Hold 'Em: A Gambling Hearts Romance

by Jacquie Biggar

  “We passed a dozen or more cabins on our way up to the main house. Go choose one of those.” She said, desperation giving a lift to her voice.

  He just grinned and shook his head. “Sorry, princess. What would they think if my bride-to-be kicked me out on our first night?”

  “That you’re a jerk,” she muttered.

  She turned and stretched to reach a pillow from the head of the bed, conscious her skirt was riding up her thighs. Of course he noticed. Her face flamed at the lascivious glint in his eye and she hurried to get off his bed and tug her skirt back into place.

  “Fine. I’ll sleep in the chair, but you better not snore.”

  Matt burst out laughing and she had to smile. He really was quite attractive, in a Brad Pitt meets Dustin Hoffman kind of way.

  He gestured toward a door she hadn’t noticed earlier. “You don’t need to get a crick in your neck, honey. There’s a spare bedroom connected to this suite.”

  He moved toward the door. “The only thing is we have to share the bathroom. So if you need to tinkle overnight, you might want to make sure the seat is down first.” He winked and disappeared from view.

  She stood there, stunned. He really was a Neanderthal.

  8

  Matt lay, hands folded behind his head, and contemplated the ceiling. It could use a paint job. Actually, he’d noticed a few areas in disrepair since they’d arrived. Much of the ranch’s upkeep had fallen by the wayside since his grandmother fell ill. And the only person he could blame for that was himself. First thing in the morning he planned to drive over to the main office and have a chat with their foreman, Tony, to find out just how bad the situation had become.

  A door opened and closed. A moment later the muffled sound of water tumbling into the two-person bathtub filled his imagination with what was happening in the Jack and Jill bathroom he was sharing with his unwanted houseguest. Wonder what she would think if he offered to help wash her back?

  The wood paneling wasn’t near thick enough to mask the relieved sigh or the splash as she sank into the warm water. He could smell the vanilla bath soap his sister had set out for her use. Picture her up to her chin in frothy bubbles.

  Matt’s smile faded.

  Soft, sexy moans mixed with more splashing. He sat up and glared at the door. What the hell was she doing in there? How was he supposed to get any sleep with her making all that racket?

  He jumped off the bed and strode to the door. Bang, bang, bang.

  She shrieked and then it sounded like a tsunami hit his bathtub.

  Shit, had he scared her into hurting herself?

  “You okay in there?” he called, hand over the door knob. There was another little cry accompanied by something wet splatting the wood in front of his face.

  “You big jerk. Are you trying to scare me to death?” she yelled.

  His lips curved upward. “Temper, temper. Don’t you know you catch more flies with honey, than with vinegar?” He relaxed a shoulder against the door jamb, enjoying their little exchange now that he had the upper hand.

  “Oooh, I hate you!”

  That brought on an outright laugh. She sure had an attitude. Her fiancé—the real one—must have his hands full.

  The door swung open mid-chuckle and Matt forgot to breathe. She’d wrapped herself sarong-style in a thick white bath towel, the knot situated right between her breasts like an exclamation mark. One he was helpless to ignore.

  She flicked her fingers in front of his nose. “Hello, I’m up here.” And planted a fist on a gently rounded hip.

  He looked at her, bemused. How could one female look so… snooty while wearing a towel?

  “Aren’t you chilly in that getup?” His gaze did a slow slide from top to bottom, hesitating over all the interesting bits.

  She actually growled. He couldn’t believe it.

  “I wouldn’t be… chilly, as you put it, if some idiot wasn’t trying to bang the darn door down and wake up the house.”

  Good point. Guess he should have just put a pillow over his head, but it would’ve been less entertaining.

  “Well if you weren’t indulging in a one-person orgy…”

  She sucked in a scandalized breath. He watched to see if the towel would open at the strain. Darn, not quite.

  “You are the most aggravating, annoying, maddening man on the face of the planet.” She tucked the towel deeper between her breasts and lifted a hand to close the door in his face.

  How rude.

  He stuck his foot in the way, stopping the momentum, and grinned at her outraged expression. She really was cute.

  “Hold on a second. Since I can’t get any sleep with your caterwauling anyway, we should make a plan on how we’re going to get through this week. Preferably without killing each other.” He joked, but the truth was they really did need to put on a united front or his family would catch on and he would hurt the person he loved the most—his grandmother.

  Cassandra glared at the offending appendage. “It’s been a long day, most of it spent in your… scintillating company.” She lifted an elegant eyebrow over sleepy eyes. “I promise to be on good behavior for the duration of my stay. But if you don’t move your foot out of my way, I’m going to slam this door so hard you’re going to be walking with a limp for the next month. Do we understand each other?”

  Oh yeah, he got the picture. She was used to getting her own way. That’s okay, so was he.

  Without giving her time to guess his intention, he swooped in and used his shoulder to pick her up, one arm wrapping her thighs right where the towel ended. He ignored her grunt and the barrage of fists pummeling his back, to stride the few feet into the bathroom and deposit her into the tub of water. Maybe that would cool her down.

  He stepped back to enjoy the show. It didn’t take long. She came up sputtering, her hair a sodden mass covering her face. She shook, and he jumped, barely avoiding the splash.

  “What the hell, Shaughnessy? I could have drowned,” she snarled.

  He couldn’t be that lucky.

  That damn towel had plastered itself to her body, and yeah, she was chilled. As soon as she noticed his gaze, she covered herself with her hands, which led to the whole masturbation fantasy he’d been having about her earlier.

  He shifted, hoping she wouldn’t notice the effect she had on him. It was just a physical thing. She was an attractive woman—even with that viper tongue—and he was a single guy. If they had met under different circumstances he might even have given it a shot, but not with her. Besides the fact she was getting married, they were like oil and water, they didn’t mix.

  Hoping he could regain his slippery footing, and he didn’t mean the floor, he gave her a cocky grin and headed for the door. “G’night, sugar. Dream of me.”

  He caught the movement from the corner of his eye and ducked just in time to miss the bottle of shampoo aimed at his head.

  9

  A persistent buzzing near her ear made Cass groan. She stuck out a hand and patted around until she found her cell phone, then drew it under the covers and blinked the display into view.

  Daddy.

  She pushed up onto her elbows, shoved the hair out of her face, and cleared her throat before taking the call.

  “Hi, Dad.” She was proud of her tone, no hint of the hurt she was feeling at all.

  “Hi, sweetheart. Are you okay?” She had to give him credit, he sounded sincere.

  “Do you care?” A little bitter maybe.

  “Cassandra, how can you say that? You mean the world to me, and you know it. Ever since your mom…”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she cut him off, guilt coating her aching heart.

  There was an awkward silence, then he cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I have to get to work, but I wanted to check in and make sure that Texan was treating you right. The week will be over before you know it and then we can get back to that wedding of yours.”

  She hated the disappointment that twisted her stomach and brought tears
to her eyes. “Okay, Dad. Bye.”

  “Bye, honey. And… thanks.”

  The line went dead and she was left staring at the striped paper lining the wall over the bed. Why did she let him get to her? He was never going to change. He’d never said, but she knew he blamed her for his wife’s death. She blamed herself. If she hadn’t had been a brat on the way to school that day, her mom would still be alive.

  And now it was just the two of them and dozens of regrets.

  Voices down the hall reminded her she was a guest in someone’s home. Good manners told her she should get up and make nice even though burying herself back under the covers was much more tempting. It had taken hours last night to fall asleep. Especially after that, that… heathen dumped her into the bathtub.

  And no, she was absolutely not remembering the feel of his arms or the strength of his shoulders. No. No. No.

  With any luck, he’d be busy on the ranch, doing whatever it is they do on a farm, and she’d hardly have to see him at all. She had no problem visiting with his family, though it went against the grain to lie to them about her and Matt’s so-called engagement. But really, anyone who saw them together would know something was up—how did he expect to pull this off around the people who loved him?

  She shrugged. Not her problem. Their agreement only specified she act the part, not make it believable. Besides, she liked Matt’s abuela, who had been warm and welcoming to a complete stranger last night. Cass had felt an instant connection to the older woman and had no intention of lying to her more than necessary. If Matt wanted to lay it on thick, that was up to him. All she wanted was to pay her dad’s debt and go home so she could get married.

  She picked up her phone to call Jeff, then set it aside. What could she say? Hi, honey, funny story. He’d never understand. His patience with her dad was nil anyway, never mind something of this magnitude. It was one of the few things they argued about. He tended to look down his patrician nose at anyone he deemed less than perfect, and her father with his paunchy stomach and gambling problems topped Jeff’s list of flaws.

  Funny enough, Matt, who had every reason to mock her father, had treated him with the utmost respect. Even taking the time to assure him that his daughter would be handled like a princess during her stay at the ranch.

  Only Cassandra caught the sarcasm directed toward her and her citified ways. That’s okay. She had nothing to prove to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Annoying.

  She dressed with care, not too sure how people in Texas went about their day. After all, this was the blue jean capital of the world, wasn’t it? The closest she owned was a pair of finely woven white linen pants that she teamed with a sapphire blue top and a chunky gold chain around her neck. A sleek up-twist to get her heavy hair off the neck in deference to the heat, a spritz of her favorite, Aerin, to boost her confidence, and Cass opened the door to face the day.

  “There you are,” a cheerful female voice called from down the hall. “I was just coming to get you. Matthew wants to take you riding today.”

  Cass turned to face the pretty young woman striding toward her wearing, yes, denims, and a bright yellow t-shirt that suited her cheerful expression.

  “Sophia, right?” All the Shaughnessys had been blessed when it came to the gene-pool. Matt’s youngest sister was apple pie fresh, with rosy cheeks and a wide smile that invited you to laugh along with her.

  “Yep. I’m the cute, friendly one. Don’t hold my brothers against me, okay?”

  Cassandra laughed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Then the rest of what she said sank in.

  Riding? Like on a horse?

  Oh, hell no.

  10

  Cassandra stared at Matt’s little sister as if she’d lost her mind. Because she surely had if she expected this city girl to get her pricey Louboutins anywhere near anything with hooves.

  She shuddered. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Sophia took one look at her horrified expression and burst into a fit of giggles. “I… if you co…could only see your face right now.”

  Cass smiled uncertainly. It wasn’t that funny. She had an ingrained fear of an animal that outweighed her by a few hundred pounds. Anyone with a lick of common sense would. She watched television. She’d seen what those monsters did to professional riders in the ring, and she was about as far from experienced as it was possible to get.

  This was such a bad idea.

  Then she glanced down at her spotless linen pants and grabbed on like a lifeline. “I don’t have the right clothes, maybe next time.”

  Sophia seized her hand and tugged, leading her down another long hall that bisected the one her and Matt were in. “Don’t worry, I have plenty. You can borrow a pair of my denims.” She grinned over her shoulder. “And some boots.”

  This wasn’t happening. She was going to wake up any minute now in her own luxury condo and put it down to a bad dream.

  Sophia held Cassandra’s hand up. “That’s your ring? Was my brother too cheap to buy you a real one?” she teased.

  Cass wiggled her fingers free, curiously annoyed. She had no reason to care what Matthew’s family thought. She fingered the smooth gold. Besides, it was a lovely ring.

  Where the heck was he anyway?

  “Um, I like this one.”

  “He’s so sweet. The best brother a girl could have.” She led them into a girly room, all pink and lace and a gorgeous white pedestal canopy bed. Cass loved it.

  “You and your brothers are close then?” she asked, aware of the wistful edge to her voice. She’d always wanted a sister of her own, and as the years went by, even a brother would have been nice. But any chance of that ended one rainy never-to-be-forgotten day.

  “They’re great, except when I have a date. Then they’re a pain.” Sophia grimaced, before opening Cassandra’s idea of Heaven; an enormous walk-in closet filled with a wide assortment of colorful shirts and dresses.

  She relaxed. No cowboy boots in here. Matt’s sister did have good taste in clothes though. She caught glimpses of some of the top New York City designers as Sophia swept row upon row aside in her quest for blue jeans.

  “Yes, here they are.” She emerged triumphantly, holding a dark blue pair of pants in the air with studs glistening on the rear pockets. “These are my lucky pair. I used to wear them to gymkhana all the time. And win.” She gave an impish grin and tossed Cass the pants.

  Cassandra held them up and grimaced. Shoot, they looked like they would fit. She was going to kill Matthew when she saw him. If the horse didn’t get to her first.

  * * *

  Matt sat atop Goliath and stared across the compound to the rolling fields beyond. God, he’d missed his home. It was hard to imagine he’d been away for the best part of eighteen months, chasing the dream. He’d come close. If not for the call warning him of his grandmother’s illness, he’d have been headed for the World Poker Series. He enjoyed the game, but he loved his family more.

  Goliath’s ears twitched, his muscular black body shifting beneath Matt’s thighs. He leaned forward and rubbed the stallion’s neck, straightening his silvery mane. “What’s the matter, buddy? Did you miss me?”

  The horse nodded his head, as though in agreement.

  Matt smiled. “Me too, it’s been too long, my friend.” He’d had the big horse since it was a foal. They were a team. Goliath wouldn’t let anyone else on his back, which meant he was going to be frisky today, but Matt hadn’t been able to resist the horse any more than he could resist asking Cassandra to join him.

  He hadn’t slept much. To be expected, what with his grandmother’s grim diagnosis. But it was the picture of outrage on his pink-cheeked, sopping wet guest that had him tossing and turning the night away. Even now, the vision of her in that tub had the power to make him want to laugh and groan at the same time.

  Cleo—short for Cleopatra—neighed, and Matt looked toward the house. Sure enough, his sister stepped through the door, an apple in each hand, followed by another young woman in
form-fitting jeans that lovingly hugged every curve. Cassandra.

  Goliath snorted and Matt forced himself to relax, aware he’d squeezed his pet’s girth too hard.

  “About time, princess. I was going to leave without you.” He hid a smile at her instant look of hope.

  “You still can. I’m sure I can keep busy while you’re gone,” she said tartly, and twisted to head back indoors, giving him a heart-stopping glimpse of her perfect ass highlighted by the silver studs on the back pocket of her pants.

  Sophia laughed and caught her arm—God bless her. “He’s kidding. C’mon, wait until you meet my horse. Cleo’s a sweetheart.” She dragged Cass down the stairs, arm in arm.

  The horses caught the scent of the juicy, red apples and moved toward the women, necks outstretched, lips peeling back over big square teeth.

  Cassandra yelped.

  Goliath, not used to the noise, and skittish from being kept in the pasture, reared. It was just a second, and Matt quickly brought him under control, but Cass’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell to the ground in a dead faint.

  Again.

  11

  “We need to quit meeting this way,” a voice rumbled under Cassandra’s ear. She opened her eyes to see a rippling sky behind the leonine head of her captor. Matthew Shaughnessy.

  She groaned. “What happened?”

  His teeth flashed and she had a sudden image of gigantic yellow teeth about to bite her head off. Startled, her heart pounded like the monster’s hooves. Matt’s arms tightened, holding her against his very fine chest, the woody essence of sandalwood a visceral reminder of their times together.

  “Hold still before I drop you. Why didn’t you say you were scared of horses?” He set her down on a cushioned swing hanging from the eaves on the wide front porch of the home.