Silver James - Redeemed By The Cowgirl

“What does that mean?”

She clasped her hands and stared at them, unable to meet Cash’s gaze any longer. “They wanted me to get him to his room, to...” She had to swallow again.

“I get the picture.” His voice sounded gruff but she still couldn’t face him.

“The lights went out and then...”

“And then I almost caught you.”

“Yes.”

* * *

Cash almost believed her—that lonely little girl act was guaranteed to play on a man’s protective instincts. If this were a movie, he’d nominate her for an Oscar. She was one terrific actress. The blushes, the swallows, the trembling hands fisted together were all perfect touches.

“Why is your family targeting Barron properties?” He moved closer, then dropped into the chair across from her.

Roxanne’s head jerked up and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if he’d taken her by surprise. A look of consternation quickly followed the one of shock created by his question. Cash had interviewed a lot of people in his life. Instinct insisted this girl was exactly what she seemed—a sweet kid too naive for her own good. But experience persisted in believing her to be as big a con as the rest of her family.

Maximilian Rowland was a consummate thief and scoundrel who had raised his sons in his own mold. Why would such a man not utilize every tool he had—including his beautiful daughter? He shoved the parallel to his own father and brothers to the very back of his mind.

“I...didn’t know they were.” Her eyebrows pulled into an intriguing vee above the bridge of her scrunched-up nose. She looked cutely perplexed. “I suppose that rather falls in line with why I contacted you.”

Leaning back in the chair, he waited for her to continue.

“My father is a...criminal, Mr. Barron. We’ve been mostly estranged my entire life, but especially since that one incident. My brothers have contacted me periodically, checking up on me, occasionally sending money—which I sent back.” She hurried to add that bit of information and again, he almost believed her. “Anyway, the trip to Las Vegas was a complete surprise.”

She blinked at him, still portraying her innocence. “So you had no idea you’d be...” He searched for a word. “Working with them?”

“No! None at all. But...” Her voice trailed off and she wouldn’t look directly at him.

“But what?”

“I have the feeling they aren’t done with me.” She leaned forward, her expression earnest. “To be perfectly honest, Mr. Barron, I want nothing to do with them. I like my job. There are things I want to do with my life and they do not include jail time.” She inhaled deeply, huffed out the breath and plastered a serious look on her face. “I have a proposal for you.”

Cash watched, making sure there was nothing on his face for her to read. “A proposal.”

“Yes.” She nodded enthusiastically and leaned even closer.

He glanced down, just to see what she was “offering.” Nothing. Her sweater remained sedately in place. He was almost disappointed. Then her pursed lips caught his attention.

“You see, as I stated, I don’t want anything to do with them, but if you—or the police—can catch them, then I get to keep my life.”

“And keeping your life is important to you?”

She tossed him a cute expression meant to convey “duh.”

“Exactly. Look, I’m a museum curator by education. I want to work in a museum. Being the corporate archivist for RCM is interesting, but I really want to use my history degree. My father and brothers? They’ll ruin everything.”

“And your proposal?”

“Oh! I thought I’d said. I’m pretty sure they plan on dragging me into whatever their scheme is. I can pretend to play along, notify you, and you and the police can swoop in and arrest them.”

“Swoop in.”

She nodded enthusiastically again. “Exactly.”

Cash didn’t believe her, but he admitted things were getting interesting. “Tell me what you do know.”

She rambled along, either filling in blanks or making stuff up as she went. She was an imaginative little thing. He was busy texting Bridger. She had a proposition? He had the beginnings of a plan.

“Um... I still have the dress.”

“Dress?” He looked up from his phone.

“Yes, the one I told you about. The one I wore to the casino? It still had the tags when I wore it and I was told not to tear them off because my brother planned to return the dress for credit. Or he shoplifted it and just told me that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I want to send it back to the store...or at least find out if someone actually paid for it. I might keep it if Braxton did. He’s a pig.”

Somewhere along the way, Cash had lost control of the conversation, though the flurry of texts he exchanged with Bridger had been enlightening. According to their account rep at RCM, Roxanne Rowland had been hired as an archivist—basically a glorified librarian charged with cataloging and preserving ad campaign material. They were thrilled to have her, she’d been a model employee, and was there a problem?

He wasn’t quite sure when—or why—he made the decision he did, but with one final text, he put his plan into motion.

“Okay, here’s the deal. You’re moving in with me.”

Roxie’s face registered shocked denial. “What? No!”

“I don’t think you understand, sweetheart. Until this situation is resolved, we’re joined at the hip.”

“First, I am not your sweetheart.”

“Boy, ain’t that the truth.” He muttered the sentiment under his breath.

“And second, I can’t. I have work.”

“That’s been taken care of. You’re on loan to the Barron Companies.”

“Wait... I...that can’t be! I’m in the middle of a project. You...what in the world will I do for the Barron Companies?”

“The same thing you do for RCM, Red. Bottom line, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Color tinted her cheeks, and her eyes glinted like bright sun shining on a broken whiskey bottle. “Oh? Really? How does that work, precisely? Are you going to handcuff me to the toilet when you shower? Tie me to the bed?”

“That can be arranged.”

Four

Evil. He was just pure evil. Roxie’s temper flared even as a wave of unadulterated lust surged through her insides. It had nothing to do with being tied to Cash Barron’s bed and everything to do with the man himself. And she needed to murder her girlish fantasies immediately or she’d never survive this debacle intact. She chanced a look in his direction. His expression remained resolute but was that a twinkle of mischief in his eyes?

“Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. My car is in the parking lot.”

“I’ll have security drive it home for you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of driving myself.”

“You’re riding with me. We’ll go by your apartment, you can pack, then we’ll head to my place.”

“What part of no do you not understand? I have responsibilities. I—” She felt her eyes widen. “I have someone waiting at home for me.”

“Who?”

“Um... Harley.”

“Who’s that?”

Cash’s gaze narrowed, and did he sound suspicious or was it something else? Something...intriguing. Like jealousy? Ha. Roxie was just a means to an end. Jealous was not a word she would ever associate with Cash. “He’s my...roommate.” Well, technically speaking, that was true. Harley lived with her. “And I sort of have to take care of him.”

Cash leaned closer and peered at her, his gaze sharp and assessing. “What’s that mean—you have to take care of him?”

Roxie forced herself to meet his gaze despite the jitters skipping through her. “He’s...um...immature. He can’t really look after himself.”