High Stakes: A Texas Heat Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  He caught himself sinking again. Time to change the topic.

  “So is there a story behind the name Juliet?” he asked, mostly in a teasing way, trying to send a flow of something cool and calming through his veins.

  She stared at him a moment longer then gave him a small smile. “Actually, yes, sort of,” she said, to his surprise.

  “Ooh, well since I told you mine, it’s only fair…,” he probed.

  “Not nearly as interesting as yours. Just boring intellectualism.”

  “One man’s boredom is another man’s respite from the norm,” he said loftily.

  She gave him an assessing look. “That’s oddly profound.”

  “This onion has many layers, sweetheart,” he said dipping his spoon for another scoop of ice cream.

  She laughed, then brought it back down a notch giving him a tilted glance, biting her bottom lip. “You know what, Chance? I think I really like you.”

  “You know what, Juliet? I’ve liked you since the moment I first saw you.”

  Pleased embarrassment: Lips pressed together in suppressed delight; eyelids cast downward; a slightly reddish hue to that bronze skin. All very good signs.

  “So, the story of your name?” he prodded.

  “Ah, yes,” she said, perking up. “Well, it can really be only one thing right? I mean, how many famous Juliets throughout history do you know of?”

  It took him a moment before he got the correct reference. “So your parents have a thing for Shakespeare?”

  Juliet looked thoughtful for a moment. “My mother mostly. She’s a literature professor. My dad is a chemistry professor, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he goes on and on about everything but chemistry. Honestly, I think mostly my parents just wanted names that wouldn’t red flag our resumes as adults.”

  Chance laughed. “Well, on that count, you definitely have me beat.”

  Juliet gave a soft smile. “Maybe in terms of names,” she said raising an eyebrow at him. “In other ways you definitely have me beat.”

  Chance raised his eyebrows, ceding the point to her. “Speaking of which, what do you do?”

  “I’m a professor at Rice University. I teach statistics. I’m on sabbatical this upcoming semester though. I’m supposed to be writing a paper that may turn into a book.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Do you really want me to bore you with it?”

  “Try me.”

  “Weather patterns and the bee population. It’ll probably be used mostly as a guide for insurance companies and the agricultural industry, trying to predict what the effect on farming will be. I probably should have gone with something sexier or flashier like my dad suggested, but at least this one will be cited often enough. Can’t mess around when it comes to tenure.”

  “Playing it safe, right?”

  She squinted her eyes at him as though searching for the taunt there. “What? Are you like my dad? You think maybe I should have picked politics or crime or sex? Maybe become the Cornell West of statistics?”

  “I’m not sayin’ anything at all.”

  Juliet backed down, realizing she was projecting. “At least I found a profession that fits with the way my mind works.”

  “Do you like it?”

  She blinked as though the idea had never occurred to her. “Well…yes? I suppose. It just makes sense doesn’t it? How many people fit so perfectly into their chosen professions?”

  “That wasn’t a yes.”

  “Most people don’t love what they do, Chance.”

  He thought about his old profession playing poker. Did he love it? He certainly missed it, and was definitely good at it.

  “At any rate, I think I’m the only one of my sisters who got the short end of the stick when it came to names.”

  “Juliet is nice,” he responded, perfectly fine with the circle back around to calmer waters.

  “Well, they got Beatrice and Viola.”

  Chance winced. “Sounds like you actually got the long end of the stick there. Juliet is by far the best out of three.”

  “Until you realize how the tale ends,” she pointed out, then gave a dramatic sigh, placing the back of her hand against her head. “I’m the only tragedy in the family.”

  “I suppose that depends on your thoughts about true love,” Chance said.

  He wasn’t surprised to see Juliet’s hand fall into her lap, where it fiddled with the other. Her eyes drifted downward and to the left. Her mouth pursed into a twist to the side. The up and down of her chest quickened ever so slightly.

  Careful there, cowboy.

  He was doing himself no favors here. Juliet was a fine woman, but he had no business trying to make this a permanent thing. This morning, his intent had been a nice little diversion for the weekend, someone to think back on during his time back at the rig, maybe even visit occasionally when he had his two weeks off in the future.

  Now, she was skipping leaps and bounds straight into the territory of “something special.” He just couldn’t help himself. Each moment with her kept drawing him further and further in.

  On the other hand, was that so terrible? Maybe he deserved something special. He thought about the rig and everything that had led up to him working on it. He’d put in enough time, paid enough dues, done enough atoning for his “sins.” Maybe it was time to open himself up to something good.

  He gave Juliet an assessing look, wondering how she would feel about him if she knew everything about him.

  “What do you say we get outta here?”

  She looked up at him with bright-eyed anticipation, those lips parting ever so slightly, and that chest most definitely increasing its pace.

  “Okay.”

  6

  Chance was a very lucky man.

  There was a near 100% probability that Juliet was going to sleep with him by the end of the night, something she never did on first—or first and one-quarter—dates.

  It went against all the odds, at least based on Juliet’s past dates. Chance was right, he was nothing like the men she’d dated in the past. They’d all been doctors and lawyers and professors and insert-other-white-collar-job-here types with whom she’d waited the appropriate amount of time before giving up the goods.

  Maybe that’s what made it so easy for her libido to take the wheel right now. Chance was different. She couldn’t tell if it was because he would be so easy to move on from—when she returned to her usual “safe” prototype—or because he would be so difficult to move on from.

  There was also a lot of hard evidence backing that libido up. The first being that this was the best date she’d been on in a long time, if ever. Butterflies and ice cream. She wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it was.

  The fact that they were now sitting in a hotel pretty much cemented the deal. It contributed to the current 97% probability that, yes, sex would most definitely happen.

  And it wasn’t just any hotel, but the ZaZa, one of the ritziest hotels in town (definitely a firm 5% of that 97%).

  Juliet rewound the past 24 hours in her head and analyzed every scenario, interaction, statement, look, touch, factor, and variable that had led up to this point.

  There was the moment she had first met Chance, standing so close to her that she could smell his aftershave (3% there. Juliet had always had a weakness for men who smelled nice).

  Then there was the body underneath that button up shirt and jeans, combined with that absolutely killer face (A bona fide 15%).

  Then she had let slip the part about the butterfly center last night. In retrospect, it may not have been such a slip-up after all (10%).

  Then she’d blurted out her name. That didn’t mean much, except to diminish any probability that poor Simon would be getting any action (N/A).

  Singing during spin class (5%, mostly from the endorphins).

  Coffee with Shayla who she knew would prod her into doing something about this (5%, mostly because her friend was a firm proponent of sex on the first date).


  The white dress Juliet had picked out this morning, which was one of her better ones. It was certainly too nice for her average Saturday routine of running errands, getting a Chipotle burrito, and indulging in some random Netflix marathon (7%. She knew exactly what she was doing when she chose it).

  Then, she’d gone to the butterfly center and Chance was there (20% mostly from…kismet?).

  And that kiss, oh that kiss (that was a 10%-chance-of-getting-laid kiss if ever there was one).

  They were conveniently located near Rice Village, where the chocolate was (7%, let’s not ignore the obvious metaphor with that tasty treat).

  And here they were at the Hotel ZaZa, so conveniently located nearby. It had a very nice bar where a couple could sit and have a few drinks, lubricating her sensibilities just enough so that final 10% could slide right on in.

  Of course, that final 10% was statistically insignificant by that point. If an 87% chance wasn’t enough to get a man laid, either something was very wrong with him or something was very wrong with her.

  They were waiting for their drinks in the Monarch Restaurant & Lounge.

  Waiting to see where the day took them….

  Juliet felt Chance looking at her that way again. It was more a feeling than anything, a sudden calm in his demeanor as he studied her. She felt it running through every nerve in her body, making her feel anything but calm. It made her feel…heated.

  Perhaps this was how animals actually went about it during mating season. Maybe it had nothing whatsoever to do with seasons or environment or rituals. Maybe it was nothing more than pure intuition that they had found the one that they were just ready to get it on with.

  Marvin Gaye began crooning in her head.

  Let’s get it on….

  A quick, nervous laugh escaped her lips.

  “What is it?” Chance asked with a curious grin.

  “Just my mind working overtime as usual,” she said, shaking her head with a smile.

  The waiter came by with their drinks.

  Juliet sipped her champagne gratefully.

  “So you’re into numbers?” Chance asked idly.

  It was as if he knew the topic would instantly put her at ease. Juliet could talk numbers all day long. She nodded in response.

  “Do you actually play blackjack?”

  “Oh God no, gambling is a sucker’s—” she stopped when she realized what she was about to say. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean….”

  Chance just gave an easy laugh. “It’s fine, and you’re right. For most people gambling is a sucker’s game.”

  Something about the way he said it told Juliet that he was relieved she didn’t gamble.

  “Mostly, I just like playing around with stats. Like baseball for example. Do you watch?”

  “Can’t say that I do. Moves a bit too slowly for my taste.”

  “Mmm,” She said nodding. “There are two types of fans. People who love it for the sport and people who love it for the numbers, like me.”

  “So you don’t root for a team?”

  She gave him a disparaging look. “Just because I’m a nerd doesn’t mean I’m not loyal. Slugger Fever all the way. Astros too, but the Sluggers are just more interesting, statistically speaking.”

  Chance had an attentive look on his face, but something told her it was her passion in the topic, not the topic itself that held him captive.

  It made the bubbles that gurgled down her throat pop with even more exuberance. Champagne more than any other drink went straight through her veins on a direct route to her head, making her analytical mind go soft and pliable.

  Right then and there, she was ready to go ahead and give him a full 100% shot.

  They were on their second round of drinks. Chance seemed completely unaffected by his bourbon, with his steady, intense focus on Juliet.

  Her champagne was having the exact opposite effect on her. It didn’t help that the only other contents of her stomach were candybar-filled ice cream and a caramel macchiato.

  Chance now had this delightful haze to him. She wondered what his kiss would taste like. Would there be hints of bourbon and coffee ice cream? It made him look all the more delicious.

  “Why don’t you play poker anymore?” she asked easily, trying to bring the conversation around to something he had an interest in.

  The steadiness of his gaze turned into something sharp and almost feral, darkening the color of his eyes ever so slightly.

  The look softened a bit when he realized that she was just making conversation. He gave a small chuckle and took a long sip of his bourbon before answering.

  “Let’s just say, I became the sucker.”

  “Did you lose a lot?” she asked, her brain functioning too slowly behind her mouth to let her know how tactless the question was.

  “You could say that,” he said ambiguously, but his eyes darkened even more into something stormy. They transitioned from that calm grayish blue into more of a darker color.

  Juliet wanted more than anything to bring him out of that funk. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to feel every inch of those muscles underneath that shirt and jeans. She wanted him to fuck her silly.

  She finished the rest of her champagne and leaned in, resting a hand on his thigh.

  “What do you say we get outta here?”

  God, that was so bold! She never acted this forward with a man.

  Instantly those dark, gray stormy clouds, cleared into blue-gray, calm waters.

  “Sounds fine by me.”

  7

  Somewhere near the middle of her first glass of champagne, Chance had read all the signals and had a pretty good idea where the night would be going.

  The way she crossed and uncrossed her legs, letting that hem slide up just a little further each time. The glacial, but very evident, way her body inched closer to his. The gleam in her eyes that outshone even the champagne-induced glaze. She had a million different tells, all pointing in one direction.

  Chance took her arm as she slid off her stool. It was less him being a gentleman than simply wanting to feel that smooth skin underneath his calloused fingers. That subtle bit of feminine touch did more to get his blood flowing than even the thought of pure sex.

  She reached around with her other hand to place it on his bicep, moving in close to him as they headed out of the lounge.

  “So, your place or mine?” she asked, with that husky hint to her teasing voice.

  “How’s about we stay right here?”

  The sobriety came rushing back in her face with sharp clarity. “Here?”

  “No, planet Mars,” he teased. “‘Course here. You deserve the best.”

  That softened her sharp look a bit, but she was still wary. “But it’s so—”

  “Perfect,” he finished for her.

  “Oh Chance, I don’t—”

  “Then don’t. Just let me.”

  He led her toward the front desk, before she could argue any further. It was completely stupid, considering his financial circumstances.

  As the bright-eyed woman behind the counter greeted them, he turned and took one look at those straight, brown shoulders bared by the straps of her white dress and Chance knew Juliet was absolutely worth it.

  There was a definite unsteadiness to her step and a happy but glazed look in her eyes as they made their way to the elevators. She even threw in a damn hiccup like something out of a cartoon, just for good measure.

  Chance wasn’t above admitting that he had been more than happy to entertain a woman or two whose morals had been loosened up by one too many cosmos or Budweisers.

  Somehow he felt Juliet deserved better than that. All the same, he couldn’t very well let her go right now. She was obviously in no condition to drive.

  Chance found the whole thing absurdly amusing. When had he become such a damn white knight?

  Never mind that he had absolutely no desire to let her get away from him anytime soon.

  Never mind that he ki
nd of enjoyed the idea of wondering what Juliet looked like when she slept.

  Never mind that there was always hope for the next morning before checkout….

  Maybe he could even order room service and soak up some of that bubbly.

  When the doors opened he led her in.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she said with a lazy smile. She looked at him with such a seductive stare that he momentarily thought about kicking every chivalrous tendency to the curb and taking her right there in the damn elevator.

  Then the doors closed behind them, and he found he didn’t have to worry about being such a gentleman after all. It seemed to wake something up in her and she leaned into him, pressing her hands up against his chest.

  Chance read blatant signs all over her face. It reminded him of that scene in Gone With The Wind, a movie his mother had watched ad nauseam, much to the complaint of her two sons. It was the part where Rhett claimed Scarlett needed to be kissed and kissed often. Despite Scarlett’s protests, she had immediately closed her eyes, parted her lips and let her head fall back, more than happy to accept Rhett’s advances.

  Juliet had no such protests, and Chance was more than happy to offer his own advances. He bent down to kiss those parted lips. She tasted like candy and ice cream with a hint of champagne. It wasn’t the worst flavor in the world, especially tracing those particular lips.

  “Mmmm,” she hummed under his mouth, pressing even closer into him.

  The doors announced the elevator’s arrival on their floor and Juliet pulled away from him. She stood there looking up at him with that lazy smile before they exited. He held his arm around her waist as they walked at a slightly urgent pace to the room and he stuck the key in the slot.

  “Why don’t we order up something to eat?” he offered as he opened the door. Perhaps that would induce enough sobriety in her to make him feel a bit less guilty about where the little brain in his pants wanted the night to go.