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in buckskins fighting bravely against hordes of Indians intent on lifting their scalps and of ladies with the bodices of their dresses torn open to reveal alabaster white breasts. Most of these women were posed cringing at the feet of some dime novel hero determined to save her honor and virginity from terrible, slavering, and bearded Apaches, outlaws, and even seafaring pirates.
    â€œWhat a crock of bullshit,” Longarm muttered, dropping the books back down on the table with contempt.
    â€œWhat did you say?” Delia asked, joining him in her study.
    â€œI have to be honest with you,” Longarm told her. “I’ve tried to read a few of those dime novels and I either wind up laughing my butt off . . . or tossing them across the room in disgust.”
    â€œHave you ever read one of mine?”
    â€œNo. And I hope you aren’t offended, but I don’t think I ever will.”
    â€œI’m not offended. And you are right . . . most dime novels are ridiculous and completely without literary merit. But what I want to write is very different and far more true to life out in the great American West.”
    â€œYeah, you told me you wanted to base your stories on facts.”
    â€œAnd that’s where you can help me.” Delia slipped back into her kitchen and returned a few minutes later with steaming cups of coffee. “Here you go. This will perk you up for some more lovemaking . . . if you want.”
    He sipped the coffee and was pleasantly surprised. “This is really good.”
    â€œI buy the best coffee from Brazil and I make it strong. I love strong things, Custis. Strong men, strong lovemaking, and strong characters in my novels. But like I said, I’m out of ideas except for one.”
    â€œAnd that is?”
    â€œI want to write a series based on
you
. As promised earlier, I’ll change all the names and give myself the freedom to embellish the true facts, but at least it will be based on a real frontier lawman and real accounts. My publisher thinks this is a wonderful idea and has encouraged me to try this so that my work becomes the standard of excellence. My work will be so much better than Beadle’s or any other dime novelist that I’ll put them to shame and out of business. If I do this right, I can become extremely rich . . . and you’ll be well rewarded.”
    Longarm shook his head. “Delia, while I admire your ability to write and create stories and the financial independence you’ve achieved, I honestly don’t want to have anything to do with it.”
    She set her cup down and came over to stand before him. “I promised you I’d pay you well and that there would be other . . . offerings.” Delia untied the little rope sash at her waist and opened the front of her bathrobe. “Do you
really
want to turn me down and miss out on so much that I am offering?”
    Longarm put his cup of coffee down and stared at those luscious breasts. Even without conscious thought he could feel his manhood stiffening and his hand found the soft wetness between her thighs. Delia closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure.
    â€œI could pass on the money,” Longarm said in a thick voice, “because having a lot of money has never been my dream. But when it comes to the flesh . . . especially when it comes to someone as beautiful, willing, and desirable as you . . . I have feet of clay.”
    She reached down and stroked his stiffening rod. “It’s not your feet that I’m interested in, Custis.”
    Longarm kissed her and led Delia back into her bedroom. For an instant, he eyed the swing seat, but then he decided he was too hungry to wait for her to adjust the contraption. So he just pushed her gently down on the bed and mounted her like a stud would a mare in heat.

Chapter 5
    Longarm staggered into his office the next day at eleven o’clock and