Reno’s hand moved once more, pressing against Eve, caressing her. Again she tried to push him away.

«The mine,» Eve said. «The Lyons’ gold mine.»

«Spanish treasure?»

«Yes!»

Reno shrugged and bent toward Eve again.

«I already won that, remember?» he asked.

«Just the journal. It’s no good to you without the symbols,» she said quickly.

He paused, watching her through narrowed eyes. She might have been eager for his kisses earlier, but now she was eager only to be free of his touch.

Abruptly Reno removed his hand from Eve. He was damned if he would allow himself to be teased into wanting a girl more than she wanted him. That was the kind of mistake a smart man never made more than once.

«What symbols?» he asked skeptically.

«The ones Don Lyon’s ancestor carved along the trail to mark dead ends and dangers and gold and everything else that would help.»

Slowly Reno moved back, giving Eve more room. But he was careful not to get beyond arm’s reach of her. He had seen Eve move. She had an unsettling speed, every bit as fast as a cat.

«All right, gata, talk to me about Spanish gold.»

«My name is Eve, not cat,» she said.

She grabbed the camisole that Reno had tossed aside and yanked it on.

«Eve, huh? Somehow I’m not surprised. Well, my name isn’t Adam, so don’t try feeding me any apples.»

«Your loss, not mine,» she muttered. «I’m told my apple pie is the best to be found west of the Mississippi and north of the Mason-Dixon line, and maybe south of it as well.»

Hurriedly Eve fastened the camisole with fingers that were unusually clumsy. She knew she had just had a narrow escape.

And she was grateful that gunfighters kept their word.

«I’m more interested in gold than I am in apple pie,» Reno retorted. «Remember?»