Luck of the Draw

by Julie Lence

Overview

Royce Weston knows firsthand women are exceptional liars, especially the one who cheated him at the poker table and then wormed her way into his family's good graces by claiming amnesia. Since Paige didn't heed his advice to leave town, he reasons a bit of "friendly" persuasion is needed to send her packing from Wooded Acres. But when she matches him trick for trick and has his ranch hands jumping to please her, Royce knows he's met his match. A simpering miss she is not. Sassy and daring; if only she'd give him a reason to trust her.

Paige knows Royce wants her gone, but she's convinced he knows something about her past. Until he tells her, she isn't going anywhere. Matching wits with him isn't all that hard, especially when she discovers there's more to him than bark and brawn. If she tames this rough and tough cowboy, she'll enjoy a reward better than any poker ante. And any girl will tell you, it's not how she play the cards, it's the Luck of the Draw that counts.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781492986195
Publisher:	CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date:	07/01/2007
Series:	Weston Family , #1
Pages:	330
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.69(d)

Read an Excerpt

"Are you gonna start talking or do I have to get mean?"

"I..." Paige hesitated.

"Yes?" He leaned closer and raised his brow.

Paige took a deep breath and slowly released it. She noticed the glint in his eye was the same from the poker game but past that steely gaze was something entirely different.

He gripped her arm, straightened, and hauled her up against him. His right hand fisted in her hair and gave it a hard tug. "Talk," he demanded, twisting her hair around his hand.

His blue eyes darkened and her pulse quickened. He was angry for having been duped and he had the power to hurt her, but ... Again, she looked past the glint in his eyes. His vulnerability, though scant, was still there if one took the time to look.

"You've got to get out of here," she urged. "If you don't, my pa and brother will knock you out and steal from you."

"Is that so? And what makes you think I'll let them do that?"

"Please, you haven't got much time. Leave before they find me. Please?" she implored.

"Maybe I'll stick around for the real game."

"No! If Pa learns I told you the truth..." She flinched. "Please, just leave. You have your money and you haven't been hurt."

"Haven't I? I won you fair and square. I think I should get what's due me."

"You didn't win." She winced when he tugged her hair again. "Pa stacked the deck so you wouldwin."

"Sonofabitch!" He released her so suddenly she fell back against the bed.

"Please?" She tried one last time. "Leave before it's too late."

His fist thudded into the wall, and Paige cringed. His left fist quickly followed, chipping the plaster, and then he was quiet for a moment. But the moment was long enough for her to notice his broad, muscular back was pinched tight with tension.

"What's your real age?"

"I'm nineteen," she answered, puzzled by his interest.

"Well, Missy, this is your lucky night. I'll leave, but if I ever catch you in another saloon in Coyote, I will break you in half-woman or no woman," he stressed, leaning over her. "That pa of yours is one sonofabitch. You keep him out of this town or I'll do worse damage to him."

Without warning, he dropped his full weight on her, crushing her into the mattress and covering her mouth in a kiss. Unlike the other times she'd been kissed, his lips weren't slobbering or mushy. His kiss was hard and bruising, yet enticing and warm, asking for a response.

Paige lay still beneath him, allowing him to continue. She had been through this routine so many times, knew in a few minutes her brother would ... the window was locked! Adam wouldn't be saving her anytime soon, and her eyes widened in fear. Royce was so big, his body twice as wide as hers. He could do whatever he wanted to her. Hysteria bubbled inside of her, and she pushed against his powerful shoulders in a useless attempt to move him. His large hand cupped her breast, roughly tweaking her nipple through her dress, and she cried out from the sharp stab of pain.

Her cry must have held some weight with him because he suddenly switched tactics. He was no longer grabbing her breast painfully, he was caressing her erect nipple with sure, gentle strokes. The feeling was unlike anything she'd experienced, and she sighed contentedly. When she did, he eased his suffocating weight from her chest and slid his tongue inside of her mouth, tasting her in a way that evoked twinges of feeling from deep inside her soul.

Acting on those feelings, she didn't fight him. Instead, she thrust her breast into his warm palm, begging for more of his attention. Her tongue tangled with his, and for the first time the taste of stale beer and tobacco didn't repulse her. She entwined her arms around his neck, greedily kissing him, as he was her, reveling in the hardness of his body when the sweet sensation coiling through her was shattered.