Cassandra fed another ticket into the slot machine and mindlessly punched the button while watching the maroon carpeted stairs leading up to the private gambling rooms. A burly guard stood watch, muscled arms crossed over a bulldog chest.

Her father had been up there so long already. She wouldn’t have even known where he was, except room service called to cancel their table at the Bengal Lounge. Apparently, he’d been unavoidably detained.

Detained all right.

It cost her a hefty tip but when she found out where he’d gone she’d stomped to the elevator and fumed all the way down to the main floor, determined to break up their little party. Only to get stopped by Marmaduke over there.

The vast space swelled with the rise and fall of hundreds of tourists hoping to cash in on a big pot and get a free vacation out of the deal. Servers wandered the room taking drink orders to keep customers happy while the extra oxygen they fed into the air system left her feeling decidedly loopy. She glanced at the serviceable watch she’d bought herself with her first paycheck. Four-fifteen. As in a.m. Didn’t these people ever sleep?

When she’d agreed to her dad and Jeff’s plan to have the wedding in Las Vegas, she’d done so with misgivings. One, she hated being away from her business, though her partner, Susan, assured her the dentist office would be fine while she enjoyed her honeymoon. And two, her husband-to-be and her father were both notorious big spenders, and she… wasn’t.

At least she’d gotten her way with having a small, informal affair instead of the big splashy performance her dad insisted on.

Something they could ill afford.

Jeff’s family had offered them a place to stay while they were here, but truthfully, she preferred her own space. Even if it was a hotel room. His parents were a lot like him; brash, loud as only Italians can be, gregarious, and fun to be around. Cassandra had grown up in a quiet household, a single child to middle-aged Canadian parents. It was Jeff’s outgoing personality and warm smile that first drew her to him.

He’d made an appointment for a cleaning, and when he walked into her dental office it was as though the sun’s rays followed him in. His charm and easygoing nature captured her heart, and since he was a dentist himself, they’d had plenty in common. They’d dated for a couple months and then moved in together over her father’s objections. He’d changed his mind though when he realized how happy she was—how in love.

The moment Jeff asked her to marry him, the two men became best friends. Cass was pretty sure they’d spent more time chatting about wedding plans than she had. Which was fine. She wasn’t a sentimental type person anyway. But it would have been nice to have some say in the arrangements.

She eyed the big brute again. Shouldn’t he need to take care of necessities soon? She needed to. Just then the lights started flashing on top her machine followed by a cacophony of noise guaranteed to draw every eye in the vicinity. A winner.

Embarrassed, her hands fell away from the machine and she rested back on her barstool. The veteran player on her left, a wizened old woman with dangly dice earrings and a flowery top, leaned over to get a look.

“Hmm, not bad. You won a nice little pot there, girly.” Her French-tipped nails clicked on the screen. “See here? Five bells. Good for you.”

Cassandra just wished the lights would turn off. She glanced around, desperately hoping to catch an attendant’s attention, and noticed one headed her way. Relieved, she turned and smiled at the senior. “Have you won before?”

The woman gave her a get real look. “Do you think I’d keep coming back if I didn’t win something once in a while?”

Well, umm. There was no good answer to that question, was there? Her smile was extra warm as the cashier stepped up and did something to the machine, silencing the racket. He took her information and gave her a token before moving on to another flashing beacon in the distance.

“You going to keep playing?” the senior asked, greedy gaze focused on her spinning screen.

Cass looked at the stairs again, relieved to see the party seemed to be finally breaking up. A man in flowing white robes with an entourage of guards was making his way down to the main floor, followed by another wearing a well-worn pair of Wranglers, an oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and a black felt cowboy hat. She wished Jeff were here. He would’ve gotten a kick out of the cultural differences between the men shaking hands at the bottom of the stairs.

Sliding off the stool, she shook her head. “No, it’s all yours.” Before she’d even fully stepped aside the old woman had forfeited her machine and climbed onto the vacated seat with the dexterity of someone half her age. “Good luck,” Cass added.

She grinned as she walked away, the senior’s gruff voice grumbling to her back. “Don’t ya know it’s bad luck to say good luck. Sheesh.”

Gamblers were notoriously superstitious. Her dad never went anywhere without his lucky rabbit’s foot, though it certainly hadn’t been lucky for the poor animal.

The guard straightened as she neared, his stony gaze sending a chill up her spine. Cass shivered and lifted her chin in defiance.

She bypassed him and turned to the other two. “Do you know my father, Rob Gardener? Is he up there?” She nodded upstairs, her stomach flipping nervously.

“Your father is good player,” the Arab said, his eyes a startling blue in his dark face. He was unbelievably attractive—and knew it. His lips quirked with humor. “You don’t approve?”

No. She most certainly did not approve.

“Leave her be, Hakeem.” The raspy tone of the cowboy made the little hairs on the back of Cassandra’s neck stand as though electrically charged. She crossed her arms over suddenly sensitive breasts. His face was grim, eyes a dark chocolate brown filled with… was that sympathy?

Oh, hell no.

“Where’s my dad?” she again demanded. Frustrated with the males in front of her, and the one upstairs, she pushed through the middle of them, frowning when her arm brushed the cowboy’s rock solid chest.

The guard, relaxed now that the game had ended, stood aside to let her pass and she snarled her thanks.

She’d just taken a step when her dad finally appeared at the top. He straightened his stooped back and rounded shoulders, and descended the stairs with aged dignity. Cassandra watched him, worried by the bleak line of his mouth and his refusal to meet her gaze.

What had he done?

Conscious of the men loitering at her back, she forced a smile and held her hand out in welcome. “Daddy. I’ve been waiting for you.”

His palm was sweaty and she worried about his pallor. Whatever he’d done, they would get over it. He was all she had left—the rest didn’t matter.

“I’m hungry. What do you say to a breakfast buffet?”

He looked over her shoulder before finally meeting her gaze, his eyes lined and weary. “Sure, honey. Whatever you want.”

“You need to tell her.” The rumble came from right behind her and Cass knew without looking that it was the tall cowboy.

She glanced at him, but his gaze was like his face—stoic, so she turned back to her dad. “Tell me what, Dad?”

He glared at the man. “Mind your own business, Shaughnessy.”

“This is my business. Mine and hers,” Shaughnessy answered.

Anxiety rose like a swarm of angry bees. She squeezed her dad’s hand, but he only dropped his gaze over his protruding belly to his shoes as if wishing for wings.

Cassandra turned on the stairway and faced the cowboy, relieved that she didn’t have to look up to meet his gaze. “Tell me what this is about,” she demanded.

“It seems I’ve won myself a fiancée for the next week.” He swept the felt hat off his head and smacked it against a muscled thigh, his other hand rubbing his scalp through thick mink-like hair that curled around his ears and neck. “You.”

Her legs wobbled and his arms snapped out to swoop her off her feet before she fell.

Held against the strong chest, Cass’s lashes fluttered and all she could think before she passed out was that her dad had just made a deal with the devil.