High Stakes: A Texas Heat Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  Juliet looked up at him thoughtfully for a moment, then gave him that brilliant, all-encompassing smile of hers.

  “Okay.”

  “So what is your stupid pet trick?”

  They were still wandering around the butterfly center at a slow pace. Chance was surprised at how simple and easy it felt, a refreshing change from the rest of his life.

  “What?” she asked, laughing in surprise.

  “You’re at a kid’s birthday party and someone holds a gun to your head and says, perform. What do you do?”

  “Besides, call 911,” she retorted with a laugh. “And probably child protective services, while I’m at it.”

  Chance laughed. “Okay, change the gun to a million bucks.”

  “Um…I guess…does beating them at blackjack count?”

  Chance went rigid and gave her a sharp look.

  Her grin faltered at his reaction and he softened his expression, making it perfectly neutral again.

  “Or baseball, or anything where numbers or statistics or information is concerned,” she continued. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not Rain Man or anything. Statistics. Odds. Predictions. I’m your gal. I’d probably end up having birthday cake thrown at me for boring the crowd, but there it is.”

  “Well, now you’ve got me picturin’ you covered in whipped cream and icing,” he said in a sexy drawl, giving her his best devilish grin.

  He could see the positive effect it was having on her, despite her visible reluctance to allow such a risqué line this early on. He felt the tiny ripple of laughter through her ribs and the easy feel of her relaxed body under his hand.

  “So, your turn.”

  “Reading people,” he said without hesitation.

  “Oh?” Juliet replied, cocking her head with a smirk. “And what story am I telling?”

  He squinted his eyes as if in thought. “Your smile, for one.”

  He watched her instinctively press her lips together, sucking them into her mouth the way she’d done a number of times before.

  “There,” he said cocking his chin toward her. “You’re self-conscious about it. You think it’s too broad? Too toothy, maybe? But that’s how I know it’s genuine when I see it,” he said, giving her a considering look. He stopped walking and reached out to hook his finger under her chin and lift her face toward him. “And it’s the most beautiful thing about you.”

  Based on her initial reaction, he was right about her issues with it. A smile like hers didn’t go unnoticed, and there were people in the world—usually in the form of childhood tormentors—who lived to dampen others’ flames. Chance planned on doing everything he could to rectify that.

  Starting with a kiss.

  4

  It was perfect.

  Juliet couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. Was it the shape of his gorgeous lips, or just the way he used them? Was it the finger that was still hooked under her chin, or the thumb that grazed the front of it so softly? Was it the way his tongue hinted at meeting her lips only to dart away in a teasing fashion? Was it the, oh so apt, butterflies that were swirling around in her stomach?

  Did any of those reasons matter?

  It was simply…perfect.

  Perfect, despite the lead-up to it, which had hit a bit too close to home. Mr. Ed, that’s what they’d called her in elementary school. Not very inspired or original, but in one’s youth it doesn’t take much to prick the ego. Those tiny little darts added up, eventually creating enough scar tissue to last well into adulthood, no matter how much she thought she had moved on.

  But all that disappeared under Chance’s lips.

  A nice little tickle skipped up her spine as she realized he could have picked any woman last night and he chose her. Normally, this would be the point at which Juliet began to once again analyze the reasons why.

  Everything about this man should have set off warning bells: that wicked grin; the Texas drawl that was just a bit too exaggerated; the cocky, self-assured ease with which he just knew things would go his way.

  Get out of your damn head, Juliet.

  Those alarms went silent, giving way to something warm and comfortable, but exciting all the same. Every analytical part of her brain that would have normally said run! was sleeping on the job and letting her dormant reckless side come out to play.

  She definitely wanted to play with Chance.

  He pulled away and it took a moment for her eyes to open and find him grinning down at her.

  “I wanna treat you to something special,” he said, his finger still under her chin.

  “Like what?” she asked, giving him a broad smile that was now completely un-compromised by past baggage.

  “Anything you want. First thing that comes to mind.”

  “Chocolate,” she said, a wrinkle forming in her brow. Where had that come from?

  “Perfect,” he said. “I know just the place.”

  “Oh boy, I haven’t been here in forever,” Juliet said, looking around worriedly. They were at the Chocolate Bar in Rice Village. First the caramel macchiato, now candy. “So much for this morning’s spin class.”

  “If my date wants chocolate, chocolate is what she’ll get. Now turn that frown of yours into a smile. Enjoy the moment, Juliet.”

  Her brow smoothed out grudgingly.

  “It’s okay to be naughty every so often,” he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

  She laughed and pushed at his chest. It didn’t even yield to her touch. The man was complete muscle underneath that black t-shirt of his.

  “I think I want ice cream instead. It’s so hot out.” It wasn’t just the humid Houston weather that had her body heat rising.

  “Your wish is my command, ma’am,” he said with an exaggerated drawl, making her laugh.

  Ten minutes later they were sharing a high table sitting on a set of stools. Juliet had a scoop of Candylicious Junkyard, which had a variety of different candy bars mixed in to it. Chance seemed satisfied with a simple Double Shot Espresso ice cream.

  “If you could do anything, anything at all what would you do?”

  “Hmm?” she asked. Everything out of this man’s mouth was a complete non sequitur. She pulled away and gave him a confused look. They were already indulging in what she wanted right now. “You mean ever?”

  He shrugged. “Okay, let’s go with that.”

  “Travel,” she said without thinking. “I want to see the world.”

  “Where have you been?”

  She blinked a few moments before looking down and away from him, mildly abashed. “Nowhere really. I mean, I went to Istanbul, but that was for a conference. It was amazing, what little I saw of it while I was there. But nowhere else.”

  “Why not?” he asked with genuine surprise.

  Juliet let her ice cream roll around in her mouth before she answered. “I haven’t found anyone to go with.”

  “Instead of just going on your own?”

  She looked at him in disbelief. “On my own?”

  “Sure. Just throw a dart at a board and go.”

  She laughed. “You can’t just do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not?” She thought about it. “Well, for one, what if it lands on Syria or Antarctica or the middle of the Pacific Ocean which, percentage-wise would take up a good portion of the map? Then, there are visas to consider, and getting time off work, maybe I’d have to get vaccinations. Then there’s the weather or climate to consider. I mean, who wants to visit Iceland in the dead of winter? Then you have—”

  Chance interrupted her with a laugh. “Are you sure you want to travel?”

  Juliet stopped her rambling “what ifs” then gave him a pert twist of the lips. “Just because I like to plan and play it safe doesn’t mean I’m not interested in traveling.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said raising his hands to silence her. “I didn’t mean to pick on you.”

  Chance leaned in. “But have you ever thought that while you were busy
plotting and planning and waiting for the right circumstances, life is passing you by?”

  “Of course I have,” she said with exasperation. “But that doesn’t mean I can just pack up and leave on a whim or do something completely on a lark like—”

  “Like show up at the butterfly center on the off chance a man you had a five-minute interaction with might be there?”

  Juliet blinked and stared at him, then laughed. “Fair enough.”

  Chance sat back with a smile, dipping into his ice cream.

  “Speaking of which, who are you?”

  He raised his eyebrows at that. “That’s a broad question.”

  “Answer it how you like.” Let him answer random questions for once.

  He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and she watched the debate behind his eyes before he came to some decision. “I work on an oil rig. Two weeks on, two week off. I head back on Monday.”

  “Really?” she asked, stuffing her spoon in her mouth to hide her reaction as she ran that one through her mind.

  “Roughneck is the simplified term for people like myself. Sort of a do-it-all guy.”

  “Hmm,” she said, still playing around with this new bit of information.

  On any dating site Juliet would have passed right over him based on that alone. Swipe left, as all the kids said in reference to that app she absolutely refused to resort to. Never mind how good everything else about him stacked up, especially with that face and body.

  And where has that gotten you, Juliet?

  “You don’t have to hold back,” he said, as though reading her mind. “I know I’m not your typical type.”

  His voice wasn’t defensive or critical. He simply stated it as if it was the truth.

  Again, Juliet had to question her modus operandi up to today.

  “It’s not that,” she said, perhaps a bit too hastily.

  Chance just laughed. “Of course it is.”

  “I’m not a snob,” Juliet protested.

  “I didn’t say you were,” he said in complete seriousness. “I get it; a woman wants a man who is on her level, or preferably above it. Same education, career type, background, so on and so forth.” He said it easily, as if it didn’t bother him one way or the other.

  Juliet ate another spoonful of her ice cream, not bothering to answer that one.

  “But I wonder if that’s what you really want.”

  She swallowed, a painfully frigid lump going down her throat. “What does that mean?”

  “There’s no reason a woman like you shouldn’t be married by now, if that’s what you want. You’re smart, easy to be around, very easy on the eyes,” Juliet felt her body heat rise another notch. “So what is it?”

  “I just haven’t found the right man yet,” She brought her spoon back to her mouth and looked idly out the window.

  “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong phone book.” Chance responded. Juliet’s eyes darted back to him.

  “Take Simon from last night. He seemed decent enough. Good looking guy, well-dressed, able to hold his own at Mixers & Elixirs. So why didn’t he work out?”

  Juliet pondered that. Why hadn’t she been interested? Even before Chance stepped into the picture she’d had her doubts, teetering on the edge of not taking him up on date number two.

  Chance leaned in closer to her. “I think you want someone who will push you to throw a dart at a map and whisk you away to the middle of the Pacific Ocean.”

  Juliet chuckled, letting the tension ease up. “You have me all figured out don’t you?”

  “Told you I’m good at reading people.”

  “Well, for your information,” she responded with exaggerated sass. “No, I don’t want to be whisked away to the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I just want…a good and decent guy. Something normal, like any other woman wants.”

  “Right,” he responded, pulling back with a smirk on his face that said he had his doubts. “Well, I’m anything but normal.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” she agreed, laughing as she spooned ice cream into her mouth.

  “So you ready to quit this date? Go our separate ways?”

  She let the spoonful roll around in her mouth. This bite had a piece of something with caramel, nuts, and nougat. It was a delightful bit of surprise in an otherwise boring vanilla scoop of ice cream. That was exactly why she had chosen it.

  “No,” she said, letting the crazy mix of flavors tantalize her taste buds.

  5

  “No.”

  Chance watched her closely as she responded. He’d waded into slightly treacherous waters on this date by telling her what he did for a living and then pressing her about her life choices, but he wanted to see how she would react. There wasn’t a heck of a lot on the line yet. Worst case scenario, she’d decide she wanted nothing more to do with him. Best case scenario, he’d awaken something inside of her she didn’t even realize existed.

  He’d hit the bullseye. Beneath that neat and orderly exterior there was a woman wanting to get a little chaotic, and probably not just for the weekend.

  That complicated things.

  “So you mentioned there was a long story behind your name,” she said changing the subject.

  Chance chuckled, taking the hint. “I may have exaggerated the ‘long’ part, but there is a story. Suffice it to say, my dad had a sense of humor.”

  Juliet looked at him quizzically. “Chance isn’t so bad. Unusual, but it’s actually kind of slick.”

  “I lucked out, I suppose,” he said shrugging and finishing off a spoonful of ice cream before continuing. “My brother Chip, on the other hand….”

  “A brother. So, what, did your dad have a thing for the letters C and H?” She asked, giving a small laugh.

  “No, he had a thing for poker,” Chance confessed, watching Juliet closely.

  Chance could have told her that working on an oil rig was merely a temporary detour from his actual “career” as a poker player. That would have opened a Pandora’s box that he wasn’t at all interested in tainting this weekend with.

  All the same, it didn’t hurt to feel her out on the subject.

  Her physical reaction unfurled as expected. An embarrassed but sympathetic grimace, no doubt assuming Chance and his brother were some unfortunate victims of a troubled household with a father who had a gambling addiction.

  “He was actually pretty good at it,” he said before the cement could dry on any conclusions she had drawn. “It’s how he made a living.”

  Now her expression was a mixture of disbelief and interest. “He made a living? Playing poker?”

  Chance shrugged, taking another bite of his ice cream.

  “No one does that,” she protested, laughing. “How can anyone make a living at a game of chance?”

  Now it was Chance’s turn to laugh. “Well, if you consider it a game of chance, then no, you will most certainly not be making a living at it.”

  “How is it not a game of chance? I mean yes, you can somewhat work the odds in your favor, but—”

  “There’s your problem right there,” he said, pointing his plastic spoon her way with a grin. “It’s a poor poker player who focuses on the odds.”

  “So what does a rich poker player focus on?”

  “People.”

  “People?”

  “People.”

  “Ah, so like, bluffing, and tells, and whatnot?”

  “Among other things,” he replied vaguely.

  “Sounds like your dad isn’t the only one who had a thing for poker,” she suggested.

  He didn’t need to read her signals to catch the question in that statement. She was prodding him.

  Fair enough.

  “I used to play a bit myself.” It was a muddled truth, and Chance felt a bit guilty posing it as such, but the last thing he wanted to do was complicate things with her this early on.

  Instead, he chose to focus on the positives.

  “The house I was raised in, down in Galveston, w
as won by my daddy in a poker game.”

  Juliet’s mouth fell open in surprise. “No it wasn’t!”

  “No lie,” he replied, laughing. “And it’s a beaut. A huge, pale blue Victorian. And he owned it free and clear.”

  “Huh,” she said, looking off to ponder that.

  “So you could say it was an unconventional childhood, beginning with our names. But I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.”

  That lie came easily enough, mostly as a defense mechanism these days. It was true that his childhood had been unconventional. Not too many kids he went to school with could claim they’d been given a $1000 poker chip for Christmas or once sat on the lap of one of New Orleans’ most notorious gangsters. And no, he wouldn’t have traded it for the world, if it hadn’t ended with his dad getting killed when Chance was only fourteen years old.

  Thankfully, Juliet wasn’t as well-trained at reading body language and non-verbal signals as he was. He let his temperature cool a bit, and felt his muscles relax. By the time Juliet turned her head back to face him, he was the same Chance she had sat down for ice cream with.

  “You said he made a living at it, as in past tense. Does he still play?”

  And there it was.

  “No,” Chance said, vaguely. Then he looked over at Juliet. Those inquisitive, intelligent eyes of hers probed. He decided to tell her the truth. “He was murdered after a game when some asshole took issue with losing to him. The bastard caught up with him later that night and took his wallet, watch, even his lucky ring and left him in a damn alley like a pile of trash.”

  He could feel himself losing control as the story fell from his lips. There were very few topics that could physically affect Chance. His dad was right there at the top of that list.

  “Oh Chance, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bring up—”

  “It’s not your fault. Besides, it was over twenty years ago, so you could say I’ve adjusted to his loss.” He gave her a wry smile. Her eyes stared at him, reading way more than he wanted her to. He looked away before going on. “The funny thing is, the guy who killed him ended up getting killed by a mugger before the cops could even catch him. Best damn case of karma if ever there was one. He was even wearing his watch, if you can believe that. I just wish they’d found the rest of my dad’s stuff. The wallet was obviously cleaned out and tossed somewhere, but that ring….”