The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress. Carol Finch

foot three inches of brawn and muscle, appealed to her in ways that baffled logical thinking. The hard, defined muscles of his chest, shoulders and belly drew her admiring gaze and held it fast.

      His Indian heritage was evident in his bronzed, angular face. With the growth of the dark beard, mustache and shaggy hair—not to mention his black shirt, buckskin breeches and moccasins that made him appear as wild and untamed as the rugged Rocky Mountains—he looked formidable.

      Yet none of that seemed to bother her because he was such a magnificent study of masculinity. His powerful physique suggested he had tested himself to the very limits of endurance time and again and that unwillingly impressed her.

      He possessed none of the sophisticated gestures or polished manners of the affluent. Come to think of it, that was a point in his favor. He was not particularly handsome, though who could tell with that wooly facial hair that concealed the sides of his face and his jaw. Striking was a better word to describe him, she decided.

      His large, almond-shaped eyes were the intense combination of green and gold. They were translucent, intelligent, alert and alive. Similar to the cougar she and her father had happened upon during one of their mountain excursions a dozen years earlier. The beast had watched them from an overhanging ledge, its gaze missing nothing in its surroundings. The great cat had intrigued Eva then, just as this man intrigued her now.

      “Well? What’s it gonna be?” he said, jostling her from her pensive thoughts. “In my bed or out the door?”

      “Neither,” she replied. “My sister fell for the wiles of a conniving swindler who professed his undying love and devotion. They were supposedly on their way to elope when he took a share of her inheritance and left her afoot. I want the bastard tracked down. I want the money returned to my sister and I want retribution for her humiliation and heartbreak.”

      Raven stood there, his hands on his lean hips, shaking his coal-black head. “No, I just returned from three hard weeks of tracking thieves. They shot my horse out from under me and I need time to train a dependable mount. Get someone else to help you.”

      “Then name someone reliable and trustworthy,” she demanded. “And he better be as good as you’re reported to be.”

      “There’s…” He paused, frowned then flicked his wrist dismissively. “No, he’s too trigger-happy. But you might try…” He shook his head again. “Never mind him. He’s a drunk.”

      Eva elevated her brow and stared pointedly at the whiskey bottle on the nightstand. “Seems to me that the pot is calling the kettle black.”

      “I’m lamenting the loss of a good horse and celebrating the end of three weeks of exhausting hell,” he defended righteously. “That’s different from a man who has whiskey for breakfast, lunch, supper and a bedtime snack.”

      Eva crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. “Who then, if not you?”

      Raven raked his hand through his long hair then shrugged impossibly broad shoulders. “Try the Rocky Mountain Detective Agency.”

      “That is not an option,” she said in no uncertain terms.

      He studied her curiously. “Why not?”

      She refused to meet his green-gold eyes and stared over his wide shoulders. “I have my reasons. I want you and apparently you can’t think of anyone good enough, either, so it’s settled. We will leave in the morning and I’ll pay you half your fee then. You’ll receive the second half when the fugitive is brought to justice.”

      “We?” He barked a laugh. “That wouldn’t happen. If by some remote chance it did, it would cost you double because I’d have to babysit a tenderfoot sissy like you. No thanks. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

      Frustrated, Eva stamped her foot. “You are exasperating and infuriating!” she muttered.

      He flashed a mischievous grin. “Part of my charm.”

      “Charm?” She scoffed as she raked him up and down, trying exceptionally hard not to become sidetracked by his rippling muscles and bronzed flesh. Not to mention those fascinating eyes and the seductive gap at the waistband of his breeches. Try as she may, she couldn’t keep her gaze from straying to the dark furring of hair that disappeared into his buckskin breeches.

      He unstrapped the dagger tied to his thigh and tossed it on the nightstand. She watched him cautiously, wondering if he was going to drop his breeches in front of her, wondering how she was going to react to seeing her first naked man.

      Despite her bravado, the only person she had seen naked was herself and she didn’t think it was going to be at all the same.

      “I’m not taking your case,” he declared as he heeled off his moccasins. “I’m going to bed because I’m about as worn out as a man can get. So take a hike.” He bent at the waist to untie his leather leggings. “I’m through talking to you.”

      Eva noticed the scars on his muscled back. Two long, deep strips of discolored skin resembled claw marks. The other scars must have come from a whip, she speculated. It left her to wonder at the torture he’d endured as he passed back and forth between Cheyenne and white culture.

      Her thoughts scattered like buckshot when he did the unthinkable and shoved his breeches down his lean hips. Her face went up in flames and she whirled away before he disrobed completely and she received an education she hadn’t anticipated.

      She heard the low rumble of his chuckle as she faced the wall. The bedsprings squeaked, assuring her that he had sprawled out. She hoped he had covered the lower half of his torso with the sheet and bedspread. But no matter what, she wasn’t going to allow this contrary rascal to get the best of her. She had made a pact with herself three years ago that no man would ever put her at a disadvantage again.

      Drawing herself up to full stature, she gathered her courage and spun around. She was greatly relieved that he had covered his torso with the sheet. Even as he reached for the whiskey bottle, she noticed the look of surprise on his rugged face. Clearly, he thought she’d bolt and run.

      “You can try to dismiss me, but you haven’t seen the last of me, J. D. Raven,” she assured him.

      He settled back against his pillow and cushioned his head on his linked hands. Muscles rippled over his arms and down his washboard belly. “Thanks for the warning, sugar.” He took a swig of whiskey. “This is your last chance to climb in bed with me.”

      “Thank you but no. I also sleep naked and I’d likely be cold because you probably pull covers,” she countered sassily before she turned to leave.

      “We won’t need covers for what I have in mind,” he drawled suggestively. “And I have every intention of warming you up, sweetheart.”

      Eva flashed him a go-to-hell glare as she swooped down to retrieve her discarded hat. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob—and wished it was his throat. He tossed her another scampish grin and waggled his eyebrows.

      J. D. Raven might have won this skirmish but she wasn’t one to give up easily. This bounty hunter and legendary gunfighter was exactly the kind of man she wanted to track down Gordon Carter. She wasn’t taking no for an answer and that was that. All she had to do was sit herself down and figure out how to convince Raven to take this assignment, for which she would pay him a premium.

      Eva pulled her hat down to shield her face then descended the steps. She detoured over to pay the hotel clerk for Raven’s rented room before she exited. Raven didn’t know it yet but he was on her payroll—starting now.

      

      “Where have you been?” Lydia questioned the moment Eva strode past the bedroom suite.

      “I’m in the process of making arrangements to hire a highly trained bounty hunter to track down Gordon,” she reported as she came to stand beside Lydia’s canopy bed.

      Lydia blinked her dark eyes. “My goodness. Already?”

      “Well,