by Juliet Burns
“Oomph!” He grimaced as she bumped into him. Her eyes were closed and she obviously hadn’t seen him. What was his excuse?
She grabbed his arms and steadied herself. “Oh, I’m sorry! I wasn’t watching where I—”
He suppressed a shiver as she ran her hands down his arms. His sleeveless sweatshirt offered no protection against the soft caress of her hands on his flesh.
She dragged in a ragged breath, bolted to the sink and stood gazing out the window.
Had he seen tears in her eyes? Without thinking, he followed her. Wait a minute, Malone. She’s already rejected you once.
Still, he was tired of her disdain and their angry truce.
He lowered his face to her hair and inhaled the scent of lemons. He longed to place his lips on the back of her neck. No. He fisted his hands. He wouldn’t touch her. “What’s wrong?” he whispered in her ear.
Now she’d say, “Nothing,” as all women did. Then she’d slyly mention what she really wanted. Probably money.
She turned around, eyes on the floor as she wiped at her cheeks. “It was just that song.” Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. “It’s stupid to cry over a song, isn’t it?” With a choked laugh, she started sobbing.
No, don’t…don’t cry. Don’t lean into me. Don’t you know I can’t help you?
With a frustrated growl, he wrapped his arms around her and let her weep into his shirt. Whispering soothing words, he brushed his hand down the crown of her head and across her shoulders. She was so soft and rounded. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he wanted to feel them in his palms. But she needed comfort now, not lust. He concentrated on keeping his hands on her back and continued murmuring soothing noises.
This wasn’t so bad. This was something he could do, even with a bum leg. She trusted him. Needed him.
When her sobs had run their course, she raised her head and stared at him, her lashes still wet with tears. The contempt usually sparking in her eyes was gone. Only pain and longing softened them now. He leaned down and gently kissed them dry. Hesitant, he pulled back to check her reaction.
Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted in a questioning look.
A fierce desire swept through him, stronger than the need for the fiery liquid he poured down his throat. He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her with all the hunger he’d pent up since she’d first smiled at him. She tasted like strawberries and innocence, and he wanted more. With a low moan, he drew her lips even deeper into his mouth.
She shivered and opened her mouth, and he pushed his tongue in, swirling it around hers and across the inside of her lips. Her arms came around his neck, and she pressed her body close against him. Damn it all to hell! The feel of her soft curves against him was more than he could handle. He lost control.
He swung her around and pushed her against the island, squeezing her soft, generous bottom and grinding his hips against hers.
Oh God, he’d missed a woman’s body! Every night this week, through a drunken haze, he’d dreamed of her in his arms like this. Still kissing her fiercely, he brought his hand up to one beautiful breast.
She jerked her lips from his, flattened her palms against his chest and shoved him away.
He lost his balance and had to take a step back with his good leg, throwing his arm behind him to grab the edge of the sink. Before he could reach for her, she raced from the kitchen and up the stairs.
What the hell had he been thinking? Get it into your thick head, Malone. You’re not the Lone Cowboy anymore. All the buckle bunnies have moved on to the next big rodeo star. No woman was gonna be interested in plain old Mark Malone. A white-trash guy with a mutilated leg, a guy who had betrayed his own family.
Guilt had a way of sucking the passion right out of a person. Audrey paced in her room and berated herself. She was on the same evolutionary scale as pond scum for lying to Mark Malone.
But when Mark had kissed her, she’d responded with an intensity she’d never experienced before. His lips had sparked a trail of fire that had inflamed her entire body. His kisses had awakened her, as if she was finally alive instead of wandering numbly through a sham of a life. His strong arms surrounding her, he’d tenderly kissed her tears away. The concern in his eyes had made her knees weak.
Tonight she’d caught a glimpse of a different man. There had been passion, yes. But there’d also been compassion. Here was the man who had braved five rowdy rednecks to rescue her. She’d not been wrong to hope he was still that man.
Audrey finally went through the motions of preparing for bed, squeezing toothpaste on her brush. Let’s get real here. It was a pity kiss. Poor little fat girl staying at home because no one asks her to dance. Ooh, it hurt to be so honest. And she hated that he’d seen her so vulnerable.
But hadn’t she seen him writhing in the throes of a nightmare, tormented and in deep pain? She’d suspected that underneath the drinking and belligerence, he hid a secret. Something besides the crushed leg had made him give up on life.
That something was what she needed to find out. And the only way she would was by getting him to talk. The hands probably didn’t know, and though John and Helen might, they were too loyal to share Mark’s private demons with her.
But could she betray him now?
She wanted this promotion to staff writer. She was determined to be more assertive, to go after her dreams. The emptiness, the loneliness, of the past few years loomed in her future.
She got into bed. Sleeping was impossible. She was restless. Edgy. Thoughts whirled through her mind. Her emotions were in turmoil. She’d been here almost a week. What was she going to do? Give up on her ambitions just because a handsome cowboy kissed her in a moment of sympathy?
She heard raucous laughter coming from downstairs. Guess the guys were back from town.
Men! It still infuriated her that they smoked and spit and threw their trash all over the place. If they had to play poker why couldn’t they—
Poker! Of course. This way, it would be less of a betrayal and more like a challenge. Mark would have a choice. A simple, winner-take-all game. All she had to do was wait for a winning hand and the right moment, and force him to bet an exclusive interview. It would be a relief to be honest about why she was really there.
She showered and dressed, purposely wearing the one blouse she owned with a low neckline.
Audrey figured she’d need all those acting skills she hadn’t used since her tenth-grade drama class to pull this scheme off. When the men turned to stare at her as she walked into the dining room, she almost lost her nerve. She tried to stop her voice from shaking when she said, “I couldn’t sleep. Mind if I watch?”
A chorus of male voices answered, “Sure!” and, “Yeah!” at the same time. Dalt jumped up to get her a chair from the kitchen.
Mark’s usual scowl grew even darker. Gone was the compassionate man from a few hours ago.
“Oh, thank you.” She sat across from Mark, folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. Her father had taught her that an important tool in winning a poker game was distraction. Might as well use the only asset she had. She was out to win.
She felt the men’s gazes drop to her chest. “I used to play cards with my family when we were younger, and it was really fun.”
With a small sigh of relief, she could tell her ploy was working with predictable ease. Both Dalt and Jim tried to coax her into playing “just a couple of hands.” Pete hadn’t raised his eyes from her chest yet. The lecher.
Thank goodness Ruth wasn’t playing tonight. Audrey knew another woman would have seen straight through her act.
Mark didn’t say a word. He narrowed his eyes and raised a beer bottle to his mouth for a long swallow.
“Well, you’d have to tell me what beats what and all that stuff. Sure you don’t mind?” Don’t overdo it, girl!
Several noes were drowned out by a bellowing “Hell, yes!” Mark slowly lowered his scorching gaze to her chest.
A tense silence hu
ng over the table before Dalt challenged his boss. “Come on, Malone, let her play. What’s the harm?”
Glowering at Dalt, Mark finished his beer and twisted the top off another. Finally, he gave a disgusted snort. “I can’t believe y’all are gonna fall for this Little-Miss-Innocent act.” He shifted his eyes to her and said, “Fine. Join us if you must.”
Audrey pretended to listen intently as Jim explained about two pair and three of a kind. She even went so far as to get a pad from the kitchen and take notes.
Dalt shuffled the deck, slid it over to Mark to cut and then dealt everyone five cards. Audrey picked hers up and kept her face blank as she fanned them out. Two jacks, an ace and two sevens!
Mark opened with five dollars, and everyone stayed except Jim, who folded. Mark then raised five dollars and everyone stayed.
Audrey let go of the ace, hoping for a full house. When she got back a seven, she purposely let her excitement show. Pulling a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket, she raised the stakes and everyone folded.
She played it low-key for a while, and kept them guessing by folding with a fairly good hand or blundering a bluff.
Several hours later, Audrey had a considerable stack of cash sitting in front of her. It was difficult to conceal a triumphant gleam behind a look of innocent amazement at her beginner’s luck. Of course, it helped that all her opponents had been guzzling beer all night.
“Well, that does it for me.” Dalt stood and stretched, throwing in his cards.
One by one, the other men left the table. Jim had said he had to be up early and left around one-thirty. Pete had drifted off soon after that when he ran out of money.
Audrey glanced at the clock. It was after three in the morning and she and Mark were the only players left.
Mark dealt the next hand, and Audrey picked up three queens and two fives. This was the hand she’d been waiting for. As the bidding started, she continually raised the stakes until she knew Mark had bet all the cash he had. Perfect. The time was right.
“I’ll see your ten dollars and raise you, let’s see, um, oh, what the heck, I’m feeling wild. I’ll just throw in this whole big stack of money.” She looked at Mark and gave him her best smile.
Mark leaned forward and glared at her. “I don’t have that much money left.”
No IOUs were allowed. Probably because, Audrey guessed, it would give Mark an unfair advantage.
She took a sip of her iced tea, to wet her suddenly dry throat, and said a little prayer. With a casual wave of her hand, she said, “Well, I guess if you don’t want to fold, you could bet something besides money.”
Audrey saw Mark’s jaw muscle working as he gritted his teeth. His scowl grew menacing. “What do you want?”
She stopped smiling and looked directly into those tormented blue eyes. “I want…” Her gaze slid away, faltering under the guilt.
Say it, Audrey! An exclusive interview. Your life story.
She couldn’t. She couldn’t force the words out. She couldn’t bear to see the look of betrayal in his eyes. He suspected something. But that was just it. He acted like he always expected the worst of people, and she didn’t want to be another person who let him down.
“I want…” she forced her gaze back to his “…you to…stop drinking.” Of course! That’s what she really wanted. For him to be the man he once was. That’s the story she’d write.
His eyes widened. “What?”
She braced herself for the storm. “And shave that god-awful beard!”
Mark slammed his cards on the table and hollered, “What the hell kind of bet is that?”
“Well, if you don’t think you can do it….”
“I can quit drinkin’ any time I want!”
Remembering that day in the barn with the mechanical bull, Audrey took a deep breath, lowered her chin and looked at him with an evil grin. “Come on, Mark. Show your sack!”
She knew what part of the male anatomy this term referred to, and it took all her willpower not to run to her room and lock the door. For one terrifying moment, she thought he might reach across the table and grab her throat with his bare hands. His eyes narrowed to slits and his upper lip curled in a snarl.
He took a deep breath as he slowly composed his expression. Keeping eye contact with her, he leaned back in his chair and one side of his mouth rose in a dangerous imitation of a smile.
That frightened her more than the thought of being found out.
He grabbed his beer and took a long, deliberate swallow before he said quietly, “Let’s see…” He studied the money in the middle of the table. “I calculate you got about seventy-five dollars there. That may be worth taking a razor to my throat, but not giving up my beer. If you want to play for high stakes, you’ll have to offer me something more.”
“W-what do you mean?”
Mark clasped his hands behind his head. He looked smug, as if he sensed her uncertainty. “I’ll see your bet by shaving my beard. And I raise you by pouring out the booze. Now you can see my raise with something I want, or fold.”
“Uh, maybe we shouldn’t….”
“Oh no,” he cut in. “This game just got real interesting.” He narrowed his eyes and jerked his chin. “You started it, you can finish it.”
She was trapped. Surely he didn’t want…. “You, um, want me to go on a diet?”
His eyes smoldered as he slowly shook his head. “I think you know what I want, Audrey. I want you in my bed. Tonight. Now, do you fold? Or play?”
The room began to spin and she couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes to escape those piercing blue ones. She’d come this far. She couldn’t quit now. She had her pride, too.
She opened her eyes and looked at her cards. He couldn’t possibly beat her full house, could he? She straightened her spine, stuck her chin out and looked at him. “Okay.” Her voice wobbled and she cleared her throat. “I call. If I lose, I’ll sleep with you.”
Five
Damn, the woman had spunk! Mark should’ve felt triumphant. He knew his straight flush was practically unbeatable. But she was acting like some sacrificial virgin standing at the edge of a volcano. Is this the only way you can get a woman, Malone? Do you really want her this way? His stomach burned.
What did she really want? Was this because of the kiss in the kitchen? Would she really risk her precious virtue to get him to stop drinking?
He’d wanted her since she’d smiled at him that first morning, her beautiful emerald eyes shining with excitement. But not like this. He had no doubt she’d pay up if she lost. That stubborn tilt to her chin would see her through. But there were tight lines around her mouth, and her eyes were filled with apprehension.
Maybe if he became the Lone Cowboy again, she’d come to him willingly. He wanted her excited, her eyes flaming with passion. His chances of that happening tonight were less than the chances of him ever getting another straight flush.
Who was this force of nature who’d found a way to make him care? He realized he didn’t know anything about her. Not even her last name.
He leaned forward. “What’ve ya got?”
Audrey’s face wavered between smug and worried as she spread her cards. “Full house, queens high.”
Aw, hell. Before he had time to change his mind, he tossed his cards across the table, scattering them. He scowled at Audrey and threatened, “Don’t expect to win the next one, darlin’.”
A week later, Mark was cursing that poker game. Muttering a string of obscenities, he glided the razor up his neck. He’d planned on growing the beard once he sold the ranch. His face was too recognizable without it, and he’d wanted no reminders of his past. Damn it! He threw the razor into the sink and bent over, leaning on one hand. Why had he thrown that game? He’d had her right where he’d wanted her. Jeez, he wanted a beer. No, he wanted her. But a drink would have to do.
Mark strode to the living room, hoping Audrey would see him, daring her to say something. But no one stopped him. He stepped behind the bar,
grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and unscrewed the lid. Closing his eyes, he raised it to his lips. A pair of green eyes filled with contempt and loathing swam before his closed lids. Gonna add welshing on bets to your list of sins, Malone?
To hell with this! He slammed the bottle on the bar and stalked back to his room. Why did he care what she thought of him?
He’d avoided her intense eyes and voluptuous body all week. He barely managed a civil conversation with John, and he refused to alienate Audrey by snarling at her. Thinking of her passion-sated body lying in his rumpled bed was the only thing that made it worth this trouble.
The past week, he’d drunk enough iced tea to piss out a west Texas grass fire. He’d also done a lot of thinking. Looking back on his behavior over the last few weeks was worse than climbing in the chute with a rank bull. Shame filled his throat with bile at the thought of facing everyone. But John was right. He needed to cowboy up and get on with it.
He’d survived worse than a lost career, hadn’t he?
He owed John an apology. He owed John and Helen a lot more than that, but he could never repay them. Just two more on the list of people he’d let down. Mark grabbed the razor from the sink and finished shaving as best he could. He’d go see John now. Before he left his room, he rummaged around in his closet and pulled out his Stetson.
The Lone Cowboy was back.
When Helen opened the door of her small house, Mark could smell bacon frying. He stood a moment before he remembered and took off his hat.
“Mark! Come on in.” Though she recovered quickly, Mark had noticed her eyes widen in shock when she first saw him. “What are you doing here so early? Is everything okay?” Helen motioned him in, linking her arm through his as they walked toward the kitchen. He glimpsed a faint smile of approval.
“Fine. Is John busy?”
Helen squeezed his arm and beamed at him. “He’s in the kitchen. Come on back and I’ll get you some coffee.”