Ante Up

Copyright 2004 Marianne LaCroix
All rights reserved.

Dodge City, Kansas, 1873

“Call,” he said with a small smile as he tossed in ten more gold pieces into the pot that had grown larger throughout the game. There were only two poker players left—Jessie and the cowboy who’d arrived earlier that afternoon. She had a bad feeling about him when he strode into the Deadline Saloon, but the gambler in her couldn’t resist the urge to pick him clean. His style was impeccable—too immaculate for one used to living out in the west, so she’d assumed he was a greenhorn trying to act tough.

Easy money. It was the first thing that had come to mind when she first took in this stranger. Her fingers itched to get a hold of his gold coins.

When he gazed at her with hooded eyes from beneath a low Stetson, she wanted more than just his money. Those soft brown eyes felt as though they stripped away her clothes and peered at her naked. Somehow, the idea of him looking upon her gave her excited shivers. Not at all unpleasant.

“I can’t match that, stranger.” Her voice was steady and commanding. She was torn. She had a great hand, one she wanted to play. The glittering pot on the table was large and could give her all the luxuries a woman could ever want. She could probably quit gambling for a living if she won. Hell, she could buy back her family’s estate from the thieving carpetbaggers who held it now. She was determined not to give up easily.

“Miss, to stay in this game, you have to match my money.” He sounded too sure of himself, and Jessie was almost positive he was bluffing. The large pile of gold coins and silver trinkets before them were too much of a temptation for either to give up. The twinkle in his eyes betrayed his poker face.

“I’m not quitting.” What could she offer him to see his cards?

Nearby, the sound of the piano softened as more of the patrons of the Deadline stopped to watch the heightened drama at the table in the back of the saloon. She could hear the clinking of glasses filled with thick beer or shots of whiskey, along with the chatter of the drunken patrons.

Nothing could deter Jessie’s attention from the handsome stranger crooking a smile at her. His full lips awakened her imagination—heated kisses along her spine and hands caressing her curves. She glanced at those hands, neatly manicured. Long, lean fingers folded his cards and placed them flat against the table.

Why hadn’t she noticed his hands before she’d started playing? Those were the hands of a professional hustler, a gambler. She should’ve noticed earlier. This stranger wasn’t a greenhorn; he was a card player by profession.

She tried to read his face, but saw nothing about the hand he now played. There was something more devious in his eyes than winning the game. Perhaps, if luck was on her side, she could offer him something besides money to stay in the game.

“Well, miss? Ready to make a decision?” That voice was like hot butter over her skin, melting and smooth. Her body reacted and she quickly came to a decision. “One night.”

“Pardon?”

“One night, stranger. I’m offering one night in my bed.”

His eyebrow rose and he pushed back the rim of his rum colored Stetson. “That’s quite an offer, Miss…?”

“Jessie. Jessie Clayton.”

“Miss Clayton, are you sure you want to bet a night?”

“The question is if you’re willing to accept my offer to see your hand?” Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him pick up his cards with those long, tanned fingers.

His eyes studied the cards then he folded them in his hand. “Miss Clayton, I accept the bet. Now, sweetheart, let’s see what you got.” She smiled and her eyes never left his face as she turned over her cards. “A straight flush.” The appearance of her cards—the queen, jack, ten, nine, and eight of hearts—made the watching crowd gasp. The hand was hard to beat and she knew it. Did this hustler think he could beat her? “Beat that, Mister…?” she asked with a cocked brow.

“Wade Hampton, but you may call me Wade, Jessie.”

Her breath caught as he answered with a devilish smile and breathed her name with a seductive tone. He lay down the cards on the table, and she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“A royal flush.”

The man was beyond arrogant. He was downright smug.

The crowd reacted around her as they exchanged money in their own bets on the outcome. But nothing touched Jessie as the flutter of her heartbeat drowned out the buzzing in her ears. How could she have lost? And how could she have bet her body?

He leaned into the table over his cards. “Ante up, Miss Clayton.”