The Spitfire and Her Four Gunslingers
BookStrand
Hot, sizzling Menage
M/F/M/M/M
Mike McClure is a pistol-packin' spitfire who has been named for the son her father never had. When her father died in a range war, she inherited his ranch. Instead of dresses with bloomers and corsets, she wears tight jeans with a six gun strapped to her hip.
One day, a bleeding cowboy rides up to her house with a bullet in his shoulder. By the time she finds out that he is a notorious gunslinger, his whole gang is there. She has never seen such hot, sexy cowboys in her life, but she feels if she gives herself to them, it will be suicide. However, slowly Mike surrenders to their steamy seduction.
Can her love tame all four men, or will they forever be a group of hard-riding gunslingers dodging bullets and running from the law?
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STORY EXCERPT
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An immediate chill ran down her back when she saw the dustiest, dirtiest, and sexiest cowboys she'd ever seen gathered at her front door. The one in front was blond with a devil-may-care way about him. The two in back were darker. One had dimples and a real pretty boy smile, but the last was dark-skinned and dangerous looking. His eyes cut clear through her. He didn't smile, didn't have to. His movements made it clear that he owned the space he was in, and you didn't intrude unless you wanted a bloody ride to hell. He frightened Mike. They all did. They were tough looking hombres that dressed in black, the color of danger that lurked all around them.
"Hi, darlin," the one in front said while leanin' on the doorframe. "My name's Flash. We're here to see—"
"Come on in, Flash," Cayo said from the doorway of the bedroom.
Flash pushed his way in. "Hey, Cayo, how you doin'?" He indicated toward Mike. "Not bad from where I stand."
"Never mind that, why are you here so early?"
"Wasn't no use to wait. The posse quit about nightfall yesterday. I mean, if them blind bastards couldn't see our tracks in daylight, they sure as hell ain't gonna see 'em at night."
"Who was on watch?"
"Cheyenne, and you know how Indians are. They can spot a fly on a dead dog a mile away. Naw, I think they done give up on us."
"That's something, anyway."
Flash looked toward the stove. "That food smells mighty good. Any reason why we can't chow down?"
"Mike," Cayo said, "get the boys something to eat."
Mike looked over at him as if he'd just declared war with Russia. "Hey! I ain't waitin' on these gorillas. If they want food they can get it themselves!"
"Mike," Cayo said softly, "believe me. You don't want these boys bangin' around in your kitchen. By the time they got their food you wouldn't have a blessed thing left in one piece."
"Well…I guess you're right," she said while her gaze darted to one and then the other. When she finally stood and walked over to the stove the boys followed her with their hungry gazes.
* * * *
Cayo didn't miss their admiring glances and turned his attention to Mike. It didn't help any that her jeans were too tight, and her hair too red, and her lips too full, so he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for his boys to hear him. "Hands off, guys."
Mike turned around and said, "What?"
"I was just telling the guys who you were. By the way, Mike, this is Flash, Cheyenne and Midnight. Flash there has a fast draw, like lightnin' they say, and Cheyenne is a half breed. Midnight there saved my life one night in a barroom brawl, so we just kind of took him in."
As she looked at each one, she felt overwhelmed. They were easily the handsomest men, no, not men, outlaws. The dangerous, unapologetic outlaws she read about every day in her Ten Penny Novels. She wanted to run to the nearest neighbor for help, but instead she plopped their full plates on the table. "Sit down and eat, or you'll be sharin' your breakfast with Rosie, my pig."
"What's that I smell?" Flash said as she passed by him with a pot of coffee.
"Lye soap," she answered sarcastically as her gaze met Cayo's.
"I think Mike's got some lilacs in the window boxes."
Cheyenne turned and looked at her. "Say, what's this about your name?"
"My pa thought I was a boy."
Cheyenne snickered. "Whoa, I bet he was surprised."
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, her gaze cutting right though him. "I ain't laughin' about it."
Cheyenne's lustful gaze met hers and tangled. "I didn't mean no disrespect."
Suddenly it seemed as if no one else was in the room. His smile was gone from his face, but the lust in his eyes pulled her to him with an intimate power. She only pulled her gaze away to the sound of Cayo's voice.
"Cheyenne, that's enough. You boys hurry up and eat. We gotta figure out what we're gonna do."
Mike watched as they dug into their food, some wanting seconds. She kept busy ladling food and pouring coffee when she felt a hand creeping up her leg. Her eyes darted down to Flash and managed to give him a hard look.
He leaned close to her and gave a sniff. "I think that lilac smell is comin' from you, sweetheart. Always did like lilacs." With a strong grip, he squeezed her upper thigh.
She pretended to trip, and spilled coffee in his lap.
He jumped up and yelled. "Hell fire, witch, watch what you're doin'!"
"Sorry," she mumbled, but met his gaze with a defiant look, and a half smile.
As she walked away he grabbed the arm that held the coffee pot. "That half-baked apology sounded about as sincere as a grievin' undertaker at a five dollar funeral!"
"Careful," she said threateningly, "or I'll give you the rest of what I've got in the pot here." Stabbing him with a piercing look, she said, "Did that sound sincere enough for you?"
He quickly let go and turned to Cayo. "She's a little she-devil, that's what she is. She could've scalded me to death. Ain't you gonna do something?"
"Flash, it wouldn't have happened if you'd kept your f***in' hands to yourself. We don't have time for horseplay. We got business to take care of, so sit down and be quiet."
