He couldn’t even remember why he’d ended up on the gambling circuit. A late-blooming rebellion maybe, or a need to prove himself as something other than the Shaughnessy kid. He regretted leaving his grandma in the lurch. At the time, he’d just been seeking escape from the weight of responsibility. She’d never looked down on him for it either, instead encouraging him to go—spread his wings.
And now, she was dying.
Guilt rolled around inside his chest. If only he’d stuck around, been a better caregiver. Maybe she’d have caught the cancer sooner, taken better care of herself.
Deep down he knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Fate could be a capricious beast when it wanted to be.
“You were so young,” Cass whispered, her gaze as soft as the gentlest touch.
He lowered his head, unable to deny himself any longer. He craved a taste of her strawberry lips more than his next breath. Her eyes widened. Surprise warred with curiosity, then passion flared and he was lost. She tasted like vanilla and spice. He felt her gasps as though they were his own, and his pulse leaped. He groaned, his hand fisting into her damp hair and tugging her head back so he could seek a deeper connection.
He barely realized what he was doing as he turned and trapped her between the wardrobe and his body, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her hands were all over his chest and shoulders, feather-light touches that left him throbbing, more aroused than he could stand.
He had to have her.
He delved under the hem of her shirt, his fingers coasting over velvet skin and delicate ribs on a quest for higher ground. She murmured something against his lips and he kissed the words away. Her breast was full and round, her nipple hard. He bent his head and nibbled her through her shirt. Her fingernails gouged his arms, but he didn’t care. It felt good, better than good. Freaking amazing.
“Stop, Matt.”
The blood was pounding in his ears, and it took a moment to comprehend her words. He slowly straightened. She looked upset, her face flushed and eyes teary. Shit, he never meant to scare her.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice a low grumble as he sought to regain composure.
She shook her head, pressing against the closet to create more space between them. Space he refused to give.
“Of course not. But, this isn’t right. I’m getting married, Matt. We can’t do this.”
He nodded, though his little head was shouting, why the hell not? They were two consenting adults. These kinds of things happened all the time.
What was he thinking?
Of course, they couldn’t have sex in his grandfather’s cabin. She was right to end it before they did something they’d regret. And they would regret it. She wasn’t the type to have an affair and sweep it under the carpet. She’d have to come clean to her dentist boyfriend, and then he might come after Matt with a drill or a pick or something, and the whole thing would be like a giant cavity just waiting to get yanked out for examination.
Thanks, but no thanks.
It was better if they stayed friends without benefits, rather than taking the chance of making her his enemy.
Matt watched her choose a shirt—one of his—and his gut twisted.
Yeah, much better that they keep the status quo.
18
Sophia kept a careful gap between her and the riders strung out in the distance. They’d been traveling for hours already and hadn’t seen a sign of Matt and Cassandra. She looked up at the racing clouds and grimaced. Even though the searchers had dodged the rain so far, the ground was treacherous in the areas where the storm had passed through.
Lightning forked, spooking her horse.
“Shh.” She patted the chestnut’s coat. “You’re doing great.” And he was. The gelding was one of the horses she’d been training in preparation for the big secret she had yet to share with her brothers. They weren’t going to take it well, she knew that. Which was why she’d spent so much time and effort planning everything down to the finest detail… and now this happened. How could she hope to convince Matt and Aaron the ranch would be perfect as a guest ranch if they couldn’t even keep track of their first guest?
When Sophia came up with the idea of Matt taking Cassandra for a ride, it had seemed like fate was playing right into her hands. Instead, she’d been thrown a curveball. That’s okay, her grandmother had taught her to go after what she wanted. One of her favorite sayings was, “Don’t ever give up on your dreams.”
Sophia agreed, which was why she was hunkered down in the saddle ghost-like to hopefully find Cassandra before the others and whisk her to safety. Because that was the only thing that made sense. Cass must have somehow been separated from Matthew and now he couldn’t find her. Matt knew every inch of this ranch. There was no way he couldn’t have found his way home, even on foot, unless something was seriously wrong.
And Sophia refused to consider that maybe her brother was injured. That didn’t even bear thinking about.
She cleared a stand of mesquite, wrinkling her nose at the smoky-sweet scent of the damp wood, and drew the gelding to a stop. Something fluttered in the breeze, caught on one of the thorny branches. She dismounted, careful to wind the reins around her hand, then walked the few feet over to the tall cluster. It was a ripped piece of cloth, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it came from Cassandra’s shirt.
She was on the right track.
“What are you doing out here?” Tony’s voice coming from beyond the shrub made her jump darn near out of her skin.
Her horse whinnied, warning her of his arrival.
“You’re too late,” she told the horse, quickly stuffing the muddy white cloth in her pocket. Tony’s eyes narrowed, but before he could ask any awkward questions, she leapt to the defensive. “I have as much right to be out here as you, Tony Morrison. More even, he’s my brother.”
She was tired of everyone treating her like a child. Just because she was the youngest Shaughnessy sibling didn’t mean she couldn’t be a productive member of the team. That’s why this project meant so much to her. Well, that, and the cowboy standing a few feet away grinding his teeth into powder. She had something to prove to him too. Stubborn man.
“Your brother is going to whup my ass for not taking better care of you, and then he’s going to ground you for the rest of your natural born days for not listening to Consuela.”
He stepped closer and laid his hand against her cheek. “She’s going to be worried sick about you. Didn’t you trust me to bring him home?”
Of course, she trusted him. She’d only been in love with Tony Morrison for what felt like forever. That was half the problem; the more she tried to get him to see her as something other than Matt’s kid sister, the more mistakes she seemed to make.
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch for a moment, before regretfully stepping away. “Consuela will understand. We should get going, it’ll be dark soon.”
He hesitated, and Sophia did a mental high five. She was done chasing her love. If he wanted her, it was his turn to prove it.
As Grannie would say, “You can’t force love, you can only give it a gentle push.”
She could wait. For now.
19
Cassandra leaned against the window sill and watched the storm chase the sunset across the sky. They were going to be spending the night together.
Just the two of them.
She rubbed her hand up and down her arm and tried not to stare at Matt’s reflection in the glass as he changed shirts in a room that seemed to shrink by the moment.
Impossible.
That’s what this entire situation was turning out to be. How was she going to explain Matt to Jeff? Maybe he didn’t have to know. Okay, that wasn’t going to work. His family was aware she’d flown to Texas. She’d needed to tell them something, so she’d made up a sick aunt, one crying out to see her favorite niece before it was too late. Now that she’d met Matt’s grandmother, the story she’d concocted left a bad taste in her mouth.
Onl
y three more days.
Three more days and she could go back to her life.
And Matt… His reflection stalked hers in the mirrored glass, panther-like, with his tawny hair and lean muscles. He’d changed to a western shirt like the one she’d borrowed, this one in shades of blue with thin tan stripes, and was busy with the fasteners as he strode toward her. Something about those dexterous fingers manipulating the snaps dried her mouth.
“Has it quit yet?” he asked, joining her at the window.
She jumped and blushed, not about to admit the rain wasn’t nearly as interesting as spying on him. She could better understand the rush peeping Toms got now.
She peered out the window. “I think it’s slowed. Are we going to try and get back to the ranch?” she asked hopefully.
He shook his head and his shoulder brushed hers. A cascade of electric sparks ignited up and down her spine.
“We’d be foolhardy to try. It’s already getting dark. We’ll spend the night here and start out first thing in the morning, unless the rescue party finds us first.”
Sure, that made sense.
She just needed to convince her libido. Cass shivered.
Matt frowned. “Are you cold?” He glanced down at her bare legs—she’d draped her wet pants over the back of a chair to dry—and moved toward the old Franklin stove nestled in the far corner.
She sighed her relief.
“Hang on, I’ll get a fire going.” He crouched and opened the glass-front door, used a log to move the leftover ashes out of the way, then fed the belly of the stove with kindling and a couple of larger pieces of wood. Finally, he stuffed a shredded newspaper into the gaps, lit a long match from a box on the hearth, and waited until the kindling began to burn before closing the door with a satisfied grin.
“I still have the touch.”
Cass smiled back, disarmed by this relaxed version of her pseudo-fiancé. “I see that. How are you with campfire coffee, then?”
He rose in one lithe motion, and her heart kicked. “I think I can rustle us up a cup or two.” He walked over to another closet that turned out to be a pantry loaded with a variety of trail rations. Curious, she moved closer for a better look. There was everything from tins of beans to canned peaches on the overloaded shelves.
“Wow, you guys don’t believe in roughing it, do you?” she teased.
Matt reached for a beat-up tin coffee pot and a jar of grounds and carried them over to the single farm sink set into a wooden countertop. He used the hand pump and got the water running, then glanced over his shoulder and caught her watching him.
Cass hurried to grab something—turned out to be a can of peaches, thank goodness, she wasn’t a fan of beans—and looked for a can opener.
“It’s in the box on the bottom shelf,” Matt said.
She dug through an assortment of spatulas and serving spoons, grabbed a couple of forks along with a hand-crank can-opener and tried to figure out which end did what.
Matt had filled the pot and placed it on the stove by then. Cassandra looked from the opener to the can and forfeited her pride.
“Ah, Matt. How do you operate one of these things?”
He looked at her, his eyes sparkling with laughter. “Are you serious? You’ve never used a handheld can-opener before?”
She shook her head, embarrassed. “Told you I wasn’t a camper. I’m a city girl, we have modern-day gadgets.”
His gaze became interested. “Oh yeah? You’ll have to show me one day.” He grinned and she just knew he wasn’t talking kitchen appliances.
Cass passed him the items, then made herself busy getting coffee mugs, sugar and dried milk, which she’d never used and didn’t plan on starting today. She brought them to the scarred table and sat awkwardly in one of the two chairs.
“Well, this is cozy,” she muttered.
Matt set the opened can of peaches in front of her without fanfare, for which she was oddly touched, then grabbed an oven mitt before bringing the perked coffee over and pouring their mugs. The aroma was richer and more fragrant than anything the fanciest coffee houses could produce.
She wrapped chilled fingers around the mug and gave a silent, peaceful sigh. Surprising, considering she was stuck in a cabin with a virtual stranger. Although, Matt didn’t seem like a stranger. He knew things about her that she’d never told another soul. Like her fear of tight places. Of being alone.
And he’d shared insights into his character too, whether he realized it or not. His kindness to animals, and determination to do whatever it took to ease his grandmother’s mind. The love and respect his family shared spoke of deep ties. Someone willing to commit. A man who would make some lucky woman a husband she could count on no matter what road their lives together might take. And who didn’t wish for one of those?
“Want one?”
Cass blinked. Matt’s words, following so close on her thoughts, made her wonder if she’d spoken aloud until she noticed the peach slice dangling on the tine of his fork. Her tummy rumbled its complete endorsement.
“Hey, those were mine.” She leaned forward to grab the can, but he was quicker, and slid it out of reach.
“Tsk, tsk, the princess has thorns.” He gave his wrist holding the fork a twist, tempting her with the fruit’s plump ripeness. “C’mon, I’m willing to share. I don’t know about you, but it’s been hours since I had anything to eat. I’m starving.”
Her salivating mouth said she was too. Giving up, Cassandra lifted her hand to take the fork, but Matt ignored it and brought the slice to her lips.
“Open up before it drips on you,” he said, his voice rich with humor.
She opened her mouth to tell him where he could put his peach and he slid it between her lips. The sudden explosion of sweet juices made her moan. So good. It was almost as though she was tasting fruit for the first time.
Meeting Matt’s suddenly intense gaze, she froze, and slowly licked the syrup from her lips. She cleared her throat. “They’re tasty.”
He set the fork on the table with great deliberation, then used a hand to grab the bottom of her chair and give a sharp tug, pulling her between his knees. He leaned forward and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, before bringing it to his mouth and sucking the flesh.
“Mmm, you’re right,” he said, his tone little more than a rumble.
Her eyes widened.
Holy cow.
She was in so much trouble.
20
Matt stared at the plump fullness of Cassandra’s lips, still moist from the peach syrup he’d accidentally-on-purpose dribbled, and fought the urge to throw her on the bed and have his way with her. What started out as a teasing prank on his part had developed into a sensual experience and it didn’t help that the warmth of her body between his thighs was making it difficult to think.
Her eyes had darkened to deep pools that hid her thoughts from him. But he didn’t need to see what she was thinking; it was obvious from her flushed cheeks and tensed body.
He got to her.
The rush of satisfaction was tempered by the fact the feeling was mutual. Which meant they had a problem.
Namely, a fiancé.
Suddenly, Matt wanted to know everything there was to know about this paragon of virtue. A man who trusted his bride-to-be so much he left her alone in Sin City while he was off doing whatever it was dentists did when they weren’t causing untold pain with fiendish delight.
“I don’t think you told me, where is your fiancé? Why isn’t he smashing down our doors in search of his beautiful bride?” He sat back and folded his arms.
She looked down and frowned. “To be, it’s bride-to-be, and he had a conference. It couldn’t be avoided.” She met his gaze, defiant. “It’s only a matter of time before he hears where I’ve gone. This is a mistake, Matt. You need to tell your grandmother the truth.”
She was right.
He didn’t want to though. If he did, all of this would be over. It was bad enough thinking about his ab
uela’s disappointment, but the thought of never seeing Cassandra again… It terrified him.
When did this annoying, opinionated, maddening woman come to mean so much to him? And what was he going to do about it?
Fight for her.
But how? He was a professional gambler, for crying-out-loud. Not much to recommend himself with there. They were too different. Cassandra craved stability, while he was a rambling man. The two didn’t mix.
But, that didn’t stop him from wanting her.
Matt gazed upon the cabin his great-grandfather had built, the furniture his grandfather had made, and the woman in the center of it all, and accepted his fate.
Impossible as it seemed, he’d gone and fallen in love with Cassandra Gardener. Now he just needed her to feel the same way before the week was over and he lost her forever. And in order to do that, he needed to convince her to continue their charade.
Even with the glow from the fireplace the room was getting dark as clouds moved in and the sun sank behind the hills. Grateful his family kept the cabin stocked, Matt lit the kerosene lantern sitting on the table, setting the wick down low before replacing a smoke-blackened glass shade. Cass’s nose had crinkled up rather adorably at the pungent aroma of the burning fuel and he had to smile.
“There’s been a lot of firsts for you since meeting me, huh?”
She gazed at him wryly. “You could say that, yes. Can’t say I’ve ever been thrown from a horse before, or gotten lost in the wilderness, either.”
“Hey. Who said we were lost?” He waved a hand at their surroundings. “I knew where we were going.” He grinned. “Just not the method of our arrival.”
Hold 'Em: A Gambling Hearts Romance Page 7
