulter is the only man Rebecca Gilmore ever loved, the one she allowed to tear her heart apart years ago. Here he is again as large in life as he's been in her memories. And he's interfering big-time with her attempts to help her fugitive client. Not to mention making her hot as a firecracker all over again.
Will the Marshal win back the trust of the fiery P.I. he lost eleven years ago? Or will she castrate him at high noon?
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|Publisher:||The Wild Rose Press|
|Product dimensions:||5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.50(d)|
Read an Excerpt
Marshal William Coulter stood with the sun to his back, his feet spread, arms motionless at his sides. The only indication he was on high alert was the twitch of his index finger inches from his carved ivory gun handle.
Fifty paces away, facing into the sun, stood the Cincinnati Kid. The black hat obscured the Kid's hard features. But underneath those shadows, the Marshal knew the piercing dark eyes were on him.
It was do or die. Him or the Kid. Justice or Evil. The clock was ticking. In seconds, one of them would be dead. He hardly breathed, waiting.
The first melodious chime wafted through the air. He snapped the gun from his holster and fired all six shots.
The smell of sulfur hung heavy in the air. Through the haze, the Cincinnati Kid still stood, gun in hand, a triumphant grin twisting those granite features.
"You were supposed to die!" Billy exclaimed. He kicked the spent caps in the dust. "This is High Noon and you were supposed to die!"
"Well, it's not high noon. It's six o'clock. And I didn't feel like dying. Why am I always supposed to die?" Rebecca Gilmore slammed her pistol back in its holster, shoved the hat off her head, letting it dangle against her back, and glared at Billy.
"That's cuz guys are smarter and faster than girls."