The sheriff’s left hip complained, but was ignored.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Spilling the Future
Wilfreda paraded an ambulatory melody before the denizens of the dancehall. Dicky pulled Tara Taylor close to him and allowed his breath to warm the side of her neck while they danced a simple three-step pattern.
“My goodness,” said the redheaded woman as a scarlet blush illuminating her cheeks, nose and forehead.
The gambler placed the palm of his hand upon the satin that covered her left hip and asked, “May I?”
“You are.”
“I am,” Dicky confirmed with a nod. He did not look away from her as he applied a little more pressure to the fleshy curve of her hip. She swallowed dryly as his sensitive fingertips divined the stitching of the underwear that lay beneath her dress.
Whenever the handsome
