Fire Brand by Diana Palmer Page B

sure do know a lot about where you live,” Ned commented.
    â€œOh, we haven’t started yet.” Aggie smiled. “We’ll have to take you out on the reservation and show you the White Dove of the Desert—the San Xavier Mission—and buy you some Papago fry bread and take you through the Saguaro National Monument and out to Old Tucson where they make Western movies.”
    â€œAnd that’s only the tip of the iceberg,” Gaby added as they walked toward the fence. “You could stay busy for weeks and still not see half the sights. Tombstone is just a few minutes down the road, and it’s a must-see.”
    â€œWill it spoil your day if I tell you I’ve been there?” Ned chuckled. “When I was a boy, it was the dream of my life to stand where the Earps did. I spent a week in Tombstone when I was in my twenties, and I’ve never forgotten a thing about it.”
    â€œSo this isn’t your first time in Arizona?” Bowie asked as he bent his head to light a cigarette. He was bareheaded, and the sun burnished his blond hair like a halo.
    â€œNot hardly,” Ned returned, his eyes secretly amused.
    â€œIt’s heating up,” Gaby remarked, “and I came out without my hat.”
    â€œSo did we all,” Bowie agreed. His eyes slid over Gaby’s face. “You’re asking for sunstroke,” he mused.
    â€œI’ll have company,” she said with a pointed look at his thick hair.
    He smiled faintly. “I guess so.” He held out his hand and waited until she put hers into it, oblivious of Aggie’s surveying gaze.
    He drew her along with him, leaving Aggie and her Wyoming man to follow slowly behind them. Bowie’s eyes were brooding as they went back through the wrought-iron gate toward the porch.
    â€œDon’t spoil it for her,” she whispered.
    He glanced down. “Honey, I’m not going to spoil anything. I just want to be sure of my ground. He’s hiding something. I can feel it, can’t you?”
    She moved restlessly. “Yes.”
    â€œLet’s find out what before we join his fan club.”
    She sighed, her slender hand moving closer into his. “Okay.”
    He tugged her close for an instant, his eyes kindling as he looked down at her. “You feel it, don’t you, Gaby?” he asked, his voice deep and rough. “Fires, building between us.”
    Her lips parted. “Don’t...don’t rush me.”
    â€œI won’t.” He searched her eyes slowly, and let his fingers curl into hers. “You’re a virgin, Gaby,” he said softly. “You tell me if I’d expect you to climb into my bed like some casual conquest.”
    She let her eyes slide to his chest as she pondered that. “No,” she said at last. “You wouldn’t.”
    â€œSo, no pressure. No underhanded tactics. Most of all, no seduction.” He pinched her fingers gently to bring her eyes jumping up to his. “That works both ways. You have a way of looking at me lately that stirs me.”
    Her face did a slow burn as she remembered just how she’d looked at him earlier, in the shower room.
    â€œThat wasn’t what I meant,” he murmured with dry perception. “I mean the way you stare at my mouth, or didn’t you think I’d noticed?”
    Her breath sighed out through her teeth. “Sorry.”
    â€œDon’t be.” He smoothed over the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’m just as curious about you that way as you are about me. In point of fact, Gaby,” he added slowly, searching her eyes, “I’d like to pin you to the wall with my body right now and kiss you until your knees buckle.”
    Her eyes lifted with faint surprise, reading the frank hunger in his eyes. His words allowed her to paint a mental picture that was graphic and exciting—Bowie’s big, lean body crushing down against her breasts and hips