When Cassandra came to it was to find herself entering an elevator in the arms of a stranger. She panicked and squirmed to get away, but it was like trying to escape steel bars.

“Relax before I drop you,” an amused voice murmured above her head.

She froze and stared up at a chin dark with stubble. Her gaze followed a strong-looking jaw and sharp cheekbones to chocolate brown eyes with a mesmerizing ring of gold circling the iris. Who was this man?

“Let me down. I can stand on my own,” she muttered, pushing the rock wall that was his chest.

Without warning, he let her go feet first. She stumbled against him before backing up to the smooth glass wall of the elevator.

“Where’s my dad?” How could he have let this… cowboy cart her off like one of his prize trophies?

“Heading to the bar, I would imagine,” he answered, his gaze tracking her every move. “I convinced him to give us some time to get to know one another.”

No way. Her dad may be guilty of many things, but selling his daughter to the highest bidder? She couldn’t believe it. There had to be an explanation.

The elevator doors closed, locking them in together. Cass stepped forward only to realize the buttons for the top floor were lit and the cowboy stood beside them.

“Stop the elevator on the next floor,” she snapped.

He ignored her command and leaned back against the glass, eyeing her like a bug under a microscope. The early light of morning was a blush on the horizon behind his head, the city laid out in a carpet of twinkling lights.

“Look, I’m not sure what happened between you and my father, but you can leave me out of it. I’m getting married in a couple of weeks. I don’t have time for games.”

That got his attention.

He straightened and stalked, backing her into a corner. One hand slapped palm down on the wall next to her head, pinning her in place.

“Trust me, princess, this is no game,” he said, half under his breath. His other hand lifted and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His finger lingered, and caused her breath to catch in her throat. Something elemental passed between their bodies. A bold acknowledgement of sexual attraction, raw and electrifying and oh-so-very wrong.

Cass turned her head to the side and stared at the blinking numbers for each floor they passed. Surely there had to be someone who needed a ride? His mint-fresh breath caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes against the bombardment to her senses. It only made it worse, highlighting the warmth and lean strength of the body brushing against her own.

“Please,” she begged, not sure if she was asking him to come closer or move away.

He hesitated, then his hands dropped and he went back to his previous position on the opposite wall.

Cassandra refused to admit to feeling bereft. How could this stranger affect her like this? She was engaged, for God’s sake. Her fiancé would be planning their honeymoon this week. They would be standing in a church and saying, “I do” in a few more days. This was crazy.

“Why don’t we go find my dad and sort this mess out. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation and we’ll all be laughing about it tomorrow.” Again, she eyed the buttons and considered her chance of escape.

He crossed booted feet and watched, his body deceptively relaxed. Like a cougar.

She gave up and decided to ride it out. They’d be at the top floor within a matter of seconds and this insanity would be over.

“Was your dad always a cheat?” the cowboy asked, his hat tipped over his eyes now as he stared at his toes.

Cassandra stared, shocked. Hot and cold flushes chased each other over her body and her pulse pounded in her ears. What was he talking about? Her daddy didn’t cheat. He was a fine, honorable man. Unlike this… this buffoon who didn’t know his facts from a hole in the ground.

“If you think this is funny, you have a truly sick sense of humor, Mr.—”

“It’s Matt,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers. “Matthew Shaughnessy, and I’m not joking. Your father intended to stiff me tonight. He bet more than he could afford, and now you get to cover his debt. So, if you’re going to be pissed it should be with him, not me.”

At the moment, the whole male population was on her shit list.

“How much does he owe? I have some cash saved up for my wedding.” His eyes narrowed at her words and she felt a moment’s triumph. Maybe he’d reconsider…

“Two hundred and fifty-five grand, Miss Gardener. You have that much saved?”

* * *

Matt watched the woman across from him valiantly try to control her shock and fought a moment’s remorse. It wasn’t her fault her father had a gambling habit he couldn’t afford. On the other hand, he needed a girlfriend to take home to his grandmother and she was here so… Not quite a match made in Heaven, but it would have to do.

The upward momentum of the elevator halted, leaving his stomach somewhere near his boots for a brief second. Man, he’d never been a fan of these coffins on chains, even though this one was glassed on three sides. He still itched to get out, escape the confinement. He’d been in the city too long already. It was time to go home.

The doors slid open and the girl bolted. Matt followed at a more leisurely pace. There was nowhere for her to go, they were at the penthouse. A side benefit to being a high roller. Hotels liked to keep their paying customers happy.

The short hall ended at a set of double frosted glass doors. A stunning crystal chandelier spotlighted the woman gazing at him with hunted eyes the color of the Mediterranean. The white shirt and pencil skirt, while wrinkled, suited her slender frame. Her hair fascinated him. The lights picked up shades of red and gold in the heavy thickness. It trailed between her shoulder blades in waves meant to tempt a man’s fingers. His ached to delve into their depths, squeeze just enough to make her head tip back and mouth to open…

Matt abruptly cut that train of thought. He hadn’t brought her here for sex, though if she were to show some sign—yeah, that glare said probably not.

“I’m not sure what you expected, but I am not going in there with you,” she snapped.

Matt ignored her to step past, key the door open and enter, heading for the mirrored bar across the room. His reflection bounced back at him crazily. It had been a long night, he needed a drink. He always nursed a drink while gambling, but it was non-alcoholic. He paid his server well to keep that secret. Just one more mind game to trick his opponents into thinking he wasn’t a challenge. He’d learned long ago that cards and alcohol don’t mix.

As he poured himself a stiff shot of whiskey he watched Miss Gardener—Cassandra—edge toward the elevators. He had to give her credit. She never gave up. She punched the down button and waited, arms crossed and foot tapping, for it to let her in.

“You’ll be there awhile,” he called. “I locked it.”

She swung around and stared at him, and the frightened look that passed over her face tightened his gut. He hadn’t mean to scare her. Jesus.

“Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.” He pointed to the white leather furniture in the sitting room. “Give me a chance to explain, okay?”

She tossed her head like a high spirited filly, and flounced into the room. “You have five minutes and then I’m calling the cops.” She held up a bright yellow cell phone with a happy face sticker that seemed to sneer at him.

Okay, so it was to be like speed-dating. He could work with that.

Matt took a fortifying drink, inhaling sharply as the warmth spread to his belly, and waited until she perched on the edge of a chair.

“My grandmother is dying, Miss Gardener. Stage four breast cancer.” He held up his hand when she went to speak. “It’s okay, we’re learning to accept it, but here’s the thing; she wants to see me happy before she goes.” He followed her example and sat in the opposite chair, hands cradling his drink between his legs. He swished the liquid and stared at the melting ice rather than meet her gaze. “She doesn’t approve of my lifestyle. It’s her dream to see me happily married and tied to the ranch in Texas.” He glanced up. “Preferably with a passel of kids.”

She stared at him, sympathy shining from those expressive blue eyes. Her body relaxed into the chair, hands resting in her lap and legs crossed demurely at the ankle.

He’d managed to catch her attention.

“I’m so sorry. I can imagine how you must feel, but what does that have to do with me?” Then, as though a light clicked on, her face flushed a becoming pink, her back stiffened, and she leaned forward to squeak, “Do you expect me to marry you?”