by Myla Jackson
What do a madame and a bounty hunter have in common? They want the same man.
When Rosalyn Smythe, aka Madame Rosie, steps aboard the Marie-Dearie, she hopes it’s the end of a year-long search for her runaway fiancé, Dalton Black. Her cabin holds a surprise: James McKendrick. Notorious bounty hunter, old lover…a man only too happy to help her clear the air—and her heart—of her murdering, thieving bastard fiancé once and for all.
In disguise as a riverboat gambler, Dalton is determined to find who framed him for killing two U.S. Army soldiers and who stole the gold they were carrying. He wants his life back—and his woman, who just happens to be on board and on the arm of his former best friend.
Convincing James he’s innocent is easier than winning back Rosalyn’s heart. Especially since Rosalyn seems to be enjoying their competition for her affections a little too much. There’s only one place to work out his dilemma. In bed.
As the sheets become unbearably hot, threads of evidence leading to the real killer are unraveling, leading toward one fateful card game—and one man who’s hell-bent on making sure Dalton has nothing left to lose.
Warning: This title contains hot ménage a trois scenes, bondage, and two men loving, sharing and fighting for the love of one woman with very specific bedroom desires and a a bordello full of experience to tempt any man beyond redemption.
When her lips left his, Rosalyn leaned her forehead against James’s chest. “What happened to us, James?”
“You made a choice.”
“I did, didn’t I? For this past year, I’ve asked myself over and over if I made the wrong choice.”
“Did you come up with an answer?”
She sighed. “No.”
“No, you didn’t make the wrong choice, or no answer?”
“No answer. I came up with no answers to all the questions I asked myself.” Rosalyn rested her hands against James’s chest and stared up into his gray-green eyes. “You are perfect in every way. Why didn’t I choose you?”
“Because you loved Dalton more.”
She stood in James’s embrace, unable to look away. “Right now I want to hold you, to be in your arms.” Her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt. “To feel your skin against mine. Make me feel alive again.”
He caught her fingers, and he held them away from his half-unbuttoned shirt. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I’m not anxious to get hurt again.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you. Let me make it up to you. Let me make love to you.”
“And when Dalton shows up?”
“I’ll cross that river when I get to it.”
Rosalyn looked into James’s eyes. “Don’t you want to make love to me? For old time’s sake?”
His grip tightened until the pain made her wince.
He let go and stepped away. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Rosalyn closed the distance, her hands slipping inside his shirt to run across his skin, feathering through the mat of hair covering his chest until she located the hard brown nipples, puckered and waiting for her to pluck. “Show me how much you want me.”
“I can’t make love to you, Roz.”
“Yes, you can. Pretend I’m one of the ladies at the Rose Palace. You can close your eyes if you like.” She left his body and flicked the buttons loose on her jacket, one at a time, her fingers sliding back and forth over her breasts. James liked her breasts while Dalton had craved her ass. Her lips twitched. Each man had their preference. Dalton liked it when she was on top, James liked to fuck her from the rear, like a stud mounting his mare.
Rosalyn liked making love with them any way they pleased, because they’d taken the time to please her in all the ways she craved…good and bad.
“You can tell me how you like it.” She alternated between touching him and undressing herself. “You don’t even have to take off your clothes…except…” She reached for the remaining buttons on his shirt.
James stiffened, closed his eyes and groaned. “This is a mistake, a big mistake.”