Free Cactus Flower by Alice Duncan Page A

leaned the back against the wall, and tried to catch a nap. It was a
difficult thing to do, and not merely because the chair didn’t make
a very good bed. Nick was annoyed with himself because he couldn’t
get Eulalie Gibb out of his mind. Actually, it wasn’t his mind that
was affected, damn it. And there wasn’t a blasted thing he could do
about his state of sustained arousal, either, because he’d been a
fool and told Dooley he’d protect the new merchandise.
           Nick
couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone and done something so damned
stupid.
           “Hey,
Nick,” came a whisper from out of the dark. “How’s about you let
me see that little gal for a minute or two.”
           Sighing,
Nick let the front legs of his chair down, stood, and dealt with another
fellow too stupid—or too titillated—to take no for an answer.
           *
* * * *
           Since
Eulalie couldn’t think of a good reason not to, and she also had ulterior
motives, she adopted a cheerful expression when she prepared to leave
her room the next morning, praying she’d be able to find another place
to stay, and the sooner the better.
           Therefore,
she dressed with care, selecting a sober gray gown and pinned a lovely
confection of a hat onto her hair. Because she’d read that parasols
were a necessity to a lady’s complexion here in the territory, she
picked hers up and hung it over her arm. Pausing at the door, she sucked
in a deep breath and prepared to greet the day—and whatever else lay
in wait to pounce on her out there in the world.
           As
she had anticipated, what lay in wait for her was Nick Taggart, leaning
back in a hard-backed chair, heavy-eyed, cranky, with his arms folded
over his chest, dark stubble decorating his chin, and a frown on his
face that made him look as if he’d welcome the opportunity to pounce
on someone, most likely her. Eulalie gazed upon him in dismay. If he
was as crabby as he looked, her ulterior motive might be difficult to
achieve. Nick gazed back at her with antipathy.
           “Oh,
my, Mr. Taggart, you look as if you didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
           “I
wonder why,” he growled.
           Eulalie
felt her lips tighten and endeavored to retain her smile. “I’m very
sorry you had such a disagreeable night. Perhaps if you will be kind
enough to introduce me to the lady whom you mentioned yesterday, I might
make more suitable arrangements for my lodging.”
           “Huh.”
The front legs of the chair Nick had been sitting in thumped on the
floor, and he rose, frowning magnificently. Slamming his hat on his
dark hair, which was mussed this morning, probably because of his disturbed
night, he said, “Yeah, I’ll take you there right now,” and held
his arm out to indicate the direction in which he expected her to walk.
           If
Eulalie had not exactly forgotten overnight what a splendid specimen
of masculinity Nick Taggart was, the reality of him made the breath
catch in her throat. She didn’t approve of this reaction, and she
frantically tried to recall Edward’s classical features to her mind’s
eye. She failed, although she did manage to suppress her urge to rise
up on her toes, remove Nick’s hat from his head, and run her fingers
through his tumbled locks.
           She
was only suffering from fatigue, she told herself, although she suspected
she might be a victim of self-deception. She suppressed a sigh, “Did
you say this woman’s name is Johnson?”
           “Yeah.”
           Eulalie
took another deep breath and tried again. “Thank you for guarding
my door last night, Mr. Taggart.”
           “Yeah,”
he said. “Sure.”
           He
was making it very difficult for her to engage him in polite conversation.
She thought perhaps he’d appreciate a bit of humor. “Did you have
to throw anyone