In the Cards
by Cynthia Selwyn
Breathless Press
Calgary, Alberta
www.breathlesspress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
In the Cards
Copyright© 2011 Cynthia Selwyn
ISBN: 978-1-926930-41-1
Cover Artist: Dara England
Editor: Stephanie Parent
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.
Breathless Press
www.breathlesspress.com
Chapter One
When Zach O’Connor walked past a group of women, the world ended. And here, at a convention for women whose sole joy in life was to create the ultimate romantic hero, the world ended in chaos.
Romance writer Alexandrea Taylor stood beside a potted palm and watched her oldest and best male friend create pandemonium simply by striding toward her, with a smile on his perfect face and tight, faded blue jeans clinging to his perfect butt.
His battered black Stetson fit just so, highlighting the vivid blue of his eyes. His cowboy boot heels clicked, the sound growing louder as excited convention-goers’ conversations sputtered into stunned silence.
Suitcases tipped when their owners gave up balancing them to watch him pass. Folders of carefully organized papers slipped from limp fingers to sprawl open, contents skidding across the floor. Handbags slid off weakened shoulders with thuds; tubes of lipstick, compacts, and pens clattered onto the floor. Coins clinked and rolled under lobby tables and chairs.
By the time Zach reached Alex, the floor was littered with personal items, and romance writers were drooling like diabetics in a chocolate factory.
Ignoring the devastation he’d created, he dropped his duffle at her feet, tossed his saddle —his saddle, for Christ’s sake—on one of the hotel chairs and pulled her into his arms. “Alex! Yo, sweet stuff, how’s it hanging?”
“Not at all, thanks. I’m hang free.” Alex tried hard to ignore the scent of him — leather, horse, and warmth—and the feel of his manly, day’s-end scruff. Tucked in his embrace, she felt heat flush down one side of her body and up the other, centering in her female bits where it sat, simmering in its usual useless anticipation. She tried to ignore the stares of her colleagues, as well. Unsuccessful on both counts. She slipped out of his grasp. “Trust you, Zach O’Connor, to bring the United Romance Writer Organization’s well-oiled machinery to a grinding halt.”
He winced under his hat. She noticed that several years of cowboy-ing, sun, and age had put tiny wrinkles in the corners of those engaging blue peepers.
Not that you could really see them through the camouflage of his thick black eyelashes.
It really wasn’t fair for all that gorgeousness to go to one person. God had been working overtime the day He made Zach.
“Should I turn and look? Is it that bad?”
Alex peered around his shoulder. Recovered convention-goers were now whispering as they stared. “It’s worse. Turn and wave or something, so they can stop ogling your butt.”
Obediently, Zach did: he turned and—oh, God, no, not that—touched his hand to the brim of his cowboy hat. He nodded. “Afternoon, ladies,” he drawled, silky smooth and sexy enough to cause a girl to come on her feet. His spurs cha-chinged as he turned to peer down at Alex. “How’s that?”
“Useless.” She shook her head. “They’re going to have to call maintenance to mop up the drool.”
“Stop being dramatic. Where’s our room?” He bent and grabbed the horn of his saddle, hefting it over one of his broad shoulders as if it weighed nothing.
She felt the sighs of three hundred romance writers brush against her skin like a summer breeze. Dear God. Make him stop. “I’m dramatic? You’re the one wearing spurs.”
He lifted his foot and turned his ankle to look. “Oh. Yeah. I forgot.”
He forgot. Of course he did. And elephants could fly. “You sound like a gunfighter in a bad Western when you walk. I hope you’re not using them on Stars.” Alex hefted up his duffle bag, staggering under its weight. “Holy mackerel. You didn’t stuff Stars in here, did you? You do realize they don’t allow horses in the rooms?”
Zach snorted. “Ha ha. Let’s go. I want a shower.”
She started for the room, questioning the wisdom of asking Zach to create a workshop for cowboy-romance writers. At the time, it had seemed like a great idea. She’d just finished reading yet another book where the author made a horse sound like a motorcycle, and it had driven her crazy.
Research, people. It’s all in the research.
So she’d e-mailed Zach, and the rest was history. One member of the conference committee owned a farm and volunteered her barn and riding ring for the workshop, and the space for Zach’s horse. Zach—whom she hadn’t seen since Christmas—was available and willing to help out. And the attendees were ready to dish out any fees for this special off-site workshop.
The only glitch in the plan was the shortage of rooms at the hotel. She and Mr. Incredibly Gorgeous but Terribly Annoying had to share an executive suite at a reduced rate.
Darn. A bigger room, a lesser rate, and time spent with an old friend. It was hardly a glitch at all; more like a bonus.
At least that had been her attitude until an hour ago, when her editor had sprung a new project on her. Something dangerously new. Embarrassingly new, even. And asked her for a quick plot summary by the end of the weekend, complete with character information for the marketing department. If only she wasn’t such a stickler for research…if only she couldn’t help but imagine Zach was her hero, too.
Zach followed Alex to the room they’d share, watching the sway of her hips. She was being snarky, which meant she was nervous about something: being friends since junior high meant he knew most of her moods as well as he knew his own. He wondered what had her so upset and hoped it wasn’t something he’d done. Like create a cyclone effect in the lobby of the hotel.
He didn’t ask women to respond to him the way they did. It was embarrassing, truth be told. He could trust Alex to treat him as a human being and not as an object, which was why he liked being around her so much. More than liked, he admitted to himself. Lusted. So often, he needed to clench his hands so he didn’t reach out and touch her.
Today she looked so worried, like he was about to bite her. Was it because they were rooming together? They’d never done that before, though they’d shared hotels. But she was practically engaged. Even though he wished he could bite and nibble her up one side and down the other, then settle in to suck and feast and…well, whatever…he wouldn’t destroy her relationship with Tim. The guy was a snake, but she loved him. And he gave her a home and a sense of family, which was more than Zach could do right now.
Still…he got onto the elevator beside her, unable to stop himself from imagining how it would be to lock her in their hotel room and have his way with her. He’d start at her earlobes, then work his way down her neck to her collarbone, undo the buttons of her blouse, one at a time. With his teeth. He’d slide her bra away, spend some time slowly licking the curve of each of her rounded breasts with just the tip of his tongue, making her squirm.
He wondered if the soft globes were as generous as they appeared. Were they firm and high or soft and bouncy? Did she have large nipples or small ones? Dark red or soft pink? No matter what she had, he’d spend time licking and suckling
at one breast, while toying with the other. Then he’d switch, taking his time, paying attention to each of her luscious tits, until she couldn’t stand it anymore. He’d make her so crazy she’d rake her nails over his shoulder, begging for more than a teasing touch.
Then he’d very slowly, one inch at a time, slide his tongue along her belly, taking his time before he reached her juicy, hot little cleft and— Whoa. Stop right there, cowboy. Before you can’t walk anymore. Moron. He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall of the elevator, using his saddle to hide the erection straining the front of his jeans. Damn. He saw her a few times a year, and every time it got more difficult not to disclose his feelings—or his desire—for her. He needed a distraction. “How’s Tim?”
There. Nothing to douse his arousal like thoughts of her almost fiancé. Lucky man. Asshole.
“He’s okay, I guess,” she answered in a muted tone.
“Good.” Who cares? Zach tried not to notice the way her caramel-colored hair tumbled about her shoulders, the way her amber eyes shone, the way she ran her tongue over her pink lips. Oh God. Please don’t lick your lips. You’re killing me. He bit the inside of his cheek and recited the Gettysburg Address in his head. Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation…
The elevator door opened and she stepped out. He followed behind, watching the sway of her rounded hips, observing the sweet curve of her ass and thighs. He could imagine pressing his face against her soft cheeks as she bent naked before him, and nipping her bottom until she— No! Dammit…conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Zach decided his first order of business wasn’t just a shower, but an ice-cold one. And then...maybe another.
He stopped close behind Alex at the door to their room. The sweet smell of her shampoo wafted up to tickle his nose. He wanted to lower his face to the nape of her neck and inhale. Instead, he watched as she swiped the key card and the light on the handle turned green. She opened the door and led him inside. “Here. Um…you can pick whichever bed you want.”
Yours, darlin’. He wished his cowboy charm worked on her as well as it did on the women in the lobby.
But if it worked, then who would she be? Would she still be his best female friend? His only female friend? Who didn’t goggle and fall apart because he was cursed with something that women appeared to crave? He loved the way he could be himself around her most of all. So, if he gave in to his lust, then he’d lose the only woman he could actually talk to without worrying she wanted him only for his looks and for sex. Of course, fifteen years of lusting after a woman who didn’t lust after you got old after a while. “What about Stars? Who’s doing the nighttime feed? You going back to the barn?” Alex dropped the key card on the desk.
“Actually, the barn manager offered to take care of him for me. I did the setup; she’ll just pour it into his feed tub when she takes care of the rest of the horses.” He allowed himself to reach out and tweak a lock of her hair. It felt like silk in his fingers.
“I have to go to dinner with my editor and a bunch of other Heart Throb writers. I can ask if you can join us if you’d like. Or you can get room service if you just want to stay here and hang out.” She jerked her hair from his grasp, winced at the slight pull, and gave him a cranky look. A cute cranky look.
Zach swallowed and turned to one of the beds, imagining the luxury of lying there, remote in one hand, cold beer in the other, ESPN on the screen. Tempting. Even more tempting: Alex lying beside him.
Never gonna happen. Still, he could imagine how it would feel to have her curled up into him, with her head resting on his shoulder and her hand idly drawing across his bare belly, moving slowly toward… Zach shook himself. “I’ll stay here.”
She grinned. “You’re so predictable. I knew you’d say that.” She turned away.
Not as predictable as you think, sweetheart. He placed his saddle pommel-down against the wall near the desk, picked the bed closest to the window and tossed his duffel bag on it. Then he took off his hat, sailing it across the room to the desk, where it landed half on, half off a box. Alex’s eyes flickered that way, and he was surprised to see her face flush a bright pink.
What was up with that?
She moved quickly across the room, lifted his hat and tucked the box under her arm. Practically under her shirt. What didn’t she want him to see?
“You should go look at the bathroom. It’s over there.” She gestured with her pointed little chin. “The tub is huge. In fact, the Olympic swim team called. They need a place to practice laps.”
“Right.” He wasn’t about to let her off that easily. Not when she turned that shade of pink. “Whatcha got there?”
“Nothing.”
Damn if she didn’t turn even pinker. He moved across the room and held out his hand for the box, wiggling his fingers. “Give it.”
“It’s nothing!” she protested and thrust it behind her back, out of his sight but not out of his reach. “Oh, yes, it is. Give, chica.” He violated one of his own self-imposed Alex rules and put his arms around her, too intrigued by her embarrassment about the box to care at the way his body reacted to her closeness. “Lemme see.”
“It’s nothing!” she protested again, leaning back so that her breasts thrust up toward his face—so-help-him-God. When her shirt rose, exposing the skin of her belly, he couldn’t help but notice it was smooth and milky white.
His mouth watered. He wanted to fall to his knees and stroke the silken skin with his lips. Oh…Alex. If only you knew how much I wanted you...
She ducked away, but he managed to grab the box anyway, slipping it from her tenuous grasp and reading the looping pink letters on the box aloud. “Love in the Cards. A fun foreplay game…what the…Alex, what the hell is this?” He couldn’t help the slightly accusatory note in his voice as a flush of jealousy went through him at the thought of his friend playing a fun foreplay game with her asshole—er, boyfriend.
She sat down on one of the beds and perched on the edge of the mattress with her hands tucked between her knees. Her hair fell around her lowered head, shielding her face. “My editor gave it to me,” she answered in a voice so low he could barely hear it. “She wants me to work on a new project this weekend.”
He sat on the edge of his own bed. “What project?”
Chapter Two
“A historotica.”
“A…what?” His fingers itched to lift the lid off the box and peer inside. Instead, he dropped it on the nightstand. The smugly satiated naked couple on the front of the box—under the pink letters—pissed him off. It might as well be her and…Tim.
And why should The Asshole be satisfied, while Zach’s balls were turning blue?
“Historotica: a combination of the words ‘historical’ and ‘erotica.’ You know. I write historicals, and apparently, my books sell better than any of Heart Throb’s other authors’. So they decided I was the one they wanted to write their debut book for their new line.” She lifted her topaz eyes to his. “I write sweet romances! My characters barely kiss, for crying out loud. And if they do, there’s no tongue.” She jumped to her feet and began pacing. “My heroines are virgins!” She flapped her arms. “Why me?”
Zach bit his lip. She sounded as if she’d been asked to drink poison. Sex with Tim had to be excruciating if she was that upset. Good. “So she gave you the box for…?”
Alex drew in a breath; her shoulders rose. “Because they have a wonderful idea.” She rolled her eyes, then closed them tightly. “Open the box and I’ll explain. See, it’s a sex aid.”
Great. Now he wanted to drop the thing, and kick it under the bed for the maid to find. But he got the box off the nightstand and opened it to see a deck of cards, a small bottle, a few candles, and a rainbow of five or six silky-looking handkerchiefs. “It looks like a magic kit.”
“Ha. I wish.” She fell back onto the bed, throwing her forearm across her eyes. “Then I
could disappear.”
He grinned at her discomposure and pulled out the deck of cards. They looked like tarot cards, sort of. Except…he looked at the top one. A nude blonde hoisted her voluptuous breasts suggestively at the viewer. “The Queen of…Cups. Huh. Bad pun.”
Alex groaned from under her arm. “It gets worse. Look at the back of the card.”
“Lick and suck around your partner’s nipples until they beg for more…what the…” Zach’s mouth grew dry, and his cock just grew. The damn card described his fantasy to a T.
“Horrific, isn’t it?” She sat down and crossed her legs. He wondered why. Was she being modest? Was she imagining Tim as her lover?
Or was she imagining him licking and sucking around her nipples? Was she crossing her legs because the thought of having her breasts tongued made her grow wet just as it made his dick grow hard?
Shit.
He dropped the card as if it burned, reaching for the bottle instead. It wasn’t much better. “Hotflash Massage Oil. Heats instantly.” Yikes. “Are the candles for dripping hot wax onto your partner’s…um…hot spots?” Oh. Yeah. Burn Tim. One ball at a time. Sizzle.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. The handkerchiefs are for bondage and blindfolds.” Alex unclenched her body and sat up. There was a red crease on her cheek from the seam of her sleeve. “There were edible panties, too, but my editor ^^^scarfed^^^ (too slangy?) those.”
Zach raised his eyebrows. “Too bad. I’m hungry.” Idiot. He winced.
“Shut. Up.” Alex said, her voice tight and hoarse. She didn’t look at him but stared up at the ceiling. “So their wonderful idea is to set the story in an Old West brothel. I’m supposed to create a hero who draws a card from the pack for his ‘fortune’ or whatever I want to call it.”
“Swe-e-e-t... So, for example, he’d get his nipples licked?” Zach pulled the scarves out and separated them. Six. Two for the wrists, two for the ankles, one for the eyes and an extra. A type of gag, maybe? Intriguing. He tried not to imagine tying Alex up and failed.
In The Cards Page 1