Cactus Flower by Alice Duncan Read Free Book Online

him. Seduction, if it had to come at all, would
come later. Eulalie planned to try every way she could think of to avoid
it first.
           “Well?”
she said, to encourage him.
           He
straightened and took a step toward her. “Turn around.” It was a
command.
           Eulalie
obliged, although she still eyed him over her shoulder. She was glad
to see he had to lick his lips again. “I’m sure you’ve had experience
lacing up ladies’ undergarments, Mr. Taggart.” She made her voice
go sultry. “And in unlacing them.”
           “I’ve
had experience.” He didn’t elaborate.
           And
then he touched her. Eulalie had prepared herself for at least a thousand
contingencies before she’d set out for New Mexico Territory. She and
Patsy had entered into this phase of their lives with their eyes wide
open and with full knowledge of what they might have to do in order
to escape from Chicago with their skins intact.
           The
one thing they hadn’t prepared for was Eulalie’s reaction to the
physical sensation of Nick Taggart’s hands on her bare flesh. She
very nearly swooned on the spot.
           Good
Lord, this was terrible. She’d never had this reaction to a man’s
touch before. Perhaps it was merely because she was exhausted after
enduring a long, tiring trip, awful worry, terrifying stress, a full
day fraught with lumbering polka dancers and drunken louts, and her
first performance in a strange and alien and half-civilized place. Not
to mention near starvation.
           Whatever
the reason for it, she felt a tingling, goose-fleshy sensation spread
over her skin as soon as Nick Taggart’s large, rough hands brushed
her shoulders. She gasped slightly, and barely thought fast enough to
turn her gasp into a cough.
           He
smoothed his hands down her arms. He shouldn’t be doing that. Even
in its present scrambled condition, her brain knew that much. Eulalie
opened her mouth to tell him so, but couldn’t get the words out.
           Good
heavens, this was awful. She was the one who was supposed to be in control
of this situation, not Nick Taggart. Nick Taggart was a rough-hewn man
of the territories and, therefore, beneath Eulalie Gibb’s contempt.
She was a sophisticated actress; he was a lout. She, not he, was supposed
to maintain the upper hand in any potential sexual dalliance.
           So
why, when his arms went around her, did she not resist? Why, when his
fingers closed over hers and he pulled the corset away from her breasts,
did she not utter a sharp protest, using the acid tongue for which she
was justifiably famous in some circles? Why, when his hands covered
her breasts and he gently squeezed them, brushing his thumbs over her
puckered nipples, did she go weak in the knees?
           “You
want me to do what?” His voice was like roughened velvet. He drew
her to him until her bare back rested against his chest and her bottom
pressed against his thighs. He was fully aroused, hard as an oak log,
and almost as big.
           Eulalie,
who had been fighting awful battles all by herself for a very long time,
experienced a fierce desire to turn in his arms and have him hold her.
She wanted to rub the juncture of her thighs against the bulge in his
trousers.
           No,
no, no . This was not the way things were supposed to proceed. She
had Patsy to think of.
           “If
you will please unhand me, sir, I believe you’ve made my corset fall
to the floor.” Eulalie was more proud of the tone she achieved—ironic
and slightly humorous—than she was of anything else she’d done all
day.
           She
felt his hot breath on her neck a second before his lips touched the
skin of her shoulder. Oh, Lord. Oh, Lord . Eulalie’s sexual
experience was not vast, but just then she felt an intense desire to
allow Nick Taggart to broaden her