High-Stakes Passion Read Online Free Page B

the youngest hands, Pete, had scrambled for the seat next to her. He leaned close and threw his arm across the back of her chair, caressing her shoulder. Knowing of his nomadic lifestyle, she tried to chalk it up to loneliness, and ignore him. But every time he touched her, she felt a strong urge to bathe.
    â€œMa’am, these chops are great!” Jim called from the other end of the table. “After working with cows all day, it’s nice to not have to eat one.” He stuffed a bite into his mouth.
    Audrey stopped chewing momentarily as certain images came to mind. She would definitely lose some weight if there wasn’t a change of subject.
    â€œThey’re the best pork chops I’ve ever tasted,” Dalt agreed with his guaranteed-to-melt-hearts smile.
    She smiled back. “Thank you. There’s a secret ingredient.”
    â€œMark loves pork chops,” John muttered from his seat across the table.
    Mark was absent from the meal again, and she worried he wasn’t eating. Why on earth did she care, anyway? But John had given her the opening she’d been waiting for.
    â€œMr. Malone seems to have changed a great deal since the accident,” she fished.
    John frowned and gave his full attention to his plate.
    Audrey wouldn’t let it go this time. She needed information. “Was his right leg the only injury? What’s he going to do after he sells the ranch?”
    John glanced up sharply, scowling.
    Maybe she should act worried for his health. Act? “It’sjust that he doesn’t seem to eat. I wondered if I should take some dinner in to him.”
    As if they’d rehearsed it, several guys erupted into laughter at the same time.
    Jim, still snickering, said, “Not unless your secret ingredient is whiskey!”
    More laughter followed, but Audrey frowned with disapproval. “I don’t see what’s so funny about a man drinking himself into oblivion every night. You should be encouraging him to join AA or something.”
    That sobered them up a little, so to speak. Jim finally answered. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Audrey, but Mark’s a grown man and ain’t nobody gonna tell him what to do. Besides,” he continued with a grin, “I win too much money off him to wanna change things.”
    Ruth must’ve caught Audrey’s confused expression. “Some of us play poker at night,” she explained. “Guess with your room upstairs, you haven’t heard anything.”
    So that explained the mess in the dining room. Poker! She didn’t know what else to say, so she mumbled something about being a sound sleeper and started clearing dishes off the table.
    Looking slightly guilty, the men and Ruth thanked her for the meal and shuffled out.
    As she loaded the dishwasher, a horrifying thought struck her. It would make a sensational story, but if she couldn’t stand to see Mark become a laughingstock to his own hired hands, how could she bring herself to write an exposé and tell the whole world about his problems?
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    Arms loaded with a tray containing pork chops, potatoes, broccoli and a slice of apple pie, Audrey knocked on the master bedroom door.
    No answer.
    She knocked again, louder.
    A deep, slurred voice grumbled, “Go away!”
    She rapped again and shouted through the door, “I’ve brought you some dinner.”
    Silence.
    She took a deep breath for courage and shoved the door open with her shoulder.
    The only light came from a metal gooseneck lamp on a small plastic table by the bed. The rest of the room was shrouded in shadow. The hand-carved pine bed and an old-fashioned armoire against one wall was the only other furniture. Empty beer bottles and dirty tumblers littered the table, and clothes were strewn on the floor. How could anyone live like this?
    Mark was sitting on the side of the king-size bed, wearing only a pair of white briefs, his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his