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  Trouble in Chaps

  Ciana Stone

  Book three in the Sequins, Saddles and Spurs series.

  Roxie may have broken down in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas, but she darn sure doesn’t plan on staying any longer than it takes to get the land yacht she arrived in up and running.

  But you know what they say about the best-laid plans. Cliff was a complication she hadn’t counted on. The man looks like walking sex and he’s determined that before Roxie hightails it out of town, she’ll share his bed. So he offers her a job at his bar, Chaps, to keep her close—and adds a sexy bet on top of it.

  If she wins, he finances her escape from Nowheresville. If he wins, she stays for six months, keeping bar by day and keeping him warm at night. It’s a wager she can’t resist—and one she can’t lose.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Trouble in Chaps

  ISBN 9781419929939

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Trouble in Chaps Copyright © 2010 Ciana Stone

  Edited by Meghan M. Conrad

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication November 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Trouble in Chaps

  Ciana Stone

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Hallmark: Hallmark Licensing, Inc.

  Left 4 Dead: Valve Corporation

  Xbox: Microsoft Corporation

  Chapter One

  Roxie watched her friend Lola leave the café. This day had to go down in the record books as one of the worst. It wasn’t bad enough that the 1966 Cadillac they’d left Vegas in had broken down. It’d broken down in Texas. Mesa Blanco, Texas, to be precise.

  Roxie thought Bumfuck, Texas, would have been more apt. With a population that boasted of just over three thousand residents, according to the sign at the edge of town, the likelihood of finding a job that would not only enable her to pay for a place to stay but save enough to fix the car was remote.

  “So, what’d you do in Vegas, Roxie?”

  The deep, male voice from across the table had visions of something other than a job dancing in Roxie’s head. Something along the lines of sweat-slicked skin, tangled sheets and low grunts of pleasure.

  “This and that,” she responded, turning her attention to the man seated across from her, Cliff Beckett.

  Tall and lean, Cliff had the kind of build that made her mouth water. She forced aside the erotic images that sprang to mind and lifted her near-empty soda glass to jiggle the ice cubes.

  “Ever work in a bar?”

  One eyebrow arched. “You offering me a job, Mr. Beckett?”

  “Cliff.”

  Roxie resisted the urge to shift in her seat. The way he was looking at her made it hard to keep her mind on business. “Well?” she asked.

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “How are you at tending bar?”

  “I’ve mixed a drink or two.”

  “Most of my customers fall into the beer category.”

  She smiled in spite of herself. “Then I’ve twisted a few caps.”

  “Waited tables?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “Dealt with rowdy fellas who’ve maybe had one too many on a Friday night?”

  That prompted a laugh. “Honey, I lived in Vegas.”

  Cliff chuckled. “Which brings me back to my original question. What exactly did you do in Vegas? Showgirl, dancer?”

  Roxie laughed. “No, that’s Lola’s thing.”

  “And yours was…?”

  “Security.”

  That wasn’t an answer Cliff expected. Roxie looked more like the beauties that can be found on a stage in Vegas. Busty, built and legs that made a man fantasize about what it would feel like to have them wrapped around him.

  “Security?”

  “Yep.”

  “As in bouncer?”

  “Yeah, I did that. Did most all of it but for the last few years I worked the high-stakes games.”

  Cliff knew what she meant. When there was a lot on the table, most casinos had specialists watching. Not just from cameras but on the floor. Most people would never recognize the specialists. They dressed like everyone else and often sat in on the games.

  And were the most lethal people in the world to play against because their “specialty” was spotting cheats. They knew all the tricks and most of them were banned from gambling.

  “Well, I don’t have much of a call for that at Chaps. But I can offer you a job if you’re interested.”

  “How much do you pay?”

  “You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Roxie?”

  “What’s the point? How much?”

  “Minimum wage plus tips.”

  She surprised him again when she stood. “Thanks, anyway. I think I’ll see if there isn’t something else available that pays a bit better.”

  “Ten an hour plus tips.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. Why was that? Sure, Roxie was one hot babe that he’d purely love to get between the sheets, but attractive women were a dime a dozen. Why did he suddenly have an itch to have her around? And why the hell was he offering her nearly eight dollars more an hour than minimum wage?

  She sat back down. “How much does it cost for a room at that place…what was it?”

  “Mrs. Chester’s Boarding House.”

  “Yeah, how much?”

  “She’d probably cut you a deal. Hundred a week without meals and laundry services.”

  Roxie mentally calculated. At sixteen hundred a month base salary, minus four hundred for rent, she had twelve hundred left plus whatever tips she made. And if Chaps was like most other bars in America, her tips could easily match her base pay.

  Then there was food. From the prices on the menu at the Blue Belle Café, it’d cost at least a hundred a week for food. That brought her to eight hundred, plus what she made in tips. She could put more into the car fund than what it would take to live. And the car repairs were liable to be expensive. Chances were the parts would be hard to find, which would drive the price up. She wasn’t all that experienced in auto repair, but she was guessing it would cost them somewhere in the neighborhood of three to four thousand to get the land yacht back on the road. If she wanted to get the heck out of Dodge—or Mesa Blanco—as quickly as possible, she was going to need to earn a lot more than ten dollars an hour.

  “Twenty-five an hour,” she finally said, meeting his eyes.

  Cliff snorted. “I can hire three gals for tha
t price.”

  “Not three with my experience.”

  “Fifteen an hour.”

  “Twenty.”

  Cliff smiled at her, a lazy, knowing smile she’d seen more than once. It was the smile of a gambler who was holding a pat hand. Funny thing was that she’d never seen that smile look quite so sexy, or had it affect her with a sudden tightening of her nipples and warmth that spread down straight into her crotch.

  “Three to closing, Wednesday through Saturday.”

  Roxie couldn’t believe he’d agreed. They both knew that the offer was about nine hundred percent more than he was required to pay. But she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “What time’s closing?”

  “Two a.m. Hour for dinner and fifteen minute break every two hours. You get one meal per shift and all the water and soft drinks you can hold but no alcohol unless you pay—half price for employees.”

  She considered it for a brief moment. With that pay and if the repairs on the car weren’t too much, she’d be bidding farewell to Mesa Blanco inside a month.

  “Done. When do I start?”

  “Tonight’s as good as any.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mr. Beckett.”

  “Cliff.”

  “Not as long as I work for you.”

  The message was all too clear. Hands off. Cliff felt a grin rising on his face. He loved a challenge and Roxie Ellis just might prove to be a very stimulating one. “Have it your way. I’ll expect you by five. That should give you time to get settled and changed.”

  “Into what?”

  “You got any cut-off jeans?”

  “I have a pair I can cut.”

  “That’ll do. I’ll have a Chaps t-shirt sent over to the boarding house for you.”

  She stood and offered her hand. “Thanks. I’ll see you at five.”

  Cliff rose and took her hand. “Don’t disappoint me, Roxie.”

  She met his eyes with a sassy expression that had heat starting to simmer in his belly. “Not in my vocabulary, Mr. Beckett.”

  With that, she pulled her hand from his, turned and left without a backward glance. Cliff reclaimed his seat, staring thoughtfully at the door. He’d have to call his guy and get the scoop on Roxie Ellis. There was more to her story than just a woman who’d thrown in the towel on a whim and high-tailed it out of Vegas. And he was going to find out what it was.

  Chapter Two

  Roxie turned in front of the mirror. When Cliff said he’d have a shirt sent to her, she’d assumed it would be a standard t-shirt. Not a spaghetti-strapped, tight, white, cropped-off top that showed as much as it covered.

  There was no way to put a bra under it. Well, maybe a strapless one, which she didn’t own. And forget borrowing one from Lola, who probably had a dozen. Roxie would have to invest in extra socks to fill Lola’s cups.

  At least the wording on the front of the shirt covered her breasts, obscuring her nipples. Do it in Chaps was stamped boldly in red.

  Cheesy, but cute, she thought. And now her official work uniform. Damn, why the hell did she leave Las Vegas?

  That thought caused a tightening of her jaw and brought a hard glint to her eyes. Not even Lola and Emily knew the real reason she agreed to leave with them. It wasn’t something she was willing to share with anyone. Besides, what was done was done and right now she had to focus on making enough to have the car fixed so she could leave this two-horse town and get on with her life.

  As she brushed her hair, her thoughts turned to her new job and her new boss. She’d always made a point not to get involved with people she worked with. It caused too many complications when it didn’t work out. And in Roxie’s experience, relationships never really worked out.

  Cliff Beckett was going to make it hard to stick to her rule. The man was lethal. And it wasn’t just his dark hair that was a shade too long to be fashionable, eyes the color of storm clouds and a face that would not be easy to forget. Maybe that gambler’s air about him. That air that said the bigger the stakes and the more he had on the line, the better he liked it.

  There was an intensity to him that the good-old-boy façade couldn’t cover. And that was lethal. At least for her. Which spelled trouble with a capital T. Bottom line? She had to keep her hands off Cliff Beckett. Regardless of how much she’d like to dive into the tantalizing pool of temptation, she had to steer clear.

  With her resolve firm, she headed out the door for her first night of work.

  “Want another hit?”

  Cliff turned his attention away from the schedule on the bar in front of him to look up at the waitress, Diane, behind the bar. She held a carafe of coffee. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “So the new girl starts tonight?”

  “Yep.” Cliff hid a smile. Mesa Blanco was a small town and it didn’t take high-speed cable, smart phones or the internet for news spread faster than wild fire. By now, half the people in town knew Roxie and her friends had broken down. Probably knew that Emily was on Wyatt’s ranch, that Lola had been hired at the Blue Belle and that Chaps was getting a new waitress.

  He’d lay odds that tonight’s crowd would be bigger than normal just out of curiosity. It was the way of small towns. Not much happened out of the ordinary and when something did, everyone was curious.

  “Shit, there go my tips.” Diane muttered, her eyes turned toward the door.

  Cliff turned his eye to follow the direction of her eyes and a spear of heat spiked through him. Roxie.

  Christ on a crutch. What she did for a tank top and cut-off jeans was a sin. A tempting, dead-sexy sin. The tank top was tight enough to have been painted on, accenting her full breasts and exposing her from mid-torso to the top of the low-riding jeans that had been cut off short enough to make a man hope he’d see her bend over.

  Over-the-knee black leather boots showcased thighs that brought images best left for wet dreams to mind.

  “Mr. Beckett,” she said as she stopped beside him.

  “Roxie.”

  “Where do you want me?”

  The sudden swell of erection at her words had several suggestions spring to mind. In his bed, on the bar, the floor, bent across a table. There was a multitude of places he’d like to have her.

  “Why don’t you start behind the bar?”

  “Will do.” She turned her attention to Diane. “Hi, I’m Roxie.”

  “Diane.”

  “Nice to meet you. You mind showing me the ropes?”

  Diane cut her eyes at Cliff then back to Roxie. “Sure. Come on back.”

  Cliff couldn’t help but watch as Roxie turned. Oh, damn. The way the denim hugged her ass was criminal. He better keep her behind the bar. Sure as shit, there’d be more than one fella who tried to get his hands on that.

  A surge of jealously shocked him. What the hell? Was he experiencing some kind of alpha male thing? He didn’t even know the woman and already he was dealing with an uncomfortable hard-on and jealousy over the idea of another man’s hands on her.

  He gave it some thought as he watched Diane go over things with her. Roxie got to him and he knew himself well enough to know that he’d never be satisfied until he had her. And being a gambler, the challenge of winning her had appeal.

  A smile came to his face. Winning Roxie was now the goal. But the key was making her come to him. And she would. He just had to figure out the right buttons to push.

  Yes, he was definitely going to have Roxie. Looked as if it was going to be an interesting time in Mesa Blanco after all.

  Roxie could feel Cliff’s eyes on her. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant sensation. In fact, quite the opposite. But she was determined to ignore it. She had ignored it for almost a week and it was starting to wear her down.

  She was keeping herself awake at night imagining the damn man’s hands on her and hers on him. She either needed to get laid or find a damn sex toy store because she was close to a meltdown.

  By eight o’clock the place was packed and she’d popped so many bee
r tops she resolved to scout out the local stores tomorrow and find a nice, thick, silver ring for her thumb. That was a trick she’d learned long ago. Wearing a thumb ring helped you pop a beer top without an opener and saved you from ending up with blisters.

  “Hon, why don’t you take a break,” Diane said as Roxie rang up another sale. “Slip on back to the office and put your feet up for a few.”

  “Thanks.” Roxie gave her a smile. She grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler and headed through the kitchen behind the bar to the office. Thankfully, it was empty.

  The moment she closed the door, the din of noise dampened. She took a long drink of water and leaned back against the door.

  “How’s it going?”

  The sound of Cliff’s voice had her springing away from the door. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were here. Diane told me it was okay to take a break in here.”

  “Fine by me. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “What?”

  “Taking a break.”

  “From?”

  He chuckled and ignored the question. “You seem to have caught on to things. Diane says you’re raking in the tips.”

  “It’s not rocket science,” she replied, stemming the urge to back away as he rose from his seat at the desk and approached.

  “That it’s not.”

  She waited for him to say more but he simply leaned one shoulder against the wall and regarded her with that slow sexy smile. “Customers like you.”

  “Or the beer.” She wasn’t stupid. She’d been hit on and flirted with before tonight. And knew how to give just enough flirt in return to ensure a good tip but not leave the impression that she was available.

  Cliff’s smile widened. “Honey, they can get that beer all they want. You, on the other hand—you’re a temptation they haven’t tasted.”

  “And aren’t likely to.” She met his eyes to show him that she was not kidding.