Читать книгу Desert Heat - Kathleen Pickering - Страница 3

Tico lay with his eyes closed, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.

Meg Flores’s laughter mingled with her teammates’, penetrating his mind like a double shot of whiskey. If she spoke the same way she laughed, the woman had one sexy voice.

His senses homed in on the sound of footsteps coming toward him. A cowboy boot stride with attitude. He’d bet a month’s pay he knew who the boots belonged to. Wondering if she’d act the part of rescuer, he kept his eyes shut. All hope was dashed when, still chuckling, she whispered to his horse, “Good job for throwing this bozo, fella.”

He opened his eyes in time to see the sole of a cowboy boot press down on his chest. The curious stare of one Meg Flores flattened him more than he already was. Damn, she was smoking-hot! The reins dangled from her right hand. Diablo glared at him from over her shoulder.

Traitor horse.

“Can I get you a taxi back to New York, Detective?”