“You Show Me Yours,
I’ll Show You Mine.”
Sydney laid her cards on the table without even looking at them. Without any expression at all, Reese laid his hand down, too. She slowly lowered her gaze.
Three tens. And a one-eyed jack. Four of a kind.
She’d lost. Dear Lord. Two weeks. She had to work for Reese Sinclair for two entire weeks. Under his “personal supervision,” as he’d put it.
Reese shook his head and chuckled. “You don’t think I’m serious about this bet, do you? I was just having some fun.”
She lifted her chin and narrowed a cold look at him. “I said I’d be here at eight, and I will.”
A muscle jumped in Reese’s jaw, and she watched as his eyes darkened. “Just remember, if it gets too rough for you, that I gave you an out.”
“I can handle whatever you dish out,” she said in a voice so serene it surprised even her. “What remains to be seen is if you can handle me.”
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the world of Silhouette Desire, where you can indulge yourself every month with romances that can only be described as passionate, powerful and provocative!
Popular author Cait London offers you Gabriel’s Gift, this April’s MAN OF THE MONTH. We’re sure you’ll love this tale of lovers once separated who reunite eighteen years later and must overcome the past before they can begin their future together.
The riveting Desire miniseries TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: LONE STAR JEWELS continues with Her Ardent Sheikh by Kristi Gold, in which a dashing sheikh must protect a free-spirited American woman from danger.
In Wife with Amnesia by Metsy Hingle, the estranged husband of an amnesiac woman seeks to win back her love…and to save her from a mysterious assailant. Watch for Metsy Hingle’s debut MIRA title, The Wager, in August 2001. Barbara McCauley’s hero “wins” a woman in a poker game in Reese’s Wild Wager, another tantalizing addition to her SECRETS! miniseries. Enjoy a contemporary “beauty and the beast” story with Amy J. Fetzer’s Taming the Beast. And Ryanne Corey brings you a runaway heiress who takes a walk on the wild side with the bodyguard who’s fallen head over heels for her in The Heiress & the Bodyguard.
Be sure to treat yourself this month, and read all six of these exhilarating Desire novels!
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Reese’s Wild Wager
BARBARA MCCAULEY
Books by Barbara McCauley
Silhouette Desire
Woman Tamer #621
Man from Cougar Pass #698
Her Kind of Man #771
Whitehorn’s Woman #803
A Man Like Cade #832
Nightfire #875
*Texas Heat #917
*Texas Temptation #948
*Texas Pride #971
Midnight Bride #1028
The Nanny and the Reluctant Rancher #1066
Courtship in Granite Ridge #1128
Seduction of the Reluctant Bride #1144
†Blackhawk’s Sweet Revenge #1230
†Secret Baby Santos #1236
†Killian’s Passion #1242
†Callan’s Proposition #1290
†Reese’s Wild Wager #1360
Silhouette Intimate Moments
†Gabriel’s Honor #1024
BARBARA MCCAULEY
was born and raised in California and has spent a good portion of her life exploring the mountains, beaches and deserts so abundant there. The youngest of five children, she grew up in a small house, and her only chance for a moment alone was to sneak into the backyard with a book and quietly hide away.
With two children of her own now and a busy household, she still finds herself slipping away to enjoy a good novel. A daydreamer and incurable romantic, she says writing has fulfilled her most incredible dream of all—breathing life into the people in her mind and making them real. She has one loud and demanding Amazon parrot named Fred and a German shepherd named Max. When she can manage the time, she loves to sink her hands into freshly turned soil and make things grow.
To Cris Grace, the Queen of Cuisine—
this one’s for you!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
One
Cigar smoke lay like a heavy hand in the small back office of Squire’s Tavern and Inn. Four men, brothers, sat around the table, cards in hand, their dark gazes intent on the current deal. Gabe Sinclair, the eldest of the four, frowned at his luck while Callan, brother number two in order of birth, considered the possibility of drawing another king for a pair. Beside him, Lucian, brother number three, smiled inwardly at a pair of jacks and deuce wild, while Reese, the proprietor of the inn and the youngest Sinclair at thirty-two, all but did mental backflips over the three queens in his hand.
They were a handsome lot, the Sinclair men. Each of them, with their thick, dark hair and rugged good looks, had broken more than their share of hearts in Bloomfield County.
Some said that Reese held the record, though. He had eyes that made women forget to breathe. Deep green, like a forest, and curtained with heavy, dark lashes. And his smile. Lord, that smile of his could charm the stripes off a zebra.
It also didn’t hurt that he was six foot three, solid muscle and had won the honorary award of “Best Butt in a Pair of Blue Jeans” three years running by the females in Bloomfield. Reese proudly displayed his silver-framed certificate on the wall right beside his plaque from the Bloomfield County Chamber of Commerce for “Top Restaurant of the Year.”
How sweet life is, Reese thought as he clamped his cigar between his teeth. Three queens, a ten-dollar stogie and two fingers of Patron Gold tequila. He grabbed a handful of chips from his winnings stack and tossed them onto the table. He was on a date with Lady Luck and about to score.
“Five dollars says that pot is mine.” Reese grinned at his brothers. “Again.”
Lucian glanced up from his hand of cards and bit down on his own cigar. “You close that mouth of yours long enough and you won’t have to put your foot in it. I’ll see your five and double it.”
“Too steep for me.” Gabe threw his cards down and pushed away from the table. “Gotta go, kids. Kevin and I have a fishing date at the crack of dawn.”
“I’m out, too. Abby’s waiting up for me.” Callan stood, and wiggled his brow. “Far be it from me to keep a lady waiting.”
Reese stared at his brothers and shook his head. The Saturday night games were getting shorter and fewer since Callan had married Abby six months earlier and then Gabe got engaged to Melanie a few weeks ago. When they’d all been unattached, these games had lasted until three or four in the morning. Abby and Melanie were great, Reese thought, and he knew he couldn’t ask for better sisters-in-law. He was happy for his brothers, but now the Sinclair reputation of devout bachelor-hood lay in the hands of himself and Lucian.
And speaking for himself, Reese thought, it was a reputation he was proud to uphold.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, Bro.” Reese tipped his chair back on two legs while Gabe and Callan pulled on their jackets. “I see you…” he tossed a few more chips into the pile “…and I—”
The door to the office flew open.
“Reese Sinclair, this has got to stop immediately!”
Reese swiveled to look at the woman standing in the doorway.
Sydney Taylor.
Uh-oh.
Sydney’s pale blond hair tumbled around her flushed face and fell in wild waves over the shoulders of the red-plaid cotton bathrobe she wore. She brought the crisp early November night air in with her, and the earthy scent of autumn leaves. In her arms she held Boomer, Reese’s Border collie-terrier-Lab. Boomer was covered with mud. So was Sydney. All the way down to her fluffy brown slippers.
Mud on Sydney Taylor? Definitely a Kodak moment, Reese thought. He wanted to laugh, desperately, but the look of ice-cold fury on Sydney’s face stopped him. She’d murder him if he so much as smiled. Everyone knew that Sydney Taylor could cut a man off at the knees with just a glance. She might be pretty, but she was so damn bossy everyone called her Sydney the Hun. Not to her face, of course. After all, she was the granddaughter of the Honorable Judge Randolph Howland, and that did deserve a certain amount of respect.
Reese glanced at his brothers. Based on their slack jaws, they were obviously just as shocked as he was to see the impeccable Sydney Taylor in her bathrobe, covered with mud, holding a dog in her arms. Somehow, even in her disheveled state, she had an air of royalty.
“Well, if it bothers you that much, Syd—” Reese brought his chair back down on four legs “—the game’s just about over.”
Narrowing eyes the color of blue ice at Reese, Sydney lifted one finely arched eyebrow and pressed her lips tightly together. “You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. Your dog was in my flower bed again.”
Sydney had recently moved into the upstairs apartment of the historic brick building directly across the street from Squire’s Tavern. She’d also rented the store downstairs and had been renovating to open a restaurant. She’d installed a deep-blue awning over beveled glass French doors and created a garden-like entrance. Hence the flowers which Boomer had become so attracted to.
“Are you sure it was my dog?” Reese asked innocently. “I could have sworn I saw Madge Evans’s poodle out earlier.”
“Madge is a responsible pet owner,” Sydney said irritably. “You, on the other hand, are not. This is the fourth time in three weeks I’ve caught Boomer in my flowers. He’s all but ruined my pansies, dug up my bulbs twice and chewed up my chrysanthemums.”
Boomer barked, his guilt sealed when bright yellow petals fell from his jaw. Sydney stalked across the room and dumped the dog on top of the table. Boomer danced excitedly; chips and cards flew. Then Boomer gave a fierce shake of his long black-and-white coat and mud flew, as well. With an oath, Lucian jumped up, wiping at the splattered mud on the front of his white shirt.
Miss Lady Luck had suddenly been replaced by Miss Fortune, alias Sydney Taylor. Reese glanced forlornly at the queens in his hand, sighed, then threw his cards down and swiped at the dirt on his face. Boomer jumped off the table, sat at Reese’s feet and looked up at his master expectantly. The dog’s nose was covered with damp mud.
Reese knew he should be repentant, he really did. But there was just something about Sydney. Something about that haughty, patronizing air of hers that made him want to puff up his chest and bring that cute little chin of hers down a notch or two. Reese glanced at his brothers for a little moral support, but based on the gleam of amusement in their eyes, he was obviously on his own.
Reese stood and looked down at Sydney, considered telling her that she had a slash of dirt across her temple, then thought better of it. “I’ll buy you some more flowers and bulbs.”
Folding her arms tightly, she met his gaze. “What good will it do if your dog keeps digging them up? Need I remind you that my grand opening for Le Petit Bistro is in four weeks?”
Hardly. There was very little in Bloomfield County that everybody didn’t know about everybody else, some of which was even true. Since Sydney had returned three months ago from culinary school in France, the whole town had been talking. Not about the restaurant she was planning to open as much as the reason why she’d left town over a year ago: Sydney had been left high and dry at the altar by Bobby Williams, Head Coach at Bloomfield High School. Bobby had been offered a position at NYU, only he’d neglected to mention the job to Sydney, along with the fact that he’d decided not to get married. At least, not to her. Bobby and Lorna Green, a cocktail waitress from Reese’s tavern, had eloped on their way to New York.
No one had seen Bobby or Lorna since, but there had been talk that Lorna had been looking rather plump around the middle at the time she and Bobby had taken off together.
Reese had certainly never missed Bobby; he’d never liked the egotistical jerk, anyway. But Lorna, though a little dim-witted, had been a good employee, a rare commodity these days. Especially at the moment. With one waitress out on maternity leave, another on vacation, and a new girl who was sweet but couldn’t remember what time to show up for work, the tavern had been in chaos for the past two weeks.
And now Hurricane Sydney had blown in.
Nothing I can’t handle, Reese told himself and gave her his best smile. “I’m really sorry, Syd. It won’t happen again.”
“Spare me the charm.” Sydney rolled her eyes. “I realize that works on most of the women in this town, but it’s wasted on me.”
From any other woman, Reese would have wholeheartedly risen to the challenge. But this was Sydney, for Heaven’s sake. Sydney was starched stiff as a nun’s habit. Going up against Sydney would be sort of like the Titanic taking on the iceberg. And those were icy waters he’d rather not swim in.
Except, at the moment, with her hair all rumpled, dressed in her robe and slippers, Sydney didn’t look quite so starched or quite so stiff. She looked kind of…soft. Soft and cute.
Startled by his thoughts, he looked at her again, saw the rigid lift of her shoulders and tight press of her lips. Geez, what had he been thinking? Sydney Taylor might be an attractive woman, but soft and cute? And those frumpy robe and slippers she had on were not exactly Victoria’s Secret.
“Reese Sinclair, are you listening to me?” Sydney narrowed her eyes. “I’m not leaving here until we settle this once and for all.”
“You could have him destroyed,” Callan offered from the sidelines.
Boomer jumped up and barked shrilly.
With a gasp, Sydney whirled. “I would never harm an animal.”
“Not the dog.” Callan looked offended that Sydney would think such a thing. “I meant Reese.”
The look Sydney gave Callan could have wiped out spring crops. Reese glared at his brothers. He knew they were having a good laugh at his expense. He didn’t even blame them. If the situation were reversed, he’d want a front row seat. With popcorn. But if he was going to go one-on-one with Sydney Taylor, he sure as hell didn’t want an audience. “Weren’t you all just leaving?”
“Not me.” Lucian glanced at the cards still in his hand.
“No hurry.” Gabe started to take his coat back off and Callan followed suit. “We could squeeze in a couple more rounds.”
“Game’s over.” And so’s the show. Reese snatched the cards out of Lucian’s hands, helped Gabe put his coat back on, then shoved all three of his brothers out the door and closed it behind them.
“Okay.” Reese turned and faced Sydney. “Now, where were we?”
“You were about to tell me how you intend to keep your dog inside your own yard and out of my flowers.”
“Oh. Right. Well, here’s the thing.” Reese glanced at the dog, then moved beside Sydney, lowering his voice as he bent his head close to hers. The scent of lavender mixed with something else he couldn’t identify drifted from her skin. He hesitated, not only to appreciate the smell, but because he was surprised. He’d never thought about Sydney smelling so…nice.
Brow furrowed, she frowned at him. “What thing?”
“What? Oh, well, you see, Boomer’s sensitive about being locked up. Ever since I found him out on the highway and brought him home with me, he gets depressed if I try to keep him in.”
Boomer, who heard his name and seemed to understand he was the topic of conversation, lifted his head and th
umped his tail on the floor.
“Depressed?” The tilt of Sydney’s head signified her skepticism. “Maybe he requires more attention than you can give him.”
“Shoot, Boomer gets more attention than a baby with a bonnet. He just can’t stand to be fenced in. He needs to…stretch his legs a little.”
“Gabe just bought the Witherspoon house,” Sydney said matter-of-factly. “That’s five acres of farmland, surrounded by several more acres. Plenty of room for a dog to ‘stretch his legs.’ I’m sure Boomer would be extremely happy there. He can dig to his heart’s content.”
“I couldn’t do that to Boomer. He was already abandoned once when he was a pup. If I just gave him away like that, he wouldn’t understand. He’d think I deserted him.”
She stiffened, then took a step back from him and lifted cool blue eyes to his. “Like Bobby deserted me? Left me standing in my wedding dress to face a crowded church on my own, is that what you’re trying to say?”
Dammit, dammit. That wasn’t what he’d meant at all. “No, Syd, really, I—”
“Forget it, Sinclair. You think you can soften me up with that killer smile of yours and make me feel sorry for your dog, and I’ll just go away. Well, I’m not going away.” She folded her arms. “Life is just one big lark to you, isn’t it, including this bar you run.”
“Hey, now, this is a tavern, not a bar. There’s a big—”
“Maybe you think I’m being petty, or that a few chewed up flowers are irrelevant, but your lack of respect for my property is irresponsible and insensitive.”
“Hey, I’m as sensitive as the next guy,” Reese protested.
“If that next guy happens to be Bobby Williams,” Sydney said, and pointed her chin at him.
That did it. Reese clenched his jaw. He wasn’t anything like Bobby Williams. He’d had enough of Sydney’s insults for one night. He glanced at Boomer. This is the thanks I get for saving your sorry butt. He looked at the table where cards and chips were scattered.
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