TroubleinChaps by Ciana Stone Page A

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 that 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