Redeemed by the Cowgirl (Mills & Boon Desire)

by Silver James

The Cheshire cat once more, Max grinned. “Until we need more.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Copies will inconveniently show up several places—the government, rival media outlets. I wonder what the Senate ethics committee would make of this? Nevada gaming commission? EPA?” Max’s eyes cut to Roxie. “And my daughter will be implicated as your coconspirator.”

  Her sharp intake of breath was almost silent but Cash heard it, and then felt her stiffen, then collapse next to him. Yeah, she was right. His father had been a cold and vicious piece of work but her father was ten times the monster.

  “So you’re saying Roxanne had nothing to do with this?”

  Max and his sons all laughed, but it was Dexter who explained. “The stupid twit is too sentimental and honest. We set her up just like we did you. If she’d just hidden that stuff all those years ago, we’d all be in the clear.”

  Cash’s frigid smile rivaled Max’s. “That’s all I needed to know.”

  Before anyone could move, hotel security and Las Vegas cops poured through the door. Within moments, the Rowlands were handcuffed and marched out. Cash stood frozen in place as he realized all of his brothers were there. It was Chase who approached.

  “An apology is pretty meaningless, Cash, even when it comes from the heart. I’m sorry. For everything. I had no idea...” Chase gestured toward their other brothers. “We had no idea, but we should have. We knew what the old man was like, how he could twist things. And we left you hanging.”

  A moment later, Cash was swallowed in Chase’s hug, then the rest of his brothers stepped up to offer their own apologies and hugs. Family. He’d found his again and he had to blink back tears. A flash of red caught his attention. Roxie. She slipped out the door without a word or a backward glance.

  Chase chuckled and clapped him on the back. “Go after her, Cash. And when you’re ready, I just happen to know a Liberace impersonator who does weddings.”

  * * *

  Cash caught up to Roxanne at the elevator. “Where ya goin’, Red?”

  The door opened and he stepped in with her, keying in the code for the top floor. She eyed him warily and he couldn’t blame her. “I’m sorry.” Apologies never came easy and he was surprised the words didn’t stick in his throat. “I’m sorry your family betrayed you. I’m sorry I...” Now it got hard. “I should have trusted you. And I was wrong. I need you, Roxie. And I want you. What do I need to do to get you to forgive me?”

  She silently got off the elevator with him when it stopped. He led her to his suite and ushered her inside. He smiled, remembering her parting words. “How much groveling will it take?”

  That startled a laugh out of her, and he saw the insecurity, saw her own need for acceptance and love. She was everything he wanted and didn’t know how to find. She had so many layers and he wanted to spend the rest of his life peeling them back, discovering the fascinating woman she was. She fit him in ways no one else ever had, or ever would.

  Fingering the sparkly straps of her dress, he slipped them off her shoulders, pushed the silky dress down, found the clasp under the crystal-covered brooch at her hip and watched the dress float to the floor around her ankles. He cupped her cheeks, kissed her gently despite his overwhelming need to take her, conquer her, claim her. He needed to be gentle.

  “I want to make love to you.”

  She nodded and slipped out of her heels, stepped over the puddled silk. He picked her up, carried her to the bed. She watched him strip out of his clothes, then he joined her. Cash drew her to him, stroking her hair back from her face. An unfamiliar emotion welled up. Love. This must be what love felt like. He kissed her, cupped her, stroked and petted until she sighed, the long, contented sound of it a balm on his wounded heart.

  He vowed to cherish her because no one ever had. It was easy to be tender, to put the dreamy look in her eyes he now enjoyed. He would spend his life proving how precious she was to him—if she’d give him the chance.

  Using all his skill, he teased her until she was begging.

  “Please, Cash. Inside me now. Please!”

  “Not yet. Not until you say you’ll marry me.”

  “Marry you?”

  “Yes. Marry me.”

  “That’s blackmail.”

  “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

  Roxie laughed, as if she couldn’t help it. “Yes.” She giggled, then her breath caught as he slid deep inside her. “Oh, yes,” she moaned. “Just like that.”

  He rocked against her and caught a glint of mischief in her golden eyes. “What?”

  “I should tell you something.”

  “Oh?” He pulled almost free of her.

  “Yeah. The only reason I said yes is because Harley likes you.”

  “So...if that walking furbag didn’t like me, you would have said no?” He held still, hovering, barely holding their connection.

  “I would have agreed to a mad affair.” He reached between them, found the spot guaranteed to drive her wild. “Maybe agreed to be your mist—aah.” She sucked in her breath, quivering as she arched her hips against his touch.

  “You love me. Admit it.” The need in his voice surprised him, and from the look on Roxie’s face, it caught her off guard, too.

  She hooked her legs around him, her heels pushing against his butt until he was seated deeply inside her again. “With all my heart. I love you.”

  Cash gritted his teeth, struggling to hold back. Being with Roxie, connecting to her emotionally and physically...it hijacked his self-control. “I love you. And it’s my duty to make you happy.” He growled the words, pumping into her furiously now. He drove them both over the edge and when they fell back to earth, he discovered something precious.

  “Home,” he murmured. “You feel like home, Roxie.”

  Epilogue

  Harley was on his best behavior, though he watched the swimming pool with obvious gusto. Cash stared until the dog eyed him guiltily and sat down next to the judge. Cash waited under a rustic arbor made of branches and twined with flowers, flanked by his solemn brothers. Well, all but Chase. Cash’s twin grinned like a fool.

  All the Tates were in attendance, some with plus-ones. His sisters-in-law sat together. More fences needed to be mended there. He’d promised Roxie he’d try, and she’d promised to help. His gaze fell on Kade Waite, and he recognized a kindred spirit. He resolved to look into that situation, too. The man who might be a Barron brother stood off to the side with Pippa Duncan. Interesting.

  At that moment, Leo, looking like a fashion plate in his dove-gray tuxedo, emerged from the house. Big John appeared, Roxie on his arm. Deacon strummed a complicated melody on an acoustic guitar as Cash’s bride glided toward him.

  Their vows were simple. They promised to remain true to each other in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, through failures and triumphs. They vowed to respect, comfort and encourage, to dream, share and cherish, for as long as they lived. Then the judge pronounced them husband and wife. Cash branded Roxie with his kiss, one as deep and abiding as his love for this woman.

  After dinner, Leo stood and pinged a champagne flute with his fork. “I need y’all’s attention!” When he had it, he turned to Roxie. “Girlfriend, I am so happy you finally took my advice and snagged this fine, fine piece of man candy.” He sniffled dramatically and dabbed at his eyes. “You make me so proud.” He tossed back the champagne in his glass and sat.

  Chase rose next, waiting while people quieted. “To my brother Cash and his beautiful bride. From this day forward, you will never walk alone. May your heart shelter the other always and may you always find your way home in each other’s arms.”

  Lifting Roxie’s left hand, Cash kissed her wedding ring. “You are my home, Roxanne Barron. You are my life, my heart, the very best of me. Now and always.”

  He brushed her tears away with his thumbs as he cupped her face and kissed her. They’d both searched all their lives for love and acceptance, and had found them in eac
h other. She whispered against his lips, “You are my home and family. I love you.”

  Those were the words he needed. Together, they discovered the family they hadn’t dared dream of. “Yes,” he agreed. He was a man who understood his duty to family—and to the woman he loved.

  * * * * *

  EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT

  Read on for a sneak preview of

  Paper Wedding, Best-Friend Bride

  by Sheri WhiteFeather

  One

  Lizzie McQueen emerged from a graceful dip in Max Marquez’s black-bottom pool, water glistening on her bikini-clad body.

  Reminiscent of a slow-motion scene depicted in a movie, she stepped onto the pavement and reached for a towel, and he watched every long-legged move she made. While she dried herself off, he swigged his root beer and pretended that he wasn’t checking out her perfectly formed cleavage or gold pierced navel or—

  “Come on, Max, quit giving me the look.”

  Caught in the act, he dribbled the stupid drink down his chin. She shook her head and tossed him her towel. He cursed beneath his breath and wiped his face.

  The look was code for when either of them ogled the other in an inappropriate manner. They’d agreed quite a while ago that sex, or anything that could possibly lead to it, was off the table. They cared too much about each other to ruin their friendship with a few deliciously hot romps in the sack. Even now, at thirty years old, they held a platonic promise between them.

  She smoothed back her fiery red hair, placed a big, floppy hat on her head and stretched out on the chaise next to him. Max lived in a 1930s Beachwood Canyon mansion, and Lizzie resided in an ultra-modern condo. She spent more time at his place than he did at hers because he preferred it that way. His Los Angeles lair was bigger, badder and much more private.

  He returned the towel, only now it had his soda stain on it. She rolled her eyes, and they shared a companionable grin.

  He handed her a bottle of sunscreen. “You better reapply this.”

  She sighed. “Me and my sensitive skin.”

  He liked her ivory complexion. But he’d seen her get some nasty sunburns, too. He didn’t envy her that. She slathered on the lotion, and he considered how they’d met during their senior year in high school. They were being paired up on a chemistry project, and, even then, she’d struck him as a debutant-type girl.

  Later he’d learned that she was originally from Savannah, Georgia, with ties to old money. In that regard, his assessment of her had been correct, and just being near her had sent his boyhood longings into a tailspin. Not only was she gorgeous; she was everything he’d wanted to be: rich, prestigious, popular.

  But Max had bottomed out on the other end of the spectrum: a skinny, dorky Native American foster kid with a genius IQ and gawky social skills, leaving him open to scorn and ridicule.

  Of course, Lizzie’s life hadn’t been as charmed as he’d assumed it was. Once he’d gotten to know her, she’d revealed her deepest, darkest secrets to him, just as he’d told her his.

  Supposedly during that time, when they were pouring their angst-riddled hearts out to each other, she’d actually formed a bit of a crush on him. But even till this day, he found that hard to fathom. In what alternate universe did prom queens get infatuated with dorks?

  She peered at him from beneath the fashionable brim of her pale beige hat. Her bathing suit was a shimmering shade of copper with a leopard-print trim, and her meticulously manicured nails were painted a soft warm pink. Every lovely thing about her purred, “trust fund heiress,” which was exactly what she was.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  He casually answered, “What a nerd I used to be.”

  She teased him with a smile. “As opposed to the sexy billionaire you are today?”

  “Right.” He laughed a little. “Because nothing says beefcake like a software designer and internet entrepreneur.”

  She moved her gaze along the muscle-whipped length of his body. “You’ve done all right for yourself.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Now who’s giving who the look?”

  She shrugged off her offense. “You shouldn’t have become such a hottie if you didn’t want to get noticed.”

  That wasn’t the reason he’d bulked up, and she darned well knew it. Sure, he’d wanted to shed his nerdy image, but he’d started hitting the gym after high school for more than aesthetic purposes. His favorite sport was boxing. Sometimes he shadowboxed and sometimes he pounded the crap out of a heavy bag. But mostly he did it to try to pummel the demons that plagued him. He was a runner, too. So was Lizzie. They ran like a tornado was chasing them. Or their pasts, which was pretty much the same thing.

  “Beauty and the brainiac,” he said. “We were such a teenage cliché.”

  “Why, because you offered to tutor me when I needed it? That doesn’t make us a cliché. Without your help, I would never have gotten my grades up to par or attended my mother’s alma mater.”

  Silent, Max nodded. She’d also been accepted into her mom’s old sorority, which had been another of her goals. But none of that had brought her the comfort she’d sought.

  “The twentieth anniversary is coming up,” she said.

  Of her mom’s suicide, he thought. Lizzie was ten when her high-society mother had swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills. “I’m sorry you keep reliving it.” She mentioned it every year around this time, and even now he could see her childhood pain.

  She put the sunscreen aside, placing it on a side table, where her untouched iced tea sat. “I wish I could forget about her.”

  “I know.” He couldn’t get his mom out of his head, either, especially the day she’d abandoned him, leaving him alone in their run-down apartment. He was eight years old, and she’d parked him in front of the TV, warning him to stay there until she got back. She was only supposed to be gone for a few hours, just long enough to score the crack she routinely smoked. Max waited for her return, but she never showed up. Scared out of his young mind, he’d fended for himself for three whole days, until he’d gone to a neighbor for help. “My memories will probably never stop haunting me, either.”

  “We do have our issues.”

  “Yeah, we do.” Max was rescued and placed in foster care, and a warrant was issued for his mom’s arrest. But she’d already hit the road with her latest loser boyfriend, where she’d partied too hard and overdosed before the police caught up with her.

  “What would you say to your mother if she was still alive?” Lizzie asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You wouldn’t tell her off?”

  “No.” He wouldn’t say a single word to her.

  “You wouldn’t even ask her why she used to hurt you?”

  Max shook his head. There wasn’t an answer in the world that would make sense, so what would be the point? When Mom hadn’t been kicking him with her cheap high heels or smacking him around, she’d taken to burning him with cigarette butts and daring him not to cry. But her most common form of punishment was locking him in his closet, where she’d told him that the Lakota two-faced monsters dwelled.

  The legends about these humanoid creatures varied. In some tales, it was a woman who’d been turned into this type of being after trying to seduce the sun god. One of her faces was beautiful, while the other was hideous. In other stories, it was a man with a second face on the back of his head. Making eye contact with him would get you tortured and killed. Cannibalism and kidnapping were among his misdeeds, too, with a malevolent glee for preying on misbehaving children.

  The hours Max had spent in his darkened closet, cowering from the monsters and praying for his drugged-out mother to remove the chair that barred the door, would never go away.

  He cleared his throat and said, “Mom’s worst crime was her insistence that she loved me. But you already know all this.” He polished off the last of his root beer and crushed the can between his palms, squeezing the aluminum down to nearly nothing. He repeated an
other thing she already knew. “I swear, I never want to hear another woman say that to me again.”

  “I could do without someone saying that to me, too. Sure, love is supposed to be the cure-all, but not for...”

  “People like us?”

  She nodded, and he thought about how they tumbled in and out of affairs. Max went through his lovers like wine. Lizzie wasn’t any better. She didn’t get attached to her bedmates, either.

  “At least I have my charity work,” she said.

  He was heavily involved in nonprofits, too, with it being a significant part of his life. “Do you think it’s enough?”

  “What?” She raised her delicately arched brows. “Helping other people? Of course it is.”

  “Then why am I still so dissatisfied?” He paused to study the sparkling blue of her eyes and the way her hair was curling in damp waves around her shoulders. “And why are you still stressing over your mom’s anniversary?”

  She picked up her tea, sipped, put it back down. “We’re only human.”

  “I know. But I should be ashamed of myself for feeling this way. I got everything I ever wanted. I mean, seriously, look at this place.” He scowled at his opulent surroundings. How rich and privileged and spoiled could he be?

  “I thought your sabbatical helped.” She seemed to be evaluating how long he’d been gone, separating himself from her and everyone else.

  He’d taken nearly a year off to travel the world, to search for inner peace. He’d also visited hospitals and orphanages and places where he’d hoped to make a difference. “The most significant part of that experience was the months I spent in Nulah. It’s a small island country in the South Pacific. I’d never been there before, so I didn’t really know what to expect. Anyway, what affected me was this kid I came across in an orphanage there. A five-year-old boy named Tokoni.”

  She cocked her head. “Why haven’t you mentioned him before now?”

  “I don’t know.” He conjured up an image of the child’s big brown eyes and dazzling smile. “Maybe I was trying to keep him to myself a little longer and imagine him with the family his mother wanted him to have. When he was two, she left him at the orphanage, hoping that someone would adopt him and give him a better life. She wasn’t abusive to him, like my mother was to me. She just knew that she couldn’t take proper care of him. Nulah is traditional in some areas, with old-world views, and rough and dangerous in others. It didn’t used to be so divided, but it started suffering from outside influences.”