Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

“So Belle tells me,” he agreed, grinning.

“I don’t need your advice. Lord knows, I’ve had my share of women and their shenanigans.”

“All right,” James Cora said agreeably. “Here come two big spenders. They’ll not take you for more than ten dollars. Hey, Del, Dan. Come on over, boys. I’ve got a piss-ass gambler on my hands who’s lost everything but his boots.”

Del Saxton cocked a brow at Brent. “You look like shit,” he said.

“Thank you, Saxton.” He cast a blurry eye toward Del’s partner, Dan Brewer. “Sit down, don’t just stand there looking like an ass.”

“Same to you, Hammond.”

“Maggie told me I’d find you here,” Del said, sitting next to Brent. “She’s a bit worried about you.”

“Damned women. Tell her to mind her own business.”

“My, you’ve got a foul mouth tonight,” Dan said.

Brent wanted a fight, but not with Del. Lord, he was making a fool of himself. And it was all her fault. “I’m sorry, Del,” he said, drawing a tired breath. “Excuse my damned mouth. Shit, I don’t know what I’m even doing here.”

“Losing lots of money,” Del said. “By the looks of it. Look, Brent, you want to talk about it?”

Brent got unsteadily to his feet. “Nope. You might be my partner in that shipping business of yours, Saxton, but you’re not a priest. Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go find less demanding company.”

“What happened to him?” Dan asked as he watched Brent walk very slowly and very carefully between the tables to the front door of the El Dorado.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Delaney Saxton said. “Since we’re here, you want to lose your roll of dimes?”

FOURTEEN

“Celeste, just keep your hands to yourself. I’m not going anywhere, none of me.”

She gave a soft, amused laugh. Brent was sprawled in a large overstuffed chair, his legs stretched out in front of him. She unfastened the rest of the buttons on his trousers and gently closed her fingers over him again. “Such a little problem,” she said, stroking him.

“Thanks a helluva lot for the compliment.”

“My little amour doesn’t realize what pleasure is in store for him.”

“Your little amour is in the throes of a drunk. Why don’t you pour me another drink and keep your compliments to yourself?”

“I am a woman, Brent, not a miracle worker,” Celeste said. “Another drink and he would be as the dead. Now, hush.”

Brent sighed and closed his eyes.

“Ah, not so very little now,” Celeste said a short time later with satisfaction, raising her face to his. “Come, let me undress you.”

“I don’t want to move. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to have sex.”

“So stubborn. What happened, Brent? No one is gambling anymore?”

“Yeah, me. I lost a thousand dollars to Cora.”

“Very bad shape,” Celeste said, shaking her head. She regarded her handiwork and frowned. It took her a good ten minutes to get him stripped and into her bed. He cursed her, cursed the world, and fell, finally, sprawled spreadeagled.

“Now,” Celeste said, easing over him, “I’ll see to it that you stop your vile curses and moan just a little.”

Instead of moaning as he should, Brent muttered, “I’m a fool, a randy goat, with no sense at all. She’s nothing to me and soon she’ll be out of my life and my mind. Stubborn, foolish, so beautiful—”

He moaned finally when she eased him deep within her. He raised his hands to clasp her hips, and Celeste, looking down at his restless face, asked softly, even as she moved over him, “So stubborn? You mean she won’t let you bed her? Your Byrony?”