Hold 'Em: A Gambling Hearts Romance Page 2

  Cass looked at the stairs again, relieved to see the party seemed to be finally breaking up. A man in flowing white robes with an entourage of guards was making his way down to the main floor, followed by another wearing a well-worn pair of Wranglers, an oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and a black felt cowboy hat. She wished Jeff were here. He would’ve gotten a kick out of the cultural differences between the men shaking hands at the bottom of the stairs.

  Sliding off the stool, she shook her head. “No, it’s all yours.” Before she’d even fully stepped aside the old woman had forfeited her machine and climbed onto the vacated seat with the dexterity of someone half her age. “Good luck,” Cass added.

  She grinned as she walked away, the senior’s gruff voice grumbling to her back. “Don’t ya know it’s bad luck to say good luck. Sheesh.”

  Gamblers were notoriously superstitious. Her dad never went anywhere without his lucky rabbit’s foot, though it certainly hadn’t been lucky for the poor animal.

  The guard straightened as she neared, his stony gaze sending a chill up her spine. Cass shivered and lifted her chin in defiance.

  She bypassed him and turned to the other two. “Do you know my father, Rob Gardener? Is he up there?” She nodded upstairs, her stomach flipping nervously.

  “Your father is good player,” the Arab said, his eyes a startling blue in his dark face. He was unbelievably attractive—and knew it. His lips quirked with humor. “You don’t approve?”

  No. She most certainly did not approve.

  “Leave her be, Hakeem.” The raspy tone of the cowboy made the little hairs on the back of Cassandra’s neck stand as though electrically charged. She crossed her arms over suddenly sensitive breasts. His face was grim, eyes a dark chocolate brown filled with… was that sympathy?

  Oh, hell no.

  “Where’s my dad?” she again demanded. Frustrated with the males in front of her, and the one upstairs, she pushed through the middle of them, frowning when her arm brushed the cowboy’s rock solid chest.

  The guard, relaxed now that the game had ended, stood aside to let her pass and she snarled her thanks.

  She’d just taken a step when her dad finally appeared at the top. He straightened his stooped back and rounded shoulders, and descended the stairs with aged dignity. Cassandra watched him, worried by the bleak line of his mouth and his refusal to meet her gaze.

  What had he done?

  Conscious of the men loitering at her back, she forced a smile and held her hand out in welcome. “Daddy. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  His palm was sweaty and she worried about his pallor. Whatever he’d done, they would get over it. He was all she had left—the rest didn’t matter.

  “I’m hungry. What do you say to a breakfast buffet?”

  He looked over her shoulder before finally meeting her gaze, his eyes lined and weary. “Sure, honey. Whatever you want.”

  “You need to tell her.” The rumble came from right behind her and Cass knew without looking that it was the tall cowboy.

  She glanced at him, but his gaze was like his face—stoic, so she turned back to her dad. “Tell me what, Dad?”

  He glared at the man. “Mind your own business, Shaughnessy.”

  “This is my business. Mine and hers,” Shaughnessy answered.

  Anxiety rose like a swarm of angry bees. She squeezed her dad’s hand, but he only dropped his gaze over his protruding belly to his shoes as if wishing for wings.

  Cassandra turned on the stairway and faced the cowboy, relieved that she didn’t have to look up to meet his gaze. “Tell me what this is about,” she demanded.

  “It seems I’ve won myself a fiancée for the next week.” He swept the felt hat off his head and smacked it against a muscled thigh, his other hand rubbing his scalp through thick mink-like hair that curled around his ears and neck. “You.”

  Her legs wobbled and his arms snapped out to swoop her off her feet before she fell.

  Held against the strong chest, Cass’s lashes fluttered and all she could think before she passed out was that her dad had just made a deal with the devil.

  3

  When Cassandra came to it was to find herself entering an elevator in the arms of a stranger. She panicked and squirmed to get away, but it was like trying to escape steel bars.

  “Relax before I drop you,” an amused voice murmured above her head.

  She froze and stared up at a chin dark with stubble. Her gaze followed a strong-looking jaw and sharp cheekbones to chocolate brown eyes with a mesmerizing ring of gold circling the iris. Who was this man?

  “Let me down. I can stand on my own,” she muttered, pushing the rock wall that was his chest.

  Without warning, he let her go feet first. She stumbled against him before backing up to the smooth glass wall of the elevator.

  “Where’s my dad?” How could he have let this… cowboy cart her off like one of his prize trophies?

  “Heading to the bar, I would imagine,” he answered, his gaze tracking her every move. “I convinced him to give us some time to get to know one another.”

  No way. Her dad may be guilty of many things, but selling his daughter to the highest bidder? She couldn’t believe it. There had to be an explanation.

  The elevator doors closed, locking them in together. Cass stepped forward only to realize the buttons for the top floor were lit and the cowboy stood beside them.

  “Stop the elevator on the next floor,” she snapped.

  He ignored her command and leaned back against the glass, eyeing her like a bug under a microscope. The early light of morning was a blush on the horizon behind his head, the city laid out in a carpet of twinkling lights.

  “Look, I’m not sure what happened between you and my father, but you can leave me out of it. I’m getting married in a couple of weeks. I don’t have time for games.”

  That got his attention.

  He straightened and stalked, backing her into a corner. One hand slapped palm down on the wall next to her head, pinning her in place.

  “Trust me, princess, this is no game,” he said, half under his breath. His other hand lifted and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His finger lingered, and caused her breath to catch in her throat. Something elemental passed between their bodies. A bold acknowledgement of sexual attraction, raw and electrifying and oh-so-very wrong.

  Cass turned her head to the side and stared at the blinking numbers for each floor they passed. Surely there had to be someone who needed a ride? His mint-fresh breath caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes against the bombardment to her senses. It only made it worse, highlighting the warmth and lean strength of the body brushing against her own.

  “Please,” she begged, not sure if she was asking him to come closer or move away.

  He hesitated, then his hands dropped and he went back to his previous position on the opposite wall.

  Cassandra refused to admit to feeling bereft. How could this stranger affect her like this? She was engaged, for God’s sake. Her fiancé would be planning their honeymoon this week. They would be standing in a church and saying, “I do” in a few more days. This was crazy.

  “Why don’t we go find my dad and sort this mess out. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation and we’ll all be laughing about it tomorrow.” Again, she eyed the buttons and considered her chance of escape.

  He crossed booted feet and watched, his body deceptively relaxed. Like a cougar.

  She gave up and decided to ride it out. They’d be at the top floor within a matter of seconds and this insanity would be over.

  “Was your dad always a cheat?” the cowboy asked, his hat tipped over his eyes now as he stared at his toes.

  Cassandra stared, shocked. Hot and cold flushes chased each other over her body and her pulse pounded in her ears. What was he talking about? Her daddy didn’t cheat. He was a fine, honorable man. Unlike this… this buffoon who didn’t know his facts from a hole in the ground.


  “If you think this is funny, you have a truly sick sense of humor, Mr.—”

  “It’s Matt,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers. “Matthew Shaughnessy, and I’m not joking. Your father intended to stiff me tonight. He bet more than he could afford, and now you get to cover his debt. So, if you’re going to be pissed it should be with him, not me.”

  At the moment, the whole male population was on her shit list.

  “How much does he owe? I have some cash saved up for my wedding.” His eyes narrowed at her words and she felt a moment’s triumph. Maybe he’d reconsider…

  “Two hundred and fifty-five grand, Miss Gardener. You have that much saved?”

  * * *

  Matt watched the woman across from him valiantly try to control her shock and fought a moment’s remorse. It wasn’t her fault her father had a gambling habit he couldn’t afford. On the other hand, he needed a girlfriend to take home to his grandmother and she was here so… Not quite a match made in Heaven, but it would have to do.

  The upward momentum of the elevator halted, leaving his stomach somewhere near his boots for a brief second. Man, he’d never been a fan of these coffins on chains, even though this one was glassed on three sides. He still itched to get out, escape the confinement. He’d been in the city too long already. It was time to go home.

  The doors slid open and the girl bolted. Matt followed at a more leisurely pace. There was nowhere for her to go, they were at the penthouse. A side benefit to being a high roller. Hotels liked to keep their paying customers happy.

  The short hall ended at a set of double frosted glass doors. A stunning crystal chandelier spotlighted the woman gazing at him with hunted eyes the color of the Mediterranean. The white shirt and pencil skirt, while wrinkled, suited her slender frame. Her hair fascinated him. The lights picked up shades of red and gold in the heavy thickness. It trailed between her shoulder blades in waves meant to tempt a man’s fingers. His ached to delve into their depths, squeeze just enough to make her head tip back and mouth to open…

  Matt abruptly cut that train of thought. He hadn’t brought her here for sex, though if she were to show some sign—yeah, that glare said probably not.

  “I’m not sure what you expected, but I am not going in there with you,” she snapped.

  Matt ignored her to step past, key the door open and enter, heading for the mirrored bar across the room. His reflection bounced back at him crazily. It had been a long night, he needed a drink. He always nursed a drink while gambling, but it was non-alcoholic. He paid his server well to keep that secret. Just one more mind game to trick his opponents into thinking he wasn’t a challenge. He’d learned long ago that cards and alcohol don’t mix.

  As he poured himself a stiff shot of whiskey he watched Miss Gardener—Cassandra—edge toward the elevators. He had to give her credit. She never gave up. She punched the down button and waited, arms crossed and foot tapping, for it to let her in.

  “You’ll be there awhile,” he called. “I locked it.”

  She swung around and stared at him, and the frightened look that passed over her face tightened his gut. He hadn’t mean to scare her. Jesus.

  “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.” He pointed to the white leather furniture in the sitting room. “Give me a chance to explain, okay?”

  She tossed her head like a high spirited filly, and flounced into the room. “You have five minutes and then I’m calling the cops.” She held up a bright yellow cell phone with a happy face sticker that seemed to sneer at him.

  Okay, so it was to be like speed-dating. He could work with that.

  Matt took a fortifying drink, inhaling sharply as the warmth spread to his belly, and waited until she perched on the edge of a chair.

  “My grandmother is dying, Miss Gardener. Stage four breast cancer.” He held up his hand when she went to speak. “It’s okay, we’re learning to accept it, but here’s the thing; she wants to see me happy before she goes.” He followed her example and sat in the opposite chair, hands cradling his drink between his legs. He swished the liquid and stared at the melting ice rather than meet her gaze. “She doesn’t approve of my lifestyle. It’s her dream to see me happily married and tied to the ranch in Texas.” He glanced up. “Preferably with a passel of kids.”

  She stared at him, sympathy shining from those expressive blue eyes. Her body relaxed into the chair, hands resting in her lap and legs crossed demurely at the ankle.

  He’d managed to catch her attention.

  “I’m so sorry. I can imagine how you must feel, but what does that have to do with me?” Then, as though a light clicked on, her face flushed a becoming pink, her back stiffened, and she leaned forward to squeak, “Do you expect me to marry you?”

  4

  Cass couldn’t believe she was doing this. The last six hours had been surreal. It had taken some fancy persuading and a video call to Matt’s grandmother before she made the decision to visit his home as his make-believe fiancée for one week. In exchange, Matt—he’d suggested they forego formality, considering they were supposed to be engaged—would return her wedding ring and forgive her father’s debt.

  She grimaced at her wavy reflection in the rectangular glass window of the jet as it sped them across the country.

  Texas.

  About as far from her home in Toronto as it was possible to get. What was she going to do on a ranch for a week? Cass was a city girl; she’d never even been camping in her twenty-six years.

  A low murmur and the answering giggle turned her attention to her companion. He was smiling up at the flight attendant, eyes crinkled at the edges with humor, and a beguiling dimple showing itself in his darkly tanned cheek. Strong-looking hands rested on a flat belly above an impressive silver buckle and his long legs were bent awkwardly in the aisle between the seats. She would’ve felt bad for him, except that he was forcing her into this impossible farce.

  “Want anything?”

  Matt’s amused voice startled her. His eyes reminded her of the pet dog her parents had bought for her seventh birthday. It was only a stuffed animal, but she’d loved Farley. His soft white body and dark brown eyes had empathized and seemed to give sympathy to a lonely little girl.

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head just enough for a lone blond curl to dip beguilingly onto his forehead.

  The flight attendant snickered, then quickly covered her mouth.

  Cass’s lips pressed together, biting down on the harsh words she ached to say. She ignored him to smile at the attendant. “Water, please. It’s rather dry, isn’t it?”

  Matt’s lips quirked, acknowledging her dig. “Wait until we land. You thought Vegas was hot? That ain’t nothing compared to San Antonio.”

  Lovely, she couldn’t stand the suspense.

  “How far away from the city is your ranch?” Maybe she could plan a day trip and turn it into three.

  “Not far,” he said, handing over her bottle of Perrier. “As the crow flies.”

  Their fingers brushed and a flush broke across Cass’s chest. Of course he noticed. She frowned and twisted the cap off the bottle, wishing it was his neck. “What does that mean? A couple of hours? More?”

  He lifted his gaze from his perusal and grinned. “Even doing over the speed limit it’s a ten-hour drive, honey. I guess you’re stuck with me for the duration.” He lifted his glass in a salute, then leaned back in his seat, a relaxed smile tipping that annoyingly perfect mouth.

  Ten hours.

  She was going to go crazy out there. Suddenly, she had a horrifying thought. “There’s internet, right?”

  * * *

  Matt lugged the princess’s three overflowing suitcases into the back of his pickup and shook his head. Who needed that many outfits for a week? She could fill the local Salvation Army with those things. He inhaled a deep breath of Texas air and felt his stress melt away. The truth was, he missed his home. If not for Granny’s wishes, he would have been happy to be back.<
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  He looked to where his new fiancée stood near the passenger door, as though waiting for him to open it for her or some-damn-thing.

  “It’s unlocked. Get in,” he told her, smirking when she jumped because he slammed the tailgate shut.

  She looked up at the door, then at him with eyes as deadly as any rattler. “I would have if you didn’t drive a freaking semi.” Her voice rose with each word to near banshee status.

  He glanced around to see if they had created a scene, but thankfully most passengers were long gone already.

  “Relax. All you had to do was say so.” He reached her side in a couple long strides and reached past her to open the door. She flinched, and he hesitated. What the hell? Did she think he’d hit her or something?

  Careful not to startle her further, he placed his hands on her hips and met her widened gaze. Her eyes really were incredible. They reminded him of a pool they had on the ranch. It was hidden in the hills, fed by a fresh water spring, the deepest blue he’d ever seen—until now.

  He cleared his throat. “Put your hands on my shoulders. I’m going to lift you into the cab.”

  She blinked. Then slowly, one tortuous moment at a time, her fingers drifted over the muscles of his arms.

  And he forgot to breathe.

  “I’m ready,” she whispered.

  Oh, God. So was he.

  Disturbed by how quickly she’d affected him, he hoisted her into the truck and shut the door on her startled expression.

  He had a feeling it was going to be an interesting week.

  5

  Cassandra gazed in astonishment at the small town laid like a sparkling blanket in the foothills outside of Austin, Texas.

  “This is your home?” She came from a well-off family and had grown up visiting her friends sprawling mansions and fancy condos, but this was something altogether different. They’d landed in Austin’s International Airport mid-morning and had traveled south almost non-stop since. She was hungry, tired, her butt hurt, and she really needed to pee, but all of her discomforts were temporarily forgotten as she took in the scene on the horizon.