Gamble of a Lifetime Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Gamble of a Lifetime

  ISBN 9781419913631

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Gamble of a Lifetime Copyright © 2007 Eileen Ann Brennan

  Edited by Ann Leveille.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication October 2007

  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.

  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.

  Gamble of a Lifetime

  Eileen Ann Brennan

  Dedication

  To Diann for your unwavering encouragement.

  To Mike, Andy and Elizabeth for your support, understanding and love.

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

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

  Zorro: Zorro Productions, Inc.

  Chapter One

  “Holy cow! You sure know how to set the scene for a party!” Lauren O’Toole stood on the expansive dock and stared at the whitewashed smokestacks of the massive nineteenth century riverboat that were silhouetted against the night sky. The soft glow of candlelight flickered from every window on all three decks. Wall sconces on the boat’s outer walls illuminated the decks further. Even the moon had cooperated. The bright, shining orb made the artificial light superfluous except in the deep shadows.

  “No one can accuse us of not putting on the best show in town.” Sara Carter snagged two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to Lauren. Lauren grinned and accepted the glass from her best friend. “I wanted a Mississippi riverboat for this year’s Halloween party and Darrel couldn’t find one fast enough. This one was recently discovered and restored.”

  “Must be nice to have a man so head over heels for you he’d do things like this.” Lauren sipped her champagne. “Not that I’ll ever know.”

  “Oh, stop it. Just because that last creep wasn’t the catch of the century is no reason to think the world’s at an end. I promise, you are going to meet someone tonight who will rock your world. You’re going to forget all about what happened and have a wild knock-your-socks-off Halloween night!”

  Lauren gave her friend a grateful smile. “You’re right. Even if it’s just for tonight, I am going to party my brains out and have the night of my life.”

  Sara lifted her glass in a salute and gave a wide smile to a passing vampire and his vampiress. “Not exactly keeping with the theme, are they?” she muttered. “But then, it would be boring if everyone dressed the same.”

  Lauren glanced around at the crowd of costumed people waiting for the signal to board the riverboat. French maids, sexy witches and scantily clad fairy princesses along with a few yummy bare-chested pirates and other imaginatively costumed people nibbled appetizers and imbibed from the many temporary bars set up on the dock.

  “Don’t worry. It looks like you’ll have more than enough riverboat gamblers, captains and saloon girls. In fact, there are enough Kentucky colonels here to stock every fried chicken place east of the Mississippi.”

  “Don’t forget the big contest before dawn. It will be up in the casino.” Sara glanced up to the third tier of the riverboat and frowned. “They’d better get the lights on in that casino or we’re going to have some very unhappy gamblers.” She returned her attention to Lauren. “Anyway, the contest… We have some fantastic prizes for best costume, scariest costume, sexiest costume. You know the drill. It will be awesome so don’t miss it.”

  A loud horn drowned out further conversation and they drifted with the rest of the merrymakers onto the Annabel Lee, the pride of Natchez. Lauren lost sight of Sara when Zorro swooped in, threw his cape around her and whisked her away.

  That would be Darrel. Boy, Sara sure lucked out when she landed that hunk.

  Within minutes the riverboat belched a huge burst of smoke, the paddlewheels churned the murky water and they were cruising down the river.

  A large, steroid-enhanced body in a medieval executioner’s costume jostled Lauren. Her breath caught in her throat. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Skintight black leather pants and a skullcap mask that covered his head and eyes but left the lower half of his face bare comprised the costume. His naked chest gleamed with a fresh coat of oil and his full lips curved into a sardonic smile. He stared down her dress, ogling her breasts.

  “Did you forget? You invited me.” The executioner’s smile widened.

  “Invited!” Lauren fought to bring her temper under control. He wasn’t going to ruin another night. “That was before you decided to hump that sleazy waitress and before I kicked your sorry ass out. I would have thought you’d at least have the sense to stay away from my friend’s party, you lowlife.”

  “Easy, babe. You don’t want to create a scene, do you?” He leaned forward and traced his index finger across the tops of her breasts. “Just because you had a little tantrum and threw my ring at me doesn’t mean it’s over. I’m not done with you, lady. Have you forgotten? You’re mine and nobody tells me to get lost.” Grabbing her arm, he dragged her into the shadows behind a wrought iron staircase and pushed her against the white clapboard of the riverboat’s cabin. He pressed himself full against her. One hand slid down her bodice, his rough fingers kneading her breast and pinching her nipple.

  “Let me go!” She thought about screaming but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to her. She could handle Max. He wouldn’t do anything in such a public place. He was only trying to scare her and exert his male superiority…again. Squirming to put some distance between herself and the solid erection that pressed into her stomach only seemed to excite him more. With her free hand she tried to yank his disgusting paw out of her dress. How could she ever have thought she wanted to spend the rest of her life with this jerk?

  “You think you can hide from me? Ignore my calls? You think I’m gonna put up with your smart-ass attitude?”

  “Leave me alone! It’s over, Max!”

  “It’s not over, babe. It will never be over between us. I own you.”

  A long-fingered, finely boned hand clasped Max’s wrist and pulled it from her dress. “If you’ll pardon my interruption, sir, it would seem the lady is not entirely amenable to your advances. Perhaps you would care to direct your attentions elsewhere?” In one swift motion, the stranger twisted Max’s arm around his back and pulled him away from Lauren. Freed from Max’s hold, she leapt aside.

  “What the—” Max attempted to jerk his arm from the newcomer’s grip, but it must have been stronger than the slender fingers indicated. The stranger slowly pushed Max’s arm higher. His jaw clenched and the lower portion of his face turned a mottled red, visible even in the dim light from the candles. A low growl passed his lips and he went limp. “What the fuck?”

  “You’d best watch your language in front of the lady. We wouldn’t want to show any disrespect, would we? Now, why don’t you try some of the amusements inside and enjoy the party? I would most sincerely regret having to throw you overboard. You never know what dangerous species you’ll happen upon down there.” The stranger’s smooth Southern drawl and genteel words were in direct contrast to the fierce hold he had on Max. He wrenched Max’s arm higher still until Lauren thought it would snap. Max grunted and tried to pull away but was held immobile.

  “Do I have
your word as a gentleman you’ll leave the lady alone for the remainder of the evening?”

  Max’s face was a picture of sheer rage as he turned menacing eyes on her. In the dancing candlelight they gleamed pure hatred through the holes of the skullcap. Sweat rippled down his sinewy chest, which billowed with outraged anger. She shivered at the thought of how she’d once thought this man and his huge, muscle-corded body exciting. Now she felt nothing but fear, tinged with a thread of contempt.

  “I repeat, sir. Do I have your word?”

  The stranger apparently was not the least bit intimidated by Max’s size. Max shot another quick glower at her then nodded. The stranger’s hand came away. Max caught himself before he fell to the deck. He rubbed his arm and glared at her. “I’m not done with you.” Shifting his eyes to her rescuer, he lifted his chin in challenge. “Or you, either.” With a final menacing glance at them, Max whirled and was gone, lost in the crowd now milling about the main deck.

  Lauren turned slowly and, looking up, found herself captured by two of the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. They seemed to register her every movement, her every thought, while all she could do was try not to lose herself in their midnight depths. Without warning amusement crinkled at their corners, sending a shiver of anticipation through her.

  She dragged her gaze from his long enough to notice that the man before her had coal-black hair cut a little too long—or more likely it was the result of several missed appointments at the barber shop. High cheekbones and a chiseled nose over a lantern jaw that looked like it had seen more than one altercation with a wayward fist caught her notice.

  “That was a rather dramatic introduction, wasn’t it? Allow me to present myself. Ashton Claymore, former Captain, CSA, now a lowly gentleman of chance, making his living through luck and, dare I say, skill.” He swept a courtly bow, covering his heart with one hand.

  Lauren stared, disbelieving. She never would have pegged him as a bouncer if he hadn’t rescued her two minutes ago but then security guys came in all different forms these days. With that quick response to her rescue, he had to be here in some official capacity. Darrel and Sara’s parties leaned a little on the wild side so it wouldn’t be the first time Darrel had hired private security to keep an eye on things.

  He certainly played his role to the hilt. Where had Sara found such a devastatingly handsome man? His unrelenting stare had shivers racing down her spine and a need to know more about him welling inside her. Could this man be the one to rock her world tonight? He certainly had the initial qualifications—right down to the sexy Southern drawl and antebellum manners.

  If he was taking his costume’s role this seriously, she may as well too. After all, she was dressed for the part. Sara had suggested they come as saloon girls. The many layers of royal blue and black flounces on her skirt and the center slit cut to just an inch below her crotch—not to mention the low-cut striped bodice which resisted all her attempts to tug it a bit higher—pegged her as a saloon girl who made her living on her back instead of serving drinks.

  She batted her eyes, trying to play the part of a sultry nineteenth century floozy. “I’m Lauren. So you were a captain huh? What is the CSA? I’m not familiar with all that military alphabet soup.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Lauren.” He lifted her hand to his lips, but at the last second turned it over and kissed the center of her palm. The slight tickle of his tongue on her hot flesh and thoughts of where else he could use that tongue set her blood to boiling.

  He looked into her eyes without releasing her hand. “CSA? Why, I refer to the Confederate States of America. Has it been so long ago that it is forgotten?”

  Boy, he’s good at role-playing. “Um, no, I guess my mind is a bit slow after that encounter with Max. Thank you for saving me.”

  “No thanks needed, Miss, only doing what’s necessary.” He used her hand as a lever, drawing her nearer. “Now, may I fetch you a libation from the bar to help forget the incident?” The deep voice was no more than a whisper in her ear, so close she could feel the loose wisps of her hair stir with his breath. Feeling the heat of his body just a scant inch from hers, she forgot how to speak.

  “Or perhaps you would prefer something delectable from the buffet?” His smile widened. “Although the chef would need to work magic to concoct something more delectable than what is gracing the floor before me.”

  Lauren, never the shy sort, nonetheless felt a trail of heat work its way up her chest, not stopping until her cheeks burned at the outrageous compliment.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss, if I’ve embarrassed you, but you must know that when confronted with hair the color of a blazing forest fire and eyes as blue as the deepest sapphire it is impossible for a man to notice anything else.”

  Lauren opened her mouth, a glib retort on the tip of her tongue, then pressed her lips together in what she hoped was an inviting smile. This man could make the evening very interesting.

  Where most men masquerading as Southern colonels and gamblers had dressed in white suits, this man’s was mortal sin black, richly adorned with an emerald green brocade vest. A thick gold chain indicated a watch in the vest pocket. The only other adornment was a blood-red rose in the lapel buttonhole.

  His gaze settled momentarily on her cleavage, and she hoped her nipple had not crested the top of the bodice as it had done several times on the ride to the dock. His eyes widened and she knew her dress had betrayed her yet again. Somehow the urge to tug it up didn’t materialize. She rather liked that smoldering look in those devilishly charming eyes.

  “Perhaps a glass of champagne would be nice…to start.” She patted her hair, which she’d let hang free down her back, and reveled in the direction his gaze had taken.

  His eyes shot to hers. “Yes…indeed…champagne.” He glanced around and signaled to a waiter, then helped himself to a flute from the offered tray. When he gave it to her, Lauren brushed the pads of her fingers against the back of his hand. He arched an eyebrow, his fingers lingering just a moment too long before releasing his hold. “Are you here to try your luck at the gaming tables or are you one who needs the instant gratification of the, what are they called? Oh yes, the one-armed bandits?”

  “Instant gratification has its advantages.” Lauren sipped her champagne. “But then, the long, slow rhythm of a game has its appeal too.”

  This time the gambler raised both his eyebrows. “I see. Then perhaps we should try both?”

  Chapter Two

  He is simply too yummy to be true. Lauren gave him a wide smile, understanding and agreeing with his proposal. Always prepared, the little pouch snapped to her belt held a generous supply of condoms—courtesy of Sara in the hopes that an opportunity such as this presented itself.

  She raised the flute to her mouth, letting the bubbles tickle her nose before she drained the shimmering liquid. Ashton’s smoldering eyes never left hers. He reached for her glass and placed it on a nearby table. Still standing in the shadow of the stairs, Lauren slid a hand up his lapel to the rose. His chest was solid and the muscles bunched beneath her splayed palm. His quick intake of breath emboldened her to continue masquerading as the loose saloon girl. She fingered the flower. “I love roses.”

  The corners of his mouth quirked up into a sliver of a grin and he slid his fingers down the length of her arm, resting them lightly on her hand before removing the blossom. Smoothing back her hair, he tucked the rose behind her ear. “Though magnificent, the poor bloom pales when compared with your beauty.”

  Lauren’s knees quivered. He may be too good to be true, but for now he was all hers and that suited her just fine. She took a deep breath and mentally thanked Sara for railroading her into joining the party tonight. Sara and Darrel’s parties had a reputation for providing the perfect opportunity to explore new boundaries—total abandonment without repercussions or commitment. Tonight was for adventure, mystery and getting over a bad relationship. Lauren was more than ready to jump into the game and
become a player.

  “If you won’t accept my thanks for rescuing me, perhaps there is some other way I can show my appreciation?” Taking a deep breath, she edged further back into the darkness, guiding his hand to the underside of her breast. If he was any kind of a man he’d take it from there.

  In the faint glimmer of candlelight, his lips twisted into a knowing smile and his thumb pushed its way down the front of her dress. Oh, he knew what to do all right.

  “The soft bud transforms to a hard pebble with the simple touch of my finger. What will it do with the touch of my lips?” He dipped his head and ran his tongue across the top of her exposed breast while he continued to tease her nipple. In one swift motion he freed both her breasts, the loose neckline of her dress offering no resistance. He leaned back, inspecting his handiwork. “Such creamy flesh should not be hidden from an admirer’s view…or his lips.” He bent and continued to gently nibble the tops of her aching mounds.

  A rush of white lightning shot from her breast to her clit as his tongue moved lower to twirl around the sensitive tip of her nipple. She ran her fingers through his silky hair and arched back to offer up more of herself. He laved her areola, teasing and flicking his tongue close but not touching the distended bud. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her clit pulsed in anticipation of that moment.

  She opened her eyes to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Had she really lucked out and found such a skilled and sexy partner so quickly? She wanted to feel his lips, his tongue, his hands on every inch of her heated skin.

  Across the deck, near the railing, the moonlight illuminated several other couples—a Roman with his toga around his hips fucked a French maid who seemed to have misplaced most of her uniform. A court jester and a Scottish highlander took turns lapping the pussy of a fairy princess who lounged with spread thighs in a deck chair. Up and down the deck costumed figures engaged in delights or watched as others performed. Lauren couldn’t look away. The sights fed an inner fire. She wanted to feel this stranger’s hot, hard cock buried up to the hilt within her.