Desperado Read Online Free PDF

she’d married a man she hardly knew, a much-older man, and been married and widowed in weeks. She never spoke of her husband. She was job-oriented and somber as a judge usually. Even a brief engagement to his friend Eb Scott hadn’t really softened her much, long before her marriage to Evans. He’d wondered at the outward distance she seemed to keep from Eb. It hadn’t made sense, until later, when he understood the magnitude of his misconceptions about her.
    She looked so fragile, so vulnerable, lying there. Even in sleep, she looked tormented. She looked tired. No wonder. Flying all the way from Morocco without a pause, and then out to his ranch only to be turned away practically at the door. He hadn’t even asked if she had a way back to town. That was harsh. Even for him.
    He hesitated for an instant before he reached out and touched her arm through the cotton fabric that concealed it.
     
    Maggie was dreaming. She was walking through a field of wildflowers in the sun. In the distance, a man was laughing, holding out his arms to her—a tall, dark-haired man. She ran toward him, ran as fast as she could, but she never closed thedistance. He watched her from afar, like a cat toying with a desperate mouse. Cord, she thought. It was Cord, and he was taunting her as he always had. She could hear his voice, hear it as clearly as if it were in the room with her…
    A hand was shaking her, hard. She moaned in protest. She didn’t want to wake up. If she woke up, Cord wouldn’t be there anymore.
    “Maggie!” came the deep, insistent voice.
    She gasped and opened her eyes. She wasn’t dreaming. Cord was sitting on the edge of her bed, one lean hand beside her head on the pillow supporting his leaning posture.
    He studied her face, devoid of makeup, framed by long, wavy dark hair in soft tangles. She was wearing pajamas, a jacket and pants that covered her up completely. It used to puzzle him that Maggie dressed in a luxurious but conventional style to go to work, and she slept in the most unisex clothing she could find. She never wore sexy clothes, even when she’d been a teenager, and she never walked around in her nightclothes, even when she was little and they were living with Mrs. Barton. He wondered why he’d never noticed that before.
    She focused on him and her face clenched. “What are you doing here?”
    He grimaced. “Field-dressing crow. I’m sure it’ll taste terrible, too.”
    Her eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
    He shrugged one powerful shoulder. He didn’t like admitting his faults, but he owed her. “I didn’t know you were in Morocco. I thought you were right here in Houston, and that you’d waited four days to drive out to see about me.”
    Her heart ran wild. Cord had never explained anything to her. Over the years, she’d become accustomed to his barbed remarks, his hostility, his sarcasm. He’d never apologized or shown any signs of caring what she thought about him.
    Her eyes drank in his strong, handsome face. “Maybe I’m still asleep,” she murmured.
    “Pity,” he said, studying her drowsy face with a faint smile. “I don’t apologize very often.”
    She watched him. “You didn’t tell Eb you wanted me to come at all, did you?”
    He hated to admit that. She looked as cynical as he usually did. But he wasn’t accustomed to lies. “No,” he replied honestly.
    She laughed ruefully. “I should have known that.”
    “Why were you going to work in Qawi?” he asked abruptly.
    “I was in a rut,” she said simply. “I needed a change. I wanted adventure.”
    “You lost your job because of me,” he persisted, frowning.
    “Big deal! There are jobs everywhere, and I have a good background in investments. I’ll find something. Preferably,” she added teasingly, “in a multinational corporation, so that I can work overseas and never get in your hair again.”
    “Why do you want to leave the country?” he asked irritably.
    “What is there for me here?” she countered