Longarm and the Dime Novelist Read Online Free PDF Page A

so that they were immune to the severe cold, but Longarm knew that would soon wear off. “Do you live far from here?”
    â€œNo. We’re almost there.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œYes,” she agreed. “I think we’re both ready for warmth and dessert.”
    â€œYou’re reading my mind, Miss Wilson.”
    â€œDelia . . . or Dakota, please.”
    â€œDelia,” he said as they turned up a walk toward a small mansion. Longarm stopped and studied the home. “Do you own this and live here all by yourself?”
    â€œYes, but even writing a dime novel a month doesn’t buy this kind of a house in this kind of a neighborhood.”
    â€œAnd you said you made more money than your father does as governor.”
    â€œThe money that bought this house and so many other things . . . since you’re obviously curious . . . comes from Philadelphia. You see, my mother inherited a fortune from my grandfather, who owned a railroad.”
    â€œDidn’t your mother pass away a few years ago?” Longarm asked as they neared the door.
    â€œThat’s right. She committed suicide.”
    Longarm was suddenly sober. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œIt was her choice,” Delia said, fitting a key into the door. “My father was cheating on her . . . he always cheated on my mother . . . and she drank heavily to drown her disappointment. And when the liquor wasn’t enough and the pain was too great, she took her own life.”
    â€œI didn’t know that.”
    â€œMy father made sure that the newspapers said that my mother didn’t die of a broken heart or of too much liquor but instead of a sudden coronary failure.”
    Longarm didn’t know what to say so he said nothing as they entered the home and Delia showed him some of the rooms before she led him to the bedroom.
    â€œCustis?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWhat I told you about my mother is known only by a very few people.”
    â€œI understand. I won’t say anything.”
    â€œI know that because I
trust
you,” Delia replied. “And having given you my trust of a very personal nature, I expect the same from you.”
    Longarm understood, and as he began to undress he decided that he was going to have his dessert and enjoy it, and he remembered an old adage . . . in for a penny, in for a pound. Well, by gawd, he was in for more than a pound and heaven help him if he was setting himself up for being the biggest fool in Colorado.

Chapter 4
    â€œWhat is that crazy contraption hanging from your bedroom ceiling?” Longarm asked as he undressed.
    â€œThere is nothing crazy about it,” Delia replied. “And before this night is over, you will think it is a fantastic invention.”
    â€œOh, yeah?”
    â€œYeah.” She kissed him. “Custis, I told you that I’m a very creative person. I designed that myself.”
    â€œIt looks like a child’s swing with stirrups.” Longarm finished undressing and went over to look at the thing. “How’s it work?”
    â€œYou’re about to find out,” Delia said. “But first, let’s get better acquainted in bed.”
    He turned away from the swing and took in a sharp breath. “My gawd, Delia, your body is a work of art.”
    She stood naked before him, a slight smile on her moist lips. “You’re not so bad as a sculpture yourself, but my oh my, you sure bear the scars of your profession. What happened here?” she asked, touching a long scar across his chest.
    â€œA knife wound. I cornered a half-breed down in El Paso. He had the fastest hands I ever saw on a man.”
    Delia kissed the scar, her hand dropping to cup his testicles. “Tell me more, big boy.”
    â€œNot much to say,” Longarm replied, feeling his manhood stiffening. “I went for my gun and he went for his knife and he was obviously