Tomorrow's Dreams by Heather Cullman Read Free Book Online Page A

completed, he jammed the nasty thing between his lips and leaned back in his chair, hoping that no one would notice that he hadn’t lit it. Nothing choked him quicker than the initial puff it took to make the tobacco catch the flame.
    But someone had noticed. No sooner was he settled than he heard a faint hiss and caught a whiff of sulfur mixed with cheap perfume. “Light your cigar, mister?” A moon-faced saloon girl with hair an improbable shade of blond leaned over his shoulder, holding out a lit match.
    Stifling his urge to groan aloud, Seth gave the girl his most charming grin and, against his better judgment, accepted the light. Manfully he inhaled, praying that he wouldn’t disgrace himself by collapsing in a hacking heap on the floor. Luck was with him and, aside from succumbing to one discreet cough, he managed to have the cigar lit with minimal embarrassment.
    Tucking a coin in the girl’s hand, Seth drawled. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
    She rubbed her breasts against his shoulder. “Desdemona.”
    â€œDesdemona?” He tossed Floyd a wry look.
    Floyd shrugged. “All the girls are named after Shakespeare’s ladies.” Counting them off on his fingers, he recited, “We got Juliet, Ophelia, Miranda, Titania, Portia, Jessica, Katharina, Cleopatra, Beatrice, Cordelia, Helena, and Hermia.” He looked puzzled and appeared to recount, his lips moving as he went over the names again. With a heavy sigh he added, “Oh, and Gladys.”
    â€œGladys?” Seth laughed as he extinguished his cigar with practiced stealth. “Can’t say as I’ve read that play.”
    â€œTried to call her Cassandra, but she was too stupid to remember the name. Never came when she was called.” Floyd took a drag off his cigar. “With her figger, she don’t need a brain, so I kept her anyway.”
    Pouting at being ignored, Desdemona eased herself onto Seth’s lap and blatantly ground her backside against his groin. He grinned down at her, noting that her golden hair was black at the roots. “So, Desdemona, have you an Othello?” he teased.
    She stared up at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What would I want with a mangy black varmint like that? Nasty fella left a headless rat in front of my bedroom door this morning.”
    Seth looked back at her as if she were the crazy one.
    â€œOthello is Monty Dowd’s cat. Best mouser in town,” supplied Floyd.
    â€œMangiest cat in town, more like it,” mumbled Desdemona.
    Capturing the girl’s gaze with his, Seth asked gently, “Ever read Shakespeare?”
    â€œNever read nothin’, never learned how.”
    Seth felt a surge of pity for the girl. It wasn’t so long ago that he, too, had been unable to read. Toying with the coarse lace trimming her neckline, he explained, “Othello was a noble blackamoor who married a beautiful girl named Desdemona.”
    â€œAnd they lived happily ever after?” she asked, dreamily.
    â€œNot exactly. He strangled her.”
    Her eyes widened with horrified fascination. “How come?”
    â€œJealousy, of course.”
    â€œBut if he loved her enough to marry her, why did he kill her over a little thing like jealousy?”
    Seth chuckled, but in a way that voiced no amusement. “Love is a kind of madness, sweetheart. It possesses a man’s soul and consumes his reason. When he’s in its clutches, he does all sorts of crazy things.”
    Desdemona considered his words, then smiled flirtatiously. “You ever been possessed by crazy love?”
    Seth stared into her dark eyes for a moment, remembering another pair of eyes: silvery-green ones, seductively tip-tilted at the outer corners. Penelope’s eyes. Like a pugilist striking his challenger, the memory slammed the breath out of him.
    â€œWell, have you?” she demanded.
    He drew in a hissing breath. “Only