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
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
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