Rough and Tumble

by Crystal Green

  Sofia shook her head as Molly went on.

  “If that’s the case, meeting with him in public isn’t any more of a danger than going on one of those computer dates I’ve suffered through too many times before. I never knew what I was really getting into then, either.”

  “I’m pretty sure what you’d get now,” Sofia said.

  The truth was, Molly was pretty sure, too, and her breath caught in her lungs. But was she that curious about what a safe date with Cash Danger would be like?

  Yeah. She was curious. Achingly so.

  She gave them a no-arguments look. “That settles it, then. Since he merely said he wants the pleasure of my company, I’ll set up a public meeting where he can spend that time with me. After that, Arden’s debt can be cleared.”

  “Maybe,” Arden said, “I should go to the cops to work this out. It was an illegal game, and I’ll accept the consequences.”

  “No,” Molly said. “Let’s not go overboard. I’ll talk to the guy and reason with him first. I’ll even offer him a payment plan before addressing any kind of date, okay? Everything will work out, you’ll see.”

  Wow, she sounded like a boss who had everything under control. Where had she come from?

  Sofia burst her bubble. “Let me get this straight—he’d be spending ten thousand dollars for a drink with you? Molly, I love you dearly, but he’s going to want his money’s worth.”

  Arden leaned forward, spiking her fingers through her hair and closing her eyes, losing hope.

  Sofia sent Arden a look that reminded Molly of how her own mom, back before the car accident that’d claimed her and Dad, used to gaze at their daughter after she’d done something very wrong and stupid.

  “I’m so damned angry at you,” Sofia said to her. Then she aimed that worried stare at Molly.

  Arden looked up with puppy-dog eyes. “I swear, I will never, ever get anyone into this kind of situation ag—”

  The door behind Molly had creaked open, letting out an air-conditioned breeze, and all of them stiffened, turning around.

  Cash stood there in all his glory.

  It was as if every one of Molly’s senses was tuned in to him and his too-long, untamed brown hair and his green, green eyes. In a ridiculously short time, she’d become addicted to the way her blood pounded in all the expected spots around him . . . as well as the unexpected ones.

  The tribal drumbeat in her ears. The trapped flutter of a vein in her neck. The muted throb in her clitoris, getting stronger each second . . .

  Arden broke the moment by standing up so fast that her bench moaned over the concrete. She went to Molly’s side, as if she were protecting her. Sofia scuttled over to Molly’s other side, looking as fierce as a tiny warrior could.

  Cash let the door shut behind him, then leaned against the door frame. Just as if he weren’t the cause of a crapstorm, he coolly reached into his back pocket and brought out his cigarettes, along with that Bettie Page lighter.

  He tapped out a cigarette and stuffed the pack into a front pocket.

  Arrogant. That’s the word that came to mind now as Molly watched him with a narrowed gaze.

  “Well?” Sofia finally said to him.

  He put a cigarette in his mouth and gave her a lowered glance. When he shifted his gaze to Molly, he grinned, the cigarette bobbing in his mouth.

  Everything he did was sex. Foreplay had nothing on just a glance from him, and she couldn’t help imagining him lowering her to a mattress with satin sheets hushed with Vegas neon, easing his length over her, nudging open her legs with a knee, and . . .

  A sharp jerk of lust made Molly fidget with the side of her sundress. Bad habit, back from when she’d been young and dressed in her sister’s used clothes. Now the embarrassment of being scrutinized was more intense than ever, and Cash seemed to notice.

  She stopped with the fidgeting.

  He nodded to her friends and spoke from around the cigarette. “I see you all have talked the matter over.”

  Sofia piped up again. “‘The matter’? Is that what you call it?”

  He didn’t seem amused at her backtalk, and Molly leaned into Sofia, encouraging her to keep the peace.

  Lighting his cigarette, he sucked until the end flared red, then took it out, holding it between two fingers. He blew out smoke and spoke to Arden.

  “We good?”

  Arden started to talk, but Molly thought she should handle this.

  “My friends were about to go to the general store,” she said. “Guys?”

  Sofia whipped her gaze to her, and Molly raised her eyebrow. I’ve got this.

  But did she really?

  Sofia didn’t seem so sure of that, either, but Molly motioned in back of them, toward the general store, and both Sofia and Arden slowly left the courtyard. As they opened the door, Arden offered one last contrite glance.

  Then they were alone—Molly and the man who wanted some “time” with her.

  He was enjoying his smoke, watching her with that sly grin, daring her to say something. Her skin prickled with heat and emerging sweat, and she was certain it wasn’t only because of the stifling weather.

  “I’m dying out here,” she said, fanning herself. She walked toward the saloon door.

  He was in the process of blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth again, and before she could think about what she was doing, she stopped right next to him and said, “Is that really necessary?”

  “What?”

  “Poisoning yourself.” She didn’t know where she got the chutzpah, but she reached up and plucked the cigarette away from him.

  At first, he just stared at her. She got ready to run because maybe this was the moment he would turn into a real biker dude and actually cut her.

  Then his grin returned, and he laughed. Unfortunately, it was the kind of laugh that let her know that she’d better not do anything like that again.

  Point taken.

  “You must still be drunk from the whisky,” he said.

  Maybe she was. “It’s only that I don’t . . .” She was about to say “date smokers.” But she wouldn’t be going on a real date with this guy. “I’d like to be around some clean air, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He opened the door for her, sweeping his arm with a mocking flourish to escort her in. She knew he was poking fun at her prissiness, but that was okay. All she wanted to do was straighten up this mess with him, give him “the pleasure of her company,” and get on with the trip.

  Something inside her gut sank at that, mostly because she suspected that she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted from this trip besides . . . Well, when they’d started out, she hadn’t been sure. But now she liked that her heart was beating faster than it ever had during any of her boring dates. Liked that her head was spinning as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her when all she could breathe in was his scent: leather, soap, and a little tobacco-ey earthiness.

  She leaned over to a nearby ashtray, snuffed out the cigarette, then walked into the saloon, where more tourists and motorcycle enthusiasts had come to crowd the bar. But the tables were empty, and she headed for one in the corner, near the potbellied stove.

  Somehow Cash got there before she did, and he pulled out a chair for her. But to get to it, she had to move past him, and when her hip accidently brushed against his leg, a rush of shivers made her skin scratch with goose bumps.

  As she sat, she rubbed her arms, as if the air conditioner and ceiling fans were making her cold. Sure.

  When he took a chair next to her, he stretched out his jeaned legs, making her much too aware of the muscles beneath the denim, the friction that rose between them even from an inch away.

  He lifted his finger to Kat at the bar, probably asking for drinks, then said, “I suppose it’s a good time for you to let me
have it.”

  Let him have it? As much as her libido liked the phrasing, she got her mind out of the gutter as he spoke again.

  “Your little friend Sofia sure gave me a little shit already. I thought she was the shyest of your group.”

  “Not when it comes to standing up for her friends. Just out of curiosity—does your friend Hooper take tourists to that back room often? Is fleecing tourists a regular thing with him?”

  “When a guest in this saloon wants a game, he gives ’em one.”

  “And how many of those games have you been here for?”

  He smiled. “A few. Had a great one a couple weeks ago.”

  Interesting. So that was how he’d afforded the good whisky he’d bought her?

  She got down to brass tacks. “Here’s the bottom line. Arden can come up with the money if you allow her some time. How long are you willing to give her?”

  It was a long shot. Arden was in no financial shape to be wasting ten thousand dollars. Sofia couldn’t contribute that much, either, and Arden had no family to depend on, so she was in a tight place. Molly’s extra money was going to her sister, and her assets weren’t liquid enough to help Arden out in this much of a pinch. Molly didn’t even have any parents to ask for help.

  “How much time are we talking?” Cash had a hold of his lighter, and he was running his thumb down the casing. Down Bettie Page and her siren’s body.

  Molly could almost feel the caress, but she put all her energy into focusing. “A month. Does that sound reasonable?”

  He fixed that melty green gaze on her, and she almost slid down in her chair to the floor. Then he smiled.

  “If I wanted the money,” he said, “I would’ve already negotiated that with your friend.”

  Oh, oh. And, Oh my God, that was hot.

  Focus, Molly.

  He continued. “Your buddy has the fever—visions of winning the pot on the table were dancing through her head, and she couldn’t stop herself from betting more than she could afford. I can read people, and I could tell she wasn’t good for the ten thou right off the bat.”

  “Then why did you continue playing with her?”

  Cash shrugged those wide shoulders. “I knew what I wanted, and I was gonna get it.”

  What he wanted. Her.

  Beneath her sundress, her nipples went hard, her skin moist.

  She had a choice here, and her body was begging for her to make the decision it wanted. But her brain was saying something else. So was her pride.

  “I’m not for sale,” she said between her teeth.

  He assessed her, his smile growing. Then he outright laughed. And when Kat arrived to set down a glass of whisky for him and a faux ginger ale for her, she gave Cash a hard glance before leaving them alone.

  Pushing back his long hair with one hand, he let out a sigh, putting down the lighter and picking up his drink. “All I want is a date tonight, darlin’. Didn’t your friend tell you that?”

  So Molly hadn’t been wrong?

  It took a moment to absorb everything. This was real. It wasn’t some cute little situation where he was going to go, “Just kidding!” and let Arden off the hook. None of them knew this man or how he’d react to being shafted for ten thousand dollars if Molly didn’t agree to his terms.

  “A date,” she finally said.

  “Yeah, just a date.”

  As reassuring as that should’ve sounded, it wasn’t. “Do I have any input on this?”

  The smile he gave her said that she could name any terms she wanted but he’d get his way in the end. Well, they’d see about that. Molly hadn’t handled multimillion-dollar accounts because she was a brain-dead fool.

  She sat back in her chair, her fingertips touching her sweating soda glass. His gaze strayed there and, impulsively, she traced the moisture on the surface.

  His eyes clouded for a moment before he raised them to her again, hungrier than ever now.

  Her pulse picked up speed.

  It must’ve been obvious that he had a blushing effect on her because he laughed again. “You’re not a person to cross, are you?”

  “My friends and I are very protective of each other.”

  “Especially when it comes to going on a date with someone like me.”

  “I don’t generally associate with bikers, so you’ll have to excuse my wariness.”

  His smile tapered off. “I’m not a biker.”

  Right.

  “No lie,” he said. “I’ve got a black classic Ford Thunderbird parked at the side of this building. Not exactly biker-issue.”

  If he wasn’t a biker, then what was he? Whatever it was, the look on his face when he’d spoken about the car said volumes: it was his pride and joy, and he didn’t like being categorized.

  Was it weird that this comforted her slightly?

  And who was she to talk about “weird” when she’d already jumped down the rabbit hole with her friends today?

  She grabbed one of the cocktail napkins the bartender had set on the table, took a pen from the purse over her chest, and started to scribble.

  “I’m sure you’ve signed contracts before,” she said.

  He only chuckled in resignation, then took a slug of whisky.

  When she finished, she pushed the napkin to him. “This basically says that you’re excusing Arden Pope from the ten thousand dollars she owes you after you and I go on this date. Please sign the bottom.”

  He put down his drink and nudged it away, motioning to Kat the bartender again. “Let’s get a witness over here, just to make this extra official.”

  He shot her a smart-ass smile, and as he held the pen, she noticed how long his fingers were. That gave her the sexy shivers all over again. So did the fact that she was negotiating a freakin’ date with Mystery Man.

  “By the way, is this in triplicate? Do I get a copy?” he asked sarcastically, looking the napkin over as Kat arrived at the table.

  “I could . . .”

  “Never mind.” He looked up at Kat. “I’m signing a very serious document here. You’re seeing me in action, right?”

  “Right.” Kat didn’t blink an eye. She’d probably witnessed kookier things in this saloon.

  With a flowing jumble of letters, Cash signed the napkin, then gave it and the pen to Kat. She signed, too, and walked off to continue manning the bar.

  So it was done. No matter how you said it, Molly had agreed to sell herself, and in a warped way, it turned her on.

  Ignoring the rush, she looked over the napkin. “I can’t read your name.”

  “It’s there.”

  “I’d like to print your full name under the signature.”

  “Hell.” He sighed gruffly. “It’s . . .”

  He said something she didn’t understand before he got to his last name, which was Campbell. She marked that down.

  “What was the first part again? It doesn’t look like ‘Cash.’”

  He muttered it one more time, and she sent him an exasperated look.

  “Beauregard,” he said dismissively. “Beau.”

  Wait. “I thought your name was Cash.”

  “Nickname.”

  “Because you’re a cardsharp?”

  “Right. But no one calls me anything but Cash.”

  Whoa, he was kind of touchy about this. Beau was a good name. A gentleman’s name, very old-fashioned. Maybe that’s why he’d ditched it.

  But he’d been forthcoming, so she didn’t dwell. She was even surprised he’d played along by signing his supposedly full name.

  She shoved the napkin and pen in her purse. “I’ll need a bit of time to check in to the hotel with my friends and . . .” Take a cold shower? Probably that, too.

  “Caesars Palace?” he asked. At her startled look, he added, “Arden mentioned it during the
poker game.”

  “Great.” Clearly, Arden had given more away than money. Molly only hoped her friend hadn’t blabbed too much.

  Cash said, “There’re a lot of bars in Caesars, but there’s one you’ll probably like in particular. The Seahorse Lounge.”

  “Is that where we’ll meet?”

  He leaned closer and gave a slow look at her hair, which she hadn’t bothered to put back into its bun.

  “Yeah, we’ll meet there,” he said. “It reminds me of mermaids.” He reached out to touch her hair. “And so do you.”

  If her hair had nerve endings, it’d be on fire. Her skin definitely was, flames licking up and down her arms, her chest . . . everywhere else. Tickling, lapping, promising better things to come.

  Not knowing what else to do, she stood. “I’ll see you in four hours at the Seahorse Lounge, then.” She’d already started walking away. “For drinks.”

  He smiled, as if thinking that he was going to get a hell of a lot more than drinks tonight if he could manage it.

  6

  Four hours later, Cash sat in the agreed-upon lounge, surrounded by soft green and blue lights. Seahorse statues leaned out of the beige walls behind the bar, flanking a topless, inviting mermaid, but the rounded aquarium in the center was innocent and serene, nearly blocking out the trilling music of slot machines and pop songs from the sound system.

  As he crossed a booted ankle over his thigh, he started to go for the pack of smokes he’d tossed on the table, then decided against it. Molly P. Preston didn’t like the habit, and even though she’d be surrounded by it during her stay in this town, he’d go along with her conditions. For now.

  Until he could talk her in to where he wanted her to be by the end of the night.

  “Anything else I can get you?” asked the cocktail waitress as she bent her knees and slid his club soda onto the table. She smiled at him, tall and ladylike.

  Normally, Cash wouldn’t have hesitated to let her know what else she could get him, but the woman wore a wedding ring. More important, Molly was going to be here soon, and nothing was going to put out this fire tonight except for her. Afterward, he could move on to the next game, then the next.