Maggie froze
Dare she turn her hand over, let his shaft rest against her palm? She wanted to, yet she wasn’t sure she had the courage.
“Do you want to touch me, Maggie?” Cord asked hoarsely.
She swallowed and nodded, but couldn’t seem to move.
He trailed his fingertips over her knuckles, his touch a light dusting. “Have you ever seen a man naked before?”
She widened her eyes at the outlandish notion, briefly met his gaze before hers flickered away. “No.”
He picked up her hand and turned it over, palm up. To her amazement, his hand wasn’t too steady. It made it easier to look at him, see the unexpected vulnerability in his face. See the slight tremble of his shoulders. He was actually trembling. Why? And then she met his eyes.
Without looking away from her, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, and then he wrapped her fingers around his smooth, hot manhood. She jumped at the initial touch, as if he’d scorched her, and then watched in awe as the trembling in his shoulders spread through his chest.
Dear Reader,
It’s my hope that by now you’ve read about the fantastical journey of the two Winslow sisters, Reese and Ellie, in Once an Outlaw and Once a Gambler. The heroines and readers were transported to 1870s Deadwood. Now, in Once a Rebel, we return there with Cord Braddock, an ex-stuntman turned private detective who is searching for the two women. Since Cord is half Navajo Indian, the challenges he faces extend beyond traveling through time and falling for a virginal heroine.
Although I’m currently working on a contemporary story, I really hope there are more time-travel romances in my future. Hmm, I’m thinking logging in the Pacific Northwest or maybe even the early frontier of Alaska? Sometimes my mind is a dangerous place. Sure keeps me entertained, though. I hope this story does the same for you.
Happy reading!
Debbi Rawlins
Once A Rebel
DEBBI RAWLINS
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debbi Rawlins lives in central Utah, out in the country, surrounded by woods and deer and wild turkeys. It’s quite a change for a city girl, who didn’t even know where the state of Utah was until four years ago. Of course, unfamiliarity never stopped her. Between her junior and senior years of college she spontaneously left home in Hawaii and bummed around Europe for five weeks by herself. And much to her parents’ delight, she returned home with only a quarter in her wallet.
Books by Debbi Rawlins
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
13—IN HIS WILDEST DREAMS
36—EDUCATING GINA
60—HANDS ON
112—ANYTHING GOES…
143—HE’S ALL THAT*
160—GOOD TO BE BAD
183—A GLIMPSE OF FIRE
220—HOT SPOT**
250—THE HONEYMOON THAT WASN’T*
312—SLOW HAND LUKE*
351—IF HE ONLY KNEW…*
368—WHAT SHE REALLY WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS†
417—ALL OR NOTHING
455—ONCE AN OUTLAW††
I would like to acknowledge that Once a Rebel
is a work of fiction and meant solely to entertain.
While I have paid close attention to historical
detail, now and then I may have stretched the
facts for the sake of the story.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
1
“MAD DOG MANSON still in the wind?” Cord Braddock asked casually as he pocketed the much-needed check he’d just received for his last job. Another messy divorce case. Yeah, the guy was cheating, and Cord had delivered the proof that would net the soon-to-be ex-wife a nice settlement. But if he had to spy on one more sleazy, lying dirtbag husband, he was gonna…
“No.”
“Who caught him?” His gaze shot to Leslie’s impassive face.
“No, you can’t have the job.” Slowly, she shook her head, her blue gaze firm and unwavering. Behind her on the beige office wall was a poster from one of her earliest movies.
“So no one else has bagged him yet.” Now, that was some serious money to be made. Enough for five months’ rent, five lease payments on Cord’s Porsche and next year’s gym membership.
“You’re a private detective, not a bounty hunter, and even if you were, I wouldn’t give you this one.” Leslie slid open her desk drawer and pulled out a strongbox where he knew she kept petty cash. “This is Manson’s third strike. He’s not coming in without taking down anything that moves.”
Yeah, Cord had his P.I. license now, even a gun and permit to carry it, but calling him a private detective was being too generous with the kind of jobs he’d been doing. “I’m not looking for easy.”
“You should be.” She gestured with a lift of her chin. “How’s the shoulder?”
“I want Mad Dog, Leslie.” Out of habit, or because she’d called attention to it, he flexed his injured shoulder. Today it didn’t hurt too much. “I’m dead serious about this.”
She leaned back in her creamy yellow leather chair and stared at him with a sympathy he found hard to stomach. Yet she wasn’t that unlike him. Chewed up and spit out by Hollywood when her use and youth had hit a wall. Still, she’d done okay for herself, invested well while she’d been making some dough, and then bought old man Barker’s detective and bail bonds agency.
Cord hadn’t been so smart. He’d spent the considerable money he’d made as a stuntman