Longarm and the War Clouds by Tabor Evans Page A

this embarrassing,” she said, chuckling naughtily. “I just got caught spying on a U.S. marshal taking a bath in the privacy of his own guest quarters. Well, well—congratulations, Leslie. You might just get court-martialed for this one.”
    Longarm depressed his Colt’s hammer and lowered the piece. He didn’t bother covering himself. He’d been seen naked by enough women—and this one had already seen him naked through the window—that he was pretty much immune to it. Besides, she didn’t seem to mind.
    â€œMiss McPherson, I presume?”
    She smiled saucily, showing pretty, white teeth between her perfect lips. Her green eyes glimmered alluringly with each lightning flash out the windows behind her. “Marshal Long, I presume?”
    Her eyes flicked unabashedly to his cock before returning to his eyes. “Out of Denver’s First District Court? One of the two men sent to rescue my sister from that red demon up in the Shadow Montañas?”
    â€œOne and the same,” Longarm said.
    Since she was so free with her own gaze, he let his own eyes swallow her whole. Despite the umbrella, the rain had gotten to her. Her white blouse with its high neck, lace edges, and puffy sleeves, was pasted damply to her breasts, so that even through the blouse’s cotton and the chemise beneath the blouse he could see the outline of the rich, round orbs.
    As well as two pink nipples flattened against the material.
    She was a tall girl, with light red hair falling in delicate, silky waves to her shoulders. Sausage curls hung down the sides of her face, brushing her long, fine jaws.
    â€œWould you like a magnifying class?” the girl asked with more of a coquette’s lighthearted jeering than honest admonishment. “You might see more that way.”
    â€œI got a good imagination.”
    â€œYou must be conjuring something provocative.”
    Longarm glanced down past his belly. His dong was beginning to answer to the tingling that the well-turned girl had inflicted on his loins.
    His condition making him self-conscious, Longarm reached over to slide his revolver back into its holster, and then he lowered himself down into the tub and now-tepid water. “Were you lookin’ for shelter from the storm, Miss McPherson?” He smiled at the pretty girl. “Or you needin’ a bath?”

Chapter 12
    â€œDon’t tempt me,” Miss McPherson said, turning to close the door and glancing over her shoulder at Longarm. “But actually, Marshal . . .”
    â€œSince you’ve seen my birthday suit an’ all, you might as well call me Longarm.”
    â€œLongarm, eh?”
    â€œYou find somethin’ funny about that?”
    â€œOh, not at all!”
    She crossed her arms on her breasts and hiked a hip on the corner of the desk, to Longarm’s left. From there she had a pretty good view into the tub. Her eyes were like fingers, toying with him, subtly arousing him. He was glad there were still enough soap bubbles to hide the affected organ.
    â€œI don’t find anything one bit funny about attractive men, Marshal Long.”
    She glanced at the handful of three-for-a-nickel cheroots he’d laid out on the desk, and said, “Mind if I have one of your cigars here . . . Longarm?”
    â€œNot if you’ll light me one. Help yourself to the brandy, there, too. It’s from your brother-in-law.”
    â€œYes, I heard you cold-cocked him.”
    â€œYou seem to approve, Miss McPherson.”
    She was looking around for a glass and when she didn’t find one, Longarm held up his. “My lap’s as clean as your average cur’s.”
    â€œThank you.”
    She filled the glass, took a sip, and set the glass on the desk. “My brother-in-law has been needing a beating for a long time, Longarm. No one has seemed to be up to the task . . . until now. For that I applaud you. But to the