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  Notorious Woman

  Annabelle Weston

  Book three in the Desert Heat series

  Kate has a bad reputation. Since her pa’s murder, she’s been a whip-wielding, ball-busting hellcat, determined to prove she can run a ranch just as well as any man. Then her little sister goes and hires a new foreman—a foreman who makes Kate tingle in places she shouldn’t be tingling, not if she wants to keep up a tough façade. When Jake takes liberties by kissing her—never mind where he kisses her—she clocks him in the chin then hopes he’ll kiss her some more. What’s happening to her?

  Jake isn’t just at the ranch to help run the place. He made a bet he could tame Kate, a bet that would give him the money he needs for his own piece of land. He never expected her to be so ornery…or taste so sweet. And he never expected to like her more when she’s cantankerous. Unfortunately, it’s a bet he can’t afford to lose, even though he’s already lost his heart.

  Inside Scoop: This historical romp is a sexy Western take on The Taming of the Shrew.

  A Romantica® Western erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Notorious Woman

  Annabelle Weston

  Dedication

  To Sylvia M. Your courage inspires me.

  Acknowledgements

  A big thanks to Dar Albert for the wonderfully evocative covers in the Desert Heat series. To Carrie and the editorial staff at Ellora’s Cave, much appreciation for your hard work bringing Desert Heat to my readers.

  Chapter One

  Arizona Territory, 1883

  Men told tall tales around the campfire and this one was a whopper in Jake Madden’s opinion. A rancher’s daughter by the name of Kate Crowley had gained the reputation of being the meanest-tempered woman in the territory. Talk was she’d given a feller such a tongue-lashing he’d hightailed it to the mountains and never returned.

  “Aw, heck,” Jake said, watching the campfire lick the sides of the cast-iron pot of beans. If he could break the orneriest bronco, and he did a damn good job of it if anyone asked, he could manage a feisty woman. “I can tame her.”

  The other men went silent as a prayer meeting.

  Shorty, the camp cook, bit a piece off the stick he’d been chewing on and spit it into the crackling fire. Sparks flew out, nearly catching him on the tips of his worn-out boots. “I’ve got fifty dollars says you can’t.”

  The other fellas whooped and hollered.

  “Shorty, you ain’t got fifty dollars to buy a new pair of boots!” One of the men snorted.

  Jake was all of twenty-five years and hoping to buy his own piece of land and become a cattleman. As much as he loved the life of a drover, he wanted to settle down one day to a place of his own. Working cattle and busting mustangs hadn’t given him the nest egg he needed. A friendly wager was an opportunity not to be missed.

  Besides, a feisty wench sounded like a challenge no man should back down from. Make the days and especially the nights a lot more fun.

  He eyed the assembly of cowpokes, all good, hardworking men. But none of them were settled. Not one man—not even the old-timers—had a female’s breast to lay his head on at the end of the day. And Lulu at the Gray Horse didn’t count.

  He tilted his head to the left, cracking his neck, and then to the right to even out his discomfort. “I’ll have her calling me ‘sir’ and sharing my bed by roundup,” he boasted with confidence. And he meant it.

  The foreman—called Texas Jack—guffawed. “You have any experience with women?”

  “I had a ma, God rest her soul,” Jake replied with a nod and a pat to his heart.

  The men exchanged glances and shook their heads.

  “Reining in an ill-tempered female is a bit different, my boy. A man’s ma is apt to not find fault, whereas this Crowley woman is sure to tear into a fella for the slightest shortcoming.”

  Jake’s jaw clamped tight with irritation. Calling him a boy, which they did often, made him want to punch them in their rotted teeth but he didn’t let it show. Instead he grinned from ear to ear.

  “You willing to put your money where your mouth is?” Jake could already count them silver coins. They’d buy him a parcel of land and a prime herd of cows. Not too soon after, a fine strapping toddler would wobble across the porch with his mama—not a spitfire, no sirree, but a sweet-tempered woman—standing by his side.

  Texas Jack snapped his yap shut but there were others willing to lay down their bets.

  Bill Henderson counted the money, plainly in awe when he said, “There’s over two thousand dollars here.”

  A fortune, Jake reckoned, and a bet he’d never be able to cover. He’d no doubt the Crowley woman would bend to his will.

  “Consider it as good as mine,” he said with confidence. He stood and cupped his crotch. “Ain’t no woman out there who can resist this charm.”

  “By roundup,” Shorty reminded him, a brow raised. “That’d be less than six weeks.”

  “I’ll need to take some time off,” he told Texas Jack. “Gonna give the lady all my attention.”

  Jack nodded, his eyelids drooping. “We can spare you for a while.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Jake replied, slapping on his Stetson. He looked around the group. Whom did he trust the most not to run off with a small fortune, his future? His gaze settled on the man they all respected. “Bill, you hold on to the bets.”

  “Sure thing, Jake.” Bill collected the coins into a leather bag, tied it with a bit of twine and stuffed it in a saddlebag. “Don’t you fret none. Your money’s safe in here.”

  Jake was gratified Bill considered the bet won.

  Shorty ladled the beans on to tin plates and handed one to Jake. Jake took a seat on a rock, his throat dry and his belly growling.

  True, he didn’t have much experience when it came to womenfolk—excepting they were soft and smelled good and were apt to giggle when talked to. But he’d learned a lot about breaking a horse and he reckoned a scold of a woman wasn’t much different. And Ma had taught him how to treat a lady right.

  With those two skills settled well into his back pocket, he was confident Kate Crowley would be doing his bidding in no time. And maybe he’d have a good meal in the bargain—no more canned beans and dried, leathery meat three times a day. Heck, what he was about to undertake would make his days and especially his nights a sight more fun.

  He scooped up a spoonful of lukewarm beans. This was going to be the easiest bet he’d ever won. He set his mind to thinking about a pretty piece of flatland that would be his by the New Year.

  * * * * *

  Kathryn Crowley tightened her grip on her pa’s bullwhip. Coiled at her hip, the corded leather of the stock dug into the flesh of her palm. Sweat beaded and dripped down her spine, giving her a chill despite the heat. Blowing sand stung her nose and cheeks and left grit in her mouth.

  She ran her tongue over her teeth, trying not to gag.

  She didn’t want to use the whip but she would if she had to. She’d learned how to get a bullheaded man’s undivided attention. And her trusty whip would certainly gain that.

  “How could you, Mack? After everything my pa did for you?” She’d caught the foreman playing cards over at the Blue Belle—what used to be the Lonesome before it burned to the ground—in the middle of the day. Most likely with the money she’d given him to buy supplies.

  The big man puffed up his chest and snarled. He regarded the whip with a sneer and then met her gaze. “You’ve got no business spying on me,” he said. “A man needs time off once in a while and not in the company of females.”

  “Not with my money, you don’t.”

  Mack’s face flamed red as an Arizona sunset and he took a step toward her. “You got no call to accuse me of stealing.”

  Kate held her ground. “Seeing you gambling when you should be taking care of Crowley business is all the proof I need.”

  His upper lip curled. “So what? I was winning. I have enough money to buy your feed and have some left over.”

  Kate had heard enough from this brute. How dare he mock her and abuse her trust? “So what? I’ll tell you what. You’re fired, Mack McKay.”

  “You ain’t got it in you to run that ranch without me.” He spit on the ground. “You and your sis won’t last another winter.”

  A challenge. The man dared to challenge her? Kate never backed down from a fight. In fact, she’d gotten into more trouble with people daring her not to do things than anything else.

  “We’ll see about that,” she replied. “The Crowley spread will be the most profitable ranch in these parts one day, just you wait and see.”

  She looked around her. She’d drawn a crowd outside of Finney’s Mercantile. How she hated to make a scene. She could just hear the residents of Tucson ranting about how she ought to act like a lady and leave the running of a ranch to men.

  Well, there were no men who would work for her except Mack. He’d started as foreman at the ranch for her pa and she’d just fired him.

  She couldn’t let him make the rules. No man would boss her. Besides, this scoundrel had bet against her. Made her the laughingstock of town.

  Mack sucked in air, twisted his lips and spit again. This time the disgusting phlegm landed inches from her black leather boots. Gasps sounded from the women watching on the sidewalk. Kate’s stomach roiled. He’d just spit on her. She couldn’t let him get away with disrespecting her.

  She squeezed the whipstock tighter. With just a flick of her wrist, the leather would crack in the dirt, making him jump.
She’d show the brute some manners.

  She held back, keeping her anger in check. She’d promised her sister.

  Unfortunately for him, he began to laugh, a big belly laugh that had some of the others behind her chuckling. Anger ate up the last of her goodwill.

  Kate let the whip uncoil. She adjusted the weight.

  “Put that away, Kate girl, before you hurt yourself.” He frowned but didn’t appear the least bit unnerved.

  “How dare you,” she hissed.

  “What did I say?” Mack answered, speaking to the crowd, his eyes bright with amusement.

  Folks began to ask the same question, no doubt wondering why Kate was making a scene and interrupting their peaceful morning. It only frustrated her more.

  Kate had a point to prove and she wasn’t about to give Mack the satisfaction of humiliating her in front of the good people of Tucson. “Don’t make me use this whip.”

  At this, Mack laughed louder and threw his head back, his limbs shaking. Others joined him. Obviously, they found Kate’s warning nothing but a joke.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked. Heat radiated up from her chest and neck to settle in her cheeks. This was the last time Mack would laugh at her. She shook out the whip and closed the gap between them.

  The rat of a foreman stopped abruptly and straightened to his full height. If he expected her to be intimidated by his size and strength, he was mistaken. No man scared Kate Crowley. Especially not a thief and gambler.

  Before she knew what was happening, their latest ex-employee had the gall to snatch her purse from her belt, breaking the strap.

  She grabbed for it but he danced out of her reach.

  “Give that back this instant,” she said in a commanding voice.

  “You mean this?” He held it up and jiggled it in her face.

  “I won’t ask you again,” she said, raising the whip. That was the last of her money. If he made off with it she’d be penniless. Her anger built. She’d teach him who was boss.

  Mack twisted his mouth into a frightful sneer. “You fired me, Ms. Crowley. Consider whatever’s in this hand bag severance pay.”

  She bared her teeth, prepared to remind him who he was dealing with.

  “Now see here…” Mr. Finney stepped off the boardwalk.

  “Don’t concern yourself here, Finney,” Mack said, rocking from side to side. “This little filly just needs to be taught her place. Besides, I don’t think she’s got it in her to use that whip.”

  Kate had heard enough of his patronizing talk. Her blood pumped at an astonishing rate through her body and a surge of power radiated to her limbs.

  She raised the whip and gave it a jerk, just as her father had taught her to do. The whip cracked and her purse dropped to the ground, the jingle of coins muffled by her ex-foreman’s shout of pain.

  “You bitch!” He rubbed his raw knuckles and glared.

  She wasn’t sorry and stared back at him, hoping he’d learned his lesson.

  Instead he advanced on her, his shoulders tight, his lips bunched into a fearsome scowl.

  A moment of panic filled her belly but she shoved it aside. There was nothing she could do but stand her ground. She’d gotten his attention and she couldn’t back down.

  He stared, primed for murder, his grip on his sidearm. She reared her arm, ready to strike again but Mack grabbed her wrist. She struggled but his grip tightened. He yanked the whip out of her grasp and tossed it in the dirt.

  And there and then he planted a disgusting, slobbery kiss on her lips.

  She twisted and pulled to get away from his whiskey-saturated mouth. Bile burned a path up her throat and her stomach heaved at the wretched smell.

  Her fingers curled into a fist and her body flew into action. She struck a blow, clobbering the idiot hard under the jaw. He released her and stepped back, blinking rapidly.

  As she glared at him, she wiped off her mouth with her sleeve, her fists ready to strike again. Revolted by his taste in her mouth, she spit onto the ground.

  Mr. Finney jumped between them, holding his hands out to stop Mack from retaliating, or to protect him, Kate wasn’t entirely sure.

  “You two settle down,” Mr. Finney said sharply. “There’s nothing to be gained fighting.”

  “Stay out of this, Finney. I’ve a score to settle,” Mack replied, his throat full of gravel. He rubbed his jaw as he glared at her.

  “I’ve sent for the sheriff,” Finney said.

  “You seen what she done,” Mack said, crying foul.

  Just like Mack not to admit he’d done anything wrong. Well, this time no one would blame her or her temper. Mack had clearly provoked her by taking liberties. Those who watched were no longer laughing but glancing at each other with brows furrowed.

  Mack dragged his feet back and forth on the ground like a bull ready to charge. The whip had left an angry red welt.

  Mr. Finney stood his ground. “Now you simmer down, McKay. This here is a peaceful town. We’ll let the sheriff deal with the situation when he gets here.”

  “I’m bringing up charges against you.” Mack jabbed a finger in her direction. “I’ll have the sheriff arrest you for assault.”

  “There are plenty of witnesses to say I had cause,” she retaliated.

  Mack checked the crowd, measuring his support. The crowd nodded and whispered among themselves. He took a step back, sneering.

  Kate’s breathing steadied but a shiver of fear threatened to betray her. She wouldn’t give Mack or the rest of the town the satisfaction of thinking she was afraid of the brute. She wouldn’t be cowed like the rest of them. She was in the right.

  Sheriff Poole was a decent sort of man. He would see the right of things, wouldn’t he? If not maybe she could persuade his wife Carly for some assistance. Carly Poole would understand what Kate was up against.

  She picked up her purse, brushed off the dirt and tucked it into the waistband. She found her whip lying in the middle of the street and the crowd backed away as she snatched it up and coiled it.

  “Here comes the sheriff,” someone shouted from the sidewalk. Sheriff Poole pushed his way into the center of the ring that had formed around them. The circle widened to give him room.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Sheriff Poole scowled as he was prone to do.

  “That man,” Kate indicated with a nod, “stole from me!”

  “Lock her up, sheriff.” Mack shot out the words. “She’s gone loco. See what she did?” He raised his chin. “The woman just attacked me! And that’s a fact.”

  Sheriff Poole took stock of the situation, his eyes rolling from Mack to her. She could see not only his consternation with her behavior, but a speech coming up. She’d give him the raw side of her tongue if he dared to side with the lying thief.

  “What has he stolen, Kate?” the sheriff asked, a patient man if there ever was one.

  “My reputation,” she mumbled under her breath. His kiss still stung her lips, his nasty breath insulted her nose and the wretched taste of him poisoned her mouth. “He took my money and squandered it on a card game, and when I fired him he grabbed my purse.”

  “Mack, what do you say to these charges?” the sheriff asked, sighing deeply. The man appeared to have aged in just the few minutes he’d been out there.

  The crowd parted and Carly walked to her husband’s side. Kate took comfort from having her there. She’d been the first person to pay a call on Kate and Jolie after Pa was shot. Folks claimed Mrs. Poole was no lady but Kate thought differently.

  “Fair compensation,” Mack hollered like a wounded buffalo. “The woman fired me without cause.”

  “You got your compensation playing poker,” she countered.

  “Did you have to hit him?” Sheriff Poole asked patiently.

  “The damn man kissed me.”

  There was a murmur of agreement and sniggering. She’d never live this down.

  “You were begging for it,” Mack replied with a snort.

  “You deserved her retaliation then, Mack. I’ve never seen a woman who looked less like she wanted a kiss,” Carly said with a smirk. Her husband gave her a sideways, stay-out-of-it glance.

  Kate bit down on her tongue to stop the vicious retort she was about to hurl at Mack. Arguing with the bastard would give Sheriff Poole no choice but to defend the no-account. She’d no wish for the sheriff to correct her in front of all these folks.