9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  “Ella’s hair grows in a circle behind her ear. She has a freckle on her thigh.” Grayson uttered, and just like bugs to a light, the room of people swooped in on top of me. Sure enough, she has a freckle and for the time being, that was the only way I could tell them apart.

  The group left us while they went for dinner. We were alone and down to our new life as parents.

  A few days later, we were home with the babies and all of the anticipation of their births behind us.

  I loved how Grayson embraced fatherhood. He would change diapers, burp, and cuddle the babies, and I even secretly videoed him singing songs and dancing with them in the nursery.

  After bathing both babies, we were each holding one and sitting on the couch together as a family.

  “I’ll put them to bed, you just rest here, sweetheart,” he said as he took Ella from my arms and headed for the nursery. He loved to spend every second of the night with them, since he was gone from them during the day.

  I went to the kitchen to wash up the dinner dishes, when I heard him singing a lullaby over the baby monitor. I paused for a moment and just listened to him love them with his heart and soul. After a few minutes, I finished the dishes and headed for the laundry room. The house suddenly seemed very quiet and peaceful.

  I walked into the nursery to check on them and found Grayson sound asleep in the rocker, still holding both babies. His song worked for his own sleepy time, but Paige was just watching his face with her big blue eyes.

  My eyes misted over at the amazing site of them. My life couldn’t be any better, I’d been truly blessed.

  I finally understood what two sides of a heartbeat really meant.

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  As I ponder my thoughts for this note, the song I picked for the book trailer is playing in the background of my office. That song, “My Confession,” by Rie Sinclair and Friends, is beautiful and so moving to me.

  I love to write while listening to music and want to say thank you to the talented musicians whose songs inspire me to write: Keaton Simons, Shinedown, Rie Sinclair, David O’Dowda, Skullage, Jamey Johnson, Phil Collins, Angie Miller, Sarah Simmons and Madilyn Bailey. I wore your music out during this writing.

  Mercy Pilkington and the folks at Author Options, I adore you! Your support, business acumen, and structure are completely immeasurable. I am in awe of your talents, your guidance, and beyond grateful for your patience.

  To my circle of friends: BH, MP, NF, STC, JT, CG, JT, Dr. T and his women, you know who you are and hopefully, what you mean to me!

  My cover model, girl, you got it! That’s all I can say! I appreciate your willingness to go the distance for that final pose! On cue, David Quisenberry of www.davidquisenberry.com was able to catch the perfect shot!

  Rob and Benton, you are my world. You both make me smile every day, even if you are picking at me for pulling a dumb-blonde moment! Thank you for ordering pizza, eating take-out and batching-it while I completely ignored you, so that I could write! I love how you humor me, allowing me to run ideas past you until I get them right. I love you both more than you will ever know.

  To the one reading these words, yup you, hello there. Thank you for picking up a copy of Two Sides of a Heartbeat. I hope you enjoy the continuing story of Alexandra and Grayson’s romantic journey. I appreciate your feedback and welcome your comments. Please reach out to me!

  Sleight of Heart

  High-Stakes Heroes

  by Jacquie Rogers

  Sleight of Heart

  By Jacquie Rogers

  Copyright 2013 Jacquie Rogers

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Silverton, Colorado

  June 13, 1883

  “You will, too, marry my sister!”

  The second bullet whistled by his ear. Burke O’Shaughnessy hit the dirt and scrambled behind a boulder. “Pardon me, ma’am,” he hollered, hoping she’d listen to reason. He brushed the dust off his new maroon-striped vest. “I just want to talk to you.”

  He peeked around the boulder. The woman was pretty as a royal flush, but her cheeks showed high color and fire sparked from her eyes. He could tell she was a might perturbed.

  “And I want my money back, Patrick O’Shaughnessy!” She raised the rifle to her shoulder and added, “You’ve done enough harm to Helen and me, you thieving rat.”

  Burke ducked behind the rock. That answered one question—his brother had been there, all right. He took off his hat and waved it. “Ma’am, I’m not Patrick.”

  She shot a hole through his Stetson. “You sure enough look like him!”

  “Well, I’m not,” he yelled. He leaned back on the boulder and inspected the hole in his brand new three-dollar hat, thankful the bullet missed his lucky hundred-dollar bill tucked in the liner. At least she’d finally said something that made sense. “He’s my brother. I’m trying to find him.”

  “He’s obviously not here.”

  Smart man, Burke thought. He hunkered down when another bullet ricocheted off the top of the rock. “Come on, ma’am, just talk to me. He might be hurt.”

  “Ha!”

  “Tell you what. Invite me in for a glass of lemonade, and I’ll straighten everything out. Deal?”

  “Water is all you get. I’ll talk to you under one condition.”

  “Anything. Just tell me what you want.”

  “Bring Patrick back here to marry my sister.”

  Burke gulped. He broke out in a cold sweat and he prayed to the Great Card Shark in the Sky. He wouldn’t force his brother to be leg-shackled unless he chose to—and Burke knew damned good and well that Patrick had more sense than that. Besides, this crazy woman would probably kill him.

  “Well?” she yelled.

  He cleared his throat. “All right.” He’d talk her out of her silly notion later, but first, he needed more information. “I’ll bring him back. Will you let me stand up without perforating me?”

  He peeked around the boulder. She stood stiff as a new poker deck while she aimed the damned rifle square at his head. Her dark hair was pulled back into a prim bun and she wore a somber gray frock. A pity—such beauty as hers deserved a gown of the latest fashion. He envisioned her belle of a fancy ball, her eyes sparkling as she smiled flirtatiously at the numerous gentlemen begging her to dance. He shook off his reverie.

  “I’ll give you one glass of water and five minutes.” Her gray skirts flared as she pivoted, lowered her weapon, and marched into the house. At least he didn’t have to look down the end of a rifle barrel anymore.

  He whistled low, enjoying her hip action, then he stood, stretched, and dusted himself off before following her. After he clambered the rest of the way up the loose rock of talus slope to the mining shack, he took off his hat and knocked on the door. She swung it open, a scowl marring her loveliness. He followed obediently, enjoying the view.

  “Sit down,” she ordered, using her rifle to point at a chair on the other side of the table. After he sat, she set the bead on him once again. “Velma, give the ma
n some water.”

  The housekeeper, or so he presumed from her garb, appeared from nowhere and set a glass in front of him. He winked at her. She scowled at him, and stepped away without saying a word.

  The pretty lady with the gun steadied herself against the wall and leveled that damned rifle between his eyes, her jaw locked and her back stiff. “Why are you bothering us?”

  He drank half of the water in two gulps, then offered the riled woman his most charming smile. When it didn’t seem to do much good, he said, “I think we’d better start over.” Lifting the glass in salute, he said, “Howdy, ma’am. Nice day isn’t it?”

  “Four minutes and twenty-five seconds.”

  “My name’s Burke, and would you be Alexandra or Helen?” He knew their names and their situation, thanks to a Pinkerton friend of his who’d given him the low-down. The she-devil who wanted to blast him out of his chair had to be Alexandra, the older sister, age twenty-six and still a maid. She looked after Helen, only eighteen. But maybe if Alexandra thought he took her for being only eighteen, he’d score some points.

  “Miss Campbell to you. Where’s that no-good thieving brother of yours?”

  “Oh, Patrick!” A younger woman, just as pretty as her older sister but a lot less scary, bounded into the kitchen and hugged him tightly around the neck, then sprang back, her eyes wide. “You’re not Patrick!”

  With Alexandra’s gun pointed at his forehead, he couldn’t say he enjoyed the identity confusion. “Howdy, Miss Helen. I’m Burke O’Shaughnessy—Patrick’s big brother.”

  Helen lifted her chin. “My Patrick will come back, just like he said he would. Don’t listen to Lexie—she doesn’t even believe in love.”

  Her singsong voice told Burke that he was dealing with the worst sort of woman. A romantic.

  “He’s not the marrying kind,” the elder Miss Campbell said to her sister, her rifle still aimed at Burke.

  Second worst, he amended. A wild woman armed with a high-powered rifle was definitely the worst.

  “Even so,” she told her younger sister, “I intend to bring him back to marry you, although I doubt he has a penny of our savings he stole. But at least he can give you his name. Mr. O’Shaughnessy, here, is going to help me find him.”

  Burke held his palm out. “No...”

  “I’m going, too,” Helen stated flatly.

  “No, you’re not—not in your condition. Velma will take care of you while I’m gone.” She nodded at the housekeeper. “Tie him up, then take care of him.”

  Burke took a deep breath, afraid to ask just exactly what condition Miss Helen was in.

  While Lexie Campbell acted meaner than Doc Holliday with one card short of a flush, he wouldn’t take her with him. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I’m going alone.”

  He faked a wince as Velma tied his hands to the chair. “I always work alone,” he explained. Which wasn’t true. In Denver, his partner was probably emptying suckers’ pockets at this very moment while she waited for him.

  He stretched the rope with his wrists and worked the knots. Nope, he couldn’t have asked for a better capper than Charity Ann Templeton. They’d grown up together on the Mississippi riverboats and they couldn’t think more alike if they’d been brother and sister.

  “You’re in no position to argue, Mr. O’Shaughnessy.” Lexie leaned the rifle on the wall beside the door and circled behind him.

  Meantime, Burke had freed his hands from the binding, but held them still until he could get out of there. Alone.

  * * *

  “Dang it all, ma’am, you really didn’t need to cold-cock me,” Burke spluttered, rubbing the back of his head. Women! You could never trust ‘em.

  Lexie Campbell stared past him, out the window, as the train wound its way around the sun-scorched rocky cliffs, heading toward Durango. He admired the wispy tendrils of raven hair trailing down her alabaster neck. Who would have thought such a delicate woman could shoot like a buffalo hunter and swing a skillet like a gold miner wielding a pick.

  Finally, she shrugged and turned her attention to her folded hands. “You wouldn’t have taken me otherwise.”

  “Lady, in case you hadn’t realized it, I’m not taking you anywhere. You’re taking me.”

  A smile flickered on her prim mouth. “Patrick showed us how to get loose from ropes. I assumed he learned that scandalous trick from you.”

  The brothers had learned it from their father, but Burke wasn’t interested in storytelling. He wanted to know where he could find his brother. “At least tell me where we’re going.”

  “No. If I tell you where Patrick is, you’ll strand me somewhere.” Exactly what he’d planned to do, all right. She tilted her head and asked, “Why are you looking for him? He told us he hadn’t seen you in five years.”

  “Ah, well,” he said as he took a deck of cards out of his vest pocket, “our poor old mama isn’t doing too good these days. She wants to see him. I don’t have much time to get him back to St. Louis.” And claim the family fortune his mother was using as an incentive to reunite her sons. A large sum of cash, too. A hefty five figures. But neither son could have any of the money unless both brothers claimed the entire sum, together and in person, within two months. Otherwise, their mother would donate the money to her favorite charity.

  “Hmph! I’m surprised people like you even have mothers.”

  He ignored her remark while he shuffled and riffled the cards a couple of times. He saw her sneak a peek—and admire the dexterity of his long fingers. He took pride in his sleight of hand tricks. To be the best prestidigitator and card shark, he spent a lot of time practicing. Just one callus could make or break a thoroughbred gambler.

  “We do. Good mamas, too.” He fanned the deck and held it up to her. “Pick a card.”

  She peered out the window, feigning disinterest. “Why?”

  “Ah, come on, Lexie. We’re stuck on this train for a couple of hours so we might as well have a little fun.” He offered her the deck again. “Pick a card.”

  “My name,” she growled, “is Miss Campbell. You shall address me as such.” She finally turned toward him, holding herself away from him as though he stank or something. “And just why would you have me select a card? That makes no sense.”

  Alexandra Campbell had to be the most exasperating woman he’d ever met. After bashing his head in, at least she could play along for a while. “Just pick a card, look at it, then put it back in anywhere. I’ll shuffle the deck a few times, and the card you picked will be on top.”

  Sighing, she smirked and selected the ten of diamonds from the middle and shoved it back in the deck three-quarters of the way down. “Do your little trick now, Mr. O’Shaughnessy.”

  He palmed the card and bottom-decked it. “Call me Burke.” He shuffled and riffled three times, then sent the cards from one hand to another in a straight line. He glanced her way to see if she was impressed, but she sat there stiff as a board. Somehow or another, he’d loosen her up.

  “Ready for me to turn over the top card?”

  She nodded, and he turned over a ten of spades.

  “Mr. O’Shaughnessy, you’ve outwitted yourself,” she said, looking downright smug. “I picked the ten of diamonds.”

  “Oh, my mistake.” He turned the deck over and there was the card she’d picked—on the bottom.

  But damn if she still wouldn’t crack a smile. Her lip twitched to the right ever so slightly, though.

  After a moment, she said, “If you’re so good, shuffle the cards until the card is back in its original position.”

  “Now how the heck would I know that? Or you, either?”

  “Simple, it was the twenty-ninth card.”

  “Twenty-ninth—” With a sharp intake of breath, he said, “If so, you’re amazing. So amazing that we’ll try it again.” He fanned out the cards and told her to pick one.

  She took a card and handed it to him. “Sir, you may note that I have removed a card from the same position.”

/>   He counted the cards, then tried to read her innocent expression. If she was really as bright as she seemed to be, he could mold her into the best damned capper this side of the Mississippi. A little convincing, a lot of training, and they could be one helluva team. Maybe this little trip could prove useful after all.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” She sniffed and turned away.

  “Because I’m overwhelmed with your amazing talent.”

  She cast him a sideways glance and frowned slightly. “I have no talent.”

  Ah, her weakness. Miss Know-It-All had no confidence in herself. Well, he did. “Sure you do, Lexie. Numbers.”

  “Really?” She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. “No one else has ever been the slightest bit impressed.” Her full lips curved into a beautiful smile.

  He mentally patted himself on the back for pegging her so quickly. “Goes to show what they know.” And with a little luck, they wouldn’t guess, either. Riffling the deck, he asked, “Do you know how to play vingt-et-un?”

  She opened her eyes wide. “Why, certainly not!”

  “You might have heard it called ‘blackjack.’ I’m teaching you. You’re a natural.”

  Maybe he’d keep her around for a while, after all.

  * * *

  Lexie relaxed her shoulders while Mr. O’Shaughnessy shuffled the cards. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he showed no hostility toward her. She’d shot at him, then knocked him senseless and forced him to take her on his search for Patrick, the man who’d got her sister with child.

  Burke displayed no logic whatsoever. But few men did.

  “You may be teaching, but I’m not learning,” she said as he dealt the cards, one down, one up.

  “Poker’s easy—at least the rules are. We’re playing vingt-et-un, which isn’t really poker, but people tend to lump poker and blackjack together.” He went on to explain the value of the cards. “The idea is to get twenty-one, or as close to it as possible.”