Railroading across the burnt brown landscape of a Southwest summer, fortune-teller Sophie Madrigal told the fortunes of anyone cur8ious enough to pass the velvet curtain of her makeshift parlor -- and Gabriel Caine was just such a man. The black-clad bounty hunter was on the hunt for a murderer, and nothing would stop him from bagging his prize. So when the gorgeous Gabriel laughingly offered his palm, Sophie felt compelled to reveal everything . . . or almost everything. What Sophie didn't divulge was that she, too, appeared in his future. Or that she was at a loss to explain the heady scent of sweet spice that swirled around her whenever Gabriel was near. Or that her will seemed to crumble to dust beneath his chestnut gaze. "Magic," claimed her wise old aunt, and Sophie feared the woman must be right. For nothing short of magic -- unless it was love -- would have ensnared her so completely in . . . GABRIEL’S FATE.