9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  The first round of betting was brisk, just as Burke had planned, to where he threw in a chit for his “wife’s” two hundred, plus another couple thousand he’d raised from observers Alden had planted.

  On the draw, Burke took two, Dorsey took one, Wardell took two, and Toulson took three.

  Then the betting began in earnest, and once again, Burke had to raise funds from gents in their growing audience. Finally, Toulson was all in, and called. Wardell folded, Dorsey called, and so did Burke.

  He knew the moment Toulson replaced the cards in his hand with the cards in his sleeve, and not just by the man’s clumsy move. He paled.

  Burke smiled, knowing that would really get Toulson’s goat. “Lay down your cards.”

  Dorsey had two pair, jacks high. Toulson lay down a pair of fives. Burke had four aces and a king for a kicker.

  Toulson spluttered and went for his derringer, but Alden was ready for him and grabbed his arm.

  “You cheated, you dirty bastard!” He struggled but Alden put him in an arm lock.

  “Can’t cheat a cheater,” Burke said. “I took those aces from your sleeve.” He nodded at Alden. “Want to get that lizard from his left arm?”

  Dorsey paled. “I’m calling the constable! This hotel runs a clean gaming room, and I won’t have the likes of that man in my establishment.”

  Wardell bolted out of the room as if his pants were on fire. The waiter brought a rope and Alden bound Toulson.

  Burke sat and leisurely puffed on his cigar. “Let’s split the take three ways, boys.”

  * * *

  Toulson had pitched such a fit that the town constable had to shove a bandanna in his mouth to keep him from waking up the hotel guests. Tired as he was, Burke had a spring to his step as he climbed the stairs to his room.

  The most intriguing woman on either side of the Mississippi lay in his bed, and he planned to join her. Join with her. Ah, hell, sink deep inside her.

  Dadburn it all, anyhow. He knew he couldn’t do such a thing when she wasn’t in full control of her faculties. Even though the gambling life didn’t inspire sainthood, he did have some values.

  The key rattled in the lock, which suited him fine because in case she was awake, he wanted her to have plenty of notice that he was coming in. When he opened the door, the baby-soft snore floated to his ears. She looked peaceful and beautiful, her dark hair fanned across the pillow.

  It wasn’t her hair that got him, though. She’d kicked off the covers and her chemise bunched up around her hips. That woman had miles of the shapeliest legs he’d ever seen. Her full breasts nearly escaped her chemise and he ached to touch them. Brains and beauty. She was four aces to every other woman’s three of a kind.

  Easy on the eyes, hard on the cojones.

  For a moment, he considered carrying her to her own room, but then he justified not doing so when he heard a door slam. It wouldn’t be seemly for her to be caught in the hall wearing nothing but her chemise and her glory.

  Blast him all to blazes. He yanked off his clothes and settled in beside her, pulling her tight to his chest, and doubting he’d get a wink of sleep all night.

  He just wanted to be close. Could be the only chance he’d ever get.

  * * *

  Lexie, still half-asleep, pondered whether she’d gone to bed with her corset on. She dozed, vaguely aware of a mild headache and an urge to get up, but her movement was restricted.

  The last time she wore a corset in bed, she still lived in Washington. Her mother insisted on her daughters being corseted day and night, hoping for the seventeen-inch waist neither daughter had achieved.

  When her sister’s scandal had blown up and their mother had sent the two of them to Colorado, Lexie’d thought it was the end of the Earth. And it was. But the last few days had shown her what living life was all about.

  It was about Burke, pied piper of children—and their mothers. He made friends everywhere. Life was nothing but a good time to him, yet, she’d never known anyone who did more to help the less fortunate.

  Then she remembered last night. The milk hadn’t assuaged the effects of the sherry at all. And Burke had undressed her.

  He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him. Warmth darted straight to her nether regions, same as when he kissed her. It was the most wondrous dream she’d ever had. Maybe she could doze some more and it would come back.

  Instead, she opened her eyes to bright sunshine pouring through the window. No corset held her down—a man’s arm sagged over her and his hand rested on her left breast. Long graceful fingers, adept at sleight, even more adept at making her feel like the most desirous woman in the world. Desirous of him. Maybe she could snuggle for a while and pretend she hadn’t awakened.

  But nature called. Careful not to disturb him, she lifted his arm, scooted out from under it, and got up. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

  All she had on was her chemise. He’d taken off her dress, corset, drawers, shoes, and stockings. The room was in disarray—her petticoat lay crumpled in a heap beside the bed and the dress drooped clumsily over the bureau. Both would need a good pressing before she could wear them again. One stocking was halfway under the bed and the other plus her shoes were nowhere in sight. Her corset was draped over the chair, its laces mangled.

  Lexie took care of business and drank a few sips of water, after which she felt much better, then stared at the man sprawled on the bed.

  A strand of his dark hair curled around his ear. His magic lips parted slightly and after last night she had a much better idea of what men’s lips were for. Women who’d referred to marital duties as, well, duties, had never, ever been with a man like Burke.

  The proper thing to do would be to dress, find her key, and go to her room.

  The right thing to do would be to climb back in bed with Burke and enjoy what little time they’d have together.

  Chapter 11

  Burke slept on his back, naked, blankets pushed down past his waist, way, way, alarmingly far past his navel. But not far enough. Lexie had never seen a naked man, so she might as well start her study with the best. His effect on her body intrigued her. How could the simple act of gazing at his chest make her hands impatient to touch him there, to trail her fingers through the dusting of hair, to explore the hard muscles of his midsection?

  How could the very thought of touching him make her so hot that she had to clench her legs together? It made no sense, and certainly none of the books she’d read had broached the subject.

  He didn’t stir when Lexie crawled back into bed so she boldly went where she suspected many women had gone before and rested her head on his shoulder, her breasts pressed against his ribs, and her right leg resting on his left leg. She lay still a moment, alert to any changes in his steady breathing, and ready to spring out of bed at his slightest twitch.

  Minutes passed and he hadn’t moved a muscle. Nor had she, but his pectorals begged to be touched. She’d seen anatomy pictures and knew the names of all the muscles, but they hadn’t provoked her senses or even her curiosity as did viewing a man in the flesh. And his flesh looked grand.

  Slowly and very gently, careful not to wake him, she slid her hand across his solar plexus and rested it there—a calculated move, not too near his chest or his nether region. Not too satisfying, either, when both were so close and so in need of exploration. She waited for what seemed like forever, then inched her hand to his chest, wanting to feel his man nipples just to see if they were the same as hers, but not having the courage. Instead, she rested her hand in the middle, feeling his chest rise and lower with each breath. And waited some more.

  Finally, she worked up the courage to shove her hand to the right, the crinkly chest hairs sensuous on her fingertips, and rubbed her thumb over his nipple. Hard, much harder than hers, and smaller. Probably the only part of him that was smaller than hers. It felt so good when she did that she ran her thumb over it again. Still, he hadn’t moved.

  Touching him stirred her in ways that made he
r a bit more reckless. Wanting to touch all of him. But she knew it was dangerous—not that she feared him. No, she was afraid of her own overwhelming urges. Hot. Tense. More.

  He took a deep breath and quivered slightly. She panicked and held very still. Once his respiration resumed, she waited for a half dozen breaths just to make sure she didn’t wake him again.

  When her own urgency wouldn’t permit further waiting, she moved her hand back to his midsection. Even his navel felt good to her, but knowing how sensitive her own was, she resisted the urge to explore it. Besides, the real gold lurked somewhere down below.

  Of course she knew the name of his man’s part, but she wouldn’t speak it even in her mind. She’d read all about it. Then again, the milk experience had not gone according to what she’d read. At all. Plus, Burke didn’t do anything by the book. Unique, handsome, irresponsible, with questionable morals—that’s how she’d describe him.

  Then again, her current actions were unique, irresponsible, and more than questionable.

  Lexie brushed her hand lower, feeling his strong abdominal muscles and the line of hair led her from his navel to more hair. Hotter down there! Something moved under the covers, and it wasn’t his legs. But it couldn’t be his certain part because it didn’t have any muscles—she’d read about it extensively.

  Best she go no farther. But she left her hand right where it was, at the fold of the blanket that covered his pelvis. Barely.

  Maybe just a little lower. She crept her fingers down another inch, when something hard, hot, and heavy whipped from the side and came to rest on the back of her hand. He trembled slightly and took another deep breath. Too far. But to remove her hand could wake him, too, so she held firm.

  Firm was the operative word. He was quite firm. She wanted to wrap her hand around it and see what happened. Or not.

  Or yes. A strange and powerful need to hold him overcame any good sense she had.

  She grasped it and gave it a squeeze.

  The next moment, Burke was on top of her, his hard part pressing between her legs, causing the most glorious sensation.

  “Good God, woman, you’re killing me.”

  He kissed her, his tongue invading, searching. Every inch of her body tingled but the need in her groin overwhelmed any compunctions of unseemly behavior. She held him as tightly as he held her, even clasping him with her legs.

  “I have to taste you.” He squeezed her breasts, then took a nipple in his mouth, nearly undoing her right then and there, the rope of pleasure tugging from her breast to her woman parts.

  Someone knocked on the door. “Mr. O’Shaughnessy?”

  They both stilled and Burke groaned as if he were in agony, dropping his forehead to her breast.

  Another knock. “Mr. O’Shaughnessy, the constable is in Mr. Dorsey’s office. They’re waiting for you.”

  * * *

  Blast it all, anyhow! Burke had forgotten all about the meeting, and even if he’d remembered, well, some things trumped meetings, and having Lexie’s hand wrapped around his cock was number one on the list. He glowered at the door.

  “Are you in trouble?” Lexie whispered. Her frown and her luscious lips sent mixed messages.

  “If I was, the constable would be kicking in the door, not a bellboy knocking.” To the bellboy he called, “Tell Dorsey I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Rolling off Lexie was probably the hardest thing he’d done in his entire life. He sat up on the side of the bed. Lexie turned her head for a moment, but then stared right at his cock, which stood proud and tall.

  “How do you get that in your britches?”

  “It’s not normally this size. It’ll go down in a minute, but not if you’re looking at it.”

  “How does it get big, then?”

  “Field research.”

  * * *

  Lexie couldn’t decide whether she was ashamed or exhilarated, but decided on the latter, because nothing so wonderful should ever be called shameful.

  Before Burke had gone to the meeting, he fetched her some clothes from her room, and left her key. She dressed, took her wrinkled garments to her room, and called the maid. When the maid came, Lexie instructed her to press the bedraggled dress and petticoat, and to send for a bath.

  “Why don’t I bring some water for your ablutions, and then you can go down to the spring and soak? It’s mighty restorative to a woman in your condition.”

  Apparently, the gossip ran rampant throughout the staff of this hotel, but since the maid was only trying to be helpful, Lexie couldn’t begrudge her suggestion.

  “Good idea. I bought a bathing costume yesterday.”

  “The hotel has robes that look almost like a dress, so I’ll bring one of those. That way, you don’t have to change. When you get out of the spa, just put the robe back on. We don’t care if it gets wet.”

  That didn’t seem like such a good idea, but Manitou Springs was a health resort, so what would be unseemly elsewhere was likely the normal way of doing things here.

  An hour later, she lowered herself into the carbonated water. It tingled and gurgled, and smelled a little odd, too. But she had to admit, her skin felt wonderful and the healing power of the spring was not overblown. She luxuriated in the bubbles for as long as she dared, then put on her wrap and returned to the room.

  The maid was there, waiting. “Mr. Dorsey said to attend you however you please. First thing is to pack up your things and take them to the new room.”

  “New room?”

  “You and Mr. O’Shaughnessy have the honeymoon suite tonight, compliments of Mr. Dorsey.”

  Honeymoon suite? Really, this was going too far, but Lexie could see no graceful way out of it, other than she thought they were leaving for Denver on the late train.

  “I’ll help you change, then you busy yourself with something fun while I get your things moved.” She reached into her apron pocket. “And this wire came for you.”

  Lexie unfolded the paper.

  Cedar Crest College hired you. Asst prof math. Aug. 1.

  They’d hired her! She did a little jig around the room. They’d actually hired her!

  Her obsession with Burke the last few days had distracted her, but now she had to step it up. She had to find Patrick and take him back to Silverton to marry Helen, then make arrangements for a supervisor to take over the mine operations so she and Helen could return to the East. She’d leave her sister at their parents’ house and prepare for her new position.

  How she wished she could talk to her father now! He’d be proud of her.

  Burke? She didn’t even want to think about not having him in her life, but such a situation was never an option in the first place. He lived life in the moment. Women loved him and he could have his pick. Lexie doubted he’d give her a second look if they weren’t stuck on this quest to find his brother.

  But one thing about it, the only man she’d ever be with was the best.

  Time to shop.

  * * *

  Burke met with the constable in Mr. Dorsey’s office and wrote a statement for him about Toulson. While there, the constable asked about another man, describing Dayton Wardell.

  “Yes, I know him. Tried to jump me a few days ago, then had the balls to play poker last night.”

  Dorsey chuckled. “He didn’t do any better than Toulson. O’Shaughnessy cleaned him out.”

  The constable struck a lucifer and lit his cigar. “Must be why he’s out there selling rocks.” He waved out the match and threw it in the ashtray. “I’d be obliged if you’d keep me informed of his activities.”

  Burke chafed at the suggestion. “I don’t do that. Besides, I have more important things to do.”

  “He’s a newlywed,” Dorsey explained, waggling his eyebrow.

  “Then tell me why he’d be selling rocks.”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s not a variation of Soapy Smith’s game. He sells bars of plain-wrapped soap to people, saying there’s a chance for a hundred-dollar bi
ll. You’d be amazed at how many suckers fall for it.”

  The constable shrugged. “Don’t sound all that bad.”

  “There’s no hundred-dollar bill except for the one in the soap he sells to his capper,” Burke said. “He unwraps it and works the crowd into a frenzy, and they fight to see who gets to buy the first and the most.”

  “Sounds like a lottery. There’s no law against that.”

  “You hang around Wardell long enough, he’ll give you reason to arrest him, if that’s what you want.” Burke wouldn’t mind him being in jail at all—would rid him of a pesky mosquito, but he didn’t have the time or inclination to corner him.

  When he stood, Dorsey tossed him a key. “Honeymoon suite. I’ve already had the maid move your bride and ordered a nice dinner for you. Enjoy.”

  Burke thanked him and left. He didn’t know what sort of mood Lexie would be in, but he hoped she didn’t think too much on it and turn all righteous again. He’d take the passionate Lexie over the righteous one any day.

  He damned well liked her field research. He’d nearly died trying to hold still and not to scare her off while she ran her hands all over him. Sweet torture. When she took hold of his cock, he’d never been so horny in his entire life. The most skilled courtesan could take lessons from her. He’d double-down on his Lexie-girl any day.

  Time to buy some jewelry. An emerald necklace would surely look nice on her long neck, and he wanted the chance to kiss it off her. Plus, maybe it would stifle the righteous woman and bring out the field researcher. Even if it didn’t, she deserved a nice little bauble now and again.

  * * *

  When Lexie returned to the hotel, the clerk gave her the key to the honeymoon suite, and the bellboy carted her purchases to the room.

  “I’ll show you around,” he said as he took the key from her and unlocked the door. “We all admire this suite.”

  She sucked in her breath when she walked into the room, trimmed in marble and brass, and decorated with pink velvet draperies and matching carpet. The main room sported two plush chairs, a divan, and a secretary. The stone fireplace with a bear rug in front of it was a romantic touch. A table held an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne in it, and there were two goblets decorated with pink ribbon.