High-Stakes Loving [King's Bluff, Wyoming 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read online

  King’s Bluff, Wyoming 2

  High-Stakes Loving

  Former SEALs Quinn Sullivan and Mike Langley have discovered King’s Bluff, Wyoming, a town that embraces ménage and BDSM lifestyles. Even better, they've found a sweet woman they could love—if they could only gain the shy librarian’s trust. Overhearing that she adores erotic romance stories featuring alpha heroes, the two Doms know exactly how to get her attention.

  Trapped between two experienced Masters, Reagan surrenders. They’re commanding and determined, yet gentle, and everything she's ever wanted. Even as she learns what it is to be cherished, a secret from the past emerges, threatening her reputation. She hires her lovers to investigate, expecting them to be on her side. But the damning evidence they uncover rocks their relationship.

  As pressure for the truth mounts, danger stalks Reagan. Someone out there believes secrets are best left buried. Long held misconceptions and fears stand in their way, risking their futures and allowing the threat closer. The three must fight as one for their love to survive.

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

  Length: 101,380 words

  HIGH-STAKES LOVING

  King’s Bluff, Wyoming 2

  Fiona Archer

  MENAGE AMOUR

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

  HIGH-STAKES LOVING

  Copyright © 2014 by Fiona Archer

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-117-2

  First E-book Publication: January 2014

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of High-Stakes Loving by Fiona Archer from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Fiona Archer’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Archer’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  To Alison, whose capacity to love and faith in the goodness of people is inspiring.

  A special acknowledgment is due to the following people:

  To Kenna Naurenburg for her awesome suggestion for the name of the King’s Bluff erotic romance book club.

  To my fabulous beta readers, Liz Berry and Riane Holt, who kept me on track. Are your toes bruised from all that kicking?

  To Sophie Oak and her family, who opened up their home to me and made me feel like one of them during my Dallas visit. Neiman Marcus now holds a special place in my heart because of you, Sophie.

  To Chloe Vale, my Comma Queen, who goes beyond the call of duty and is an amazing friend.

  To Cherise Sinclair, my crit partner and dear friend, who understands brainstorming is both a joy and torture. Why should reality and continuity get in the way of a great idea?

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  HIGH-STAKES LOVING

  King’s Bluff, Wyoming 2

  FIONA ARCHER

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Reagan fisted her hands against the library’s front counter and ground her back teeth together. Karl Wagner, with his absurdly ornate silver buckle straining to hold up his jeans, moved closer to the community notice board.

  Be professional. She forced a civil tone in her voice. “What are you putting up on the wall?”

  The pudgy softness of Wagner’s face stretched in a leering smile. His gaze slithered over her, starting at the top of her head, moving down to her breasts, and staying there.

  A shiver raced across Reagan’s shoulders, as if a thousand centipedes were stampeding over her skin. Do not cross your arms. Damned if she’d give in to this bully.

  Wagner stood before the felt-covered board next to the front entrance. Glossy sheets of paper dangled from his hand. “I’m spreading the word. You’re looking at King’s Bluff’s next town councillor.” He tacked a sheet right over the notice for the Youth Café’s opening hours, despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

  “You’ve been nominated?” Horror clouded her words.

  Forty years living a life obsessed with getting what he seemingly believed he deserved had lent a hungry meanness to Wagner’s eyes. “Leonard Aitken retires in six weeks. Nominations close in two days. Nobody else is standing.” The sun streaming through the window behind him backlit the thin threads of his brown hair, starched rigid from styling product.

  Stepping forward, he slapped another glossy sheet between Reagan’s hands on the counter. “My election brochure.” He shrugged. “That’s if there is an election. Makes for good reading. Especially”—his blunt finger tapped on the sheet—“right here.”

  She glanced down and followed his finger to a bullet point halfway down on the left. Redistribute existing funding for town library toward other worthie
r services.

  Her stomach pitched and dipped like a dinghy battling in rough seas. A fine sweat broke out between her shoulders.

  He wanted to close the library. Permanently.

  Bastard.

  She jerked her gaze back up to his. “No!”

  “Yes, Miss Edwards.” His flat laugh was a virtual slap in the face. “And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me. Once I’m elected, I’ll get the numbers on the council required to pass the vote. Everyone’s pulling in their belt. You can’t expect people to pay for a room full of books when they can’t afford health care or to heat their house in winter.”

  As the mean-spirited scion of one of King’s Bluff’s oldest families, he’d know all about scraping by.

  Fucking bastard.

  A list of arguments rushed out of her mouth. “We keep our costs low. There is only one employee—me. The rest are volunteers. The building was donated back in the fifties. The books are all paid for and properly maintained.” She shook her head. How could he be serious? “Most of our new stock is purchased through donations and fundraisers, not from town funding. Facts you well know.”

  Wagner shrugged. “Sacrifices need to be made for the good of everyone.” His bored gaze swept the main room. “Once cleared out, this will make a decent storage facility.”

  Her stomach knotted from the brutal verbal punch. The man’s ignorance was breathtaking.

  “I won’t let you win, Wagner.” She banged her fist on the counter. Pain fired along her knuckles, but she kept going. “Nothing and nobody will take this library from the people of King’s Bluff.”

  From me.

  She thrust her shoulders back. “We were looking for a new spring project to fire up everyone’s interest.” With a sweep of her hand, she screwed up Wagner’s brochure and lobbed it into the trash bin under the notice board. It sailed in without touching the edges. “Problem solved.”

  Never mind her legs were shaking. Thank God he can’t see behind the counter.

  Wagner’s gaze hardened, but he kept his voice deceptively soft. “You think I’m afraid of you, the abandoned pup of a whore?”

  She flinched. Nausea scalded her throat. “You utter bas—”

  “What did you say, Karl?” Phyllis Garner came up to stand beside her. The longtime volunteer’s harsh tone matched the coldness of her stare.

  Wagner stepped back. “Nothing, Phyllis.” He glanced at Reagan before nodding toward the shelves of books to her left. “Six weeks, Reagan. Start packing.” He turned and walked with a deliberate slowness out of the building.

  Silence filled the library. She clenched her fists tight, her fingernails gouging the palms of her hands. Her mother’s history, in part, proved Wagner right. She and her dad had been abandoned by her mother not long after her twelfth birthday. No time to write a note, Mom?

  As to Julie Edwards being a whore…a chronic flirt definitely, but a whore? She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. The child in her couldn’t get past the desertion or witnessing the heartbreak of a man who never stopped loving his wife. Right up to his last breath, fourteen months ago. “She loved you, kiddo. Never doubt it.” His hand, thin and dry from a long battle with cancer, but his grip strong with a father’s love, held onto hers. “I don’t want to leave you” A ragged gasp. Then another. Seconds passing as his eyes slowly closed. “I’ll smile on you, honey. Always.”

  Reagan shut her eyes and sucked in a breath against the emptiness in her heart. Oh, Dad, I need your smile right now.

  A hand touched her shoulder. “Reagan?”

  She snapped her eyes open.

  Phyllis gave a comforting rub. “He’s a dickhead, hon. There’s no other word for it.”

  Laughter from behind made her gasp. The elderly Hammond twins were getting up from the reading table. Their glossy periodicals lay abandoned as they hurried over.

  Reagan said, “Ladies, I’m sorry for—”

  “Sorry? For what? Karl Wagner is a dickhead,” Matilda Hammond stated with the calm certainty of a woman in the prime of her seventies…or was it eighties? You couldn’t tell from their never-say-die attitude and the chemically enhanced blondeness of their pixie haircuts.

  Adelaide Hammond nodded vigorously, sending her glass-beaded earrings into a dancing frenzy. “A smorgasbord of dickness.”

  Reagan could only stare.

  Matilda chortled. “Oh, sweetie, we’ve each outlived two husbands. You think we haven’t heard a cuss word before now?”

  “Well, I, uh.” She gave up and shrugged.

  Adelaide humphed and then rested her folded arms on the side counter. “Sometimes cussing’s the only thing standing between you and grabbing a shotgun. You let fly away whenever the need gets too great.”

  “She’ll get right on that. In the meantime, ladies, we have a library to save.” Phyllis stood with hands on hips, her blonde page-boy hairstyle swishing as she turned to cast everyone in her gaze. “Seems to me there’s only one alternative.”

  “Let’s hear it.” Matilda leaned against the counter.

  Oh, boy, she had a bad feeling about this. “Whatever it is, maybe you and I should discuss this—”

  “We nominate Reagan to go up against Wagner.”

  Matilda smacked her hand on the counter. “You betcha!”

  “Fantastic.” Adelaide’s earrings bobbed once more.

  “No. Not fantastic. Bad. Very bad.” Were they crazy? “I can’t do this. I’m…” She had reasons, plenty of them. “I’m too shy. We need someone who’s ready to go for the jugular.”

  Phyllis pursed her lips. “Well, you’re going to be a shy, unemployed librarian if you don’t pull up your big girl panties and speak out.” She glanced at the twins and winked. Why were they laughing? “You’re forgetting the way you just challenged Wagner. Trust me, honey, your jugular antenna is on track.”

  Heck, she had defied the brute. Up close and personal. But garnering support to make sure he couldn’t shut down the library was vastly different from running for office. She caught her breath. Or was it?

  Matilda walked around the side counter to stand before her. She clasped Reagan’s hands, drawing them up to her own chest. Her blue eyes, surrounded by lines testifying to a lifetime of experiences, stared right back at her in challenge. “Look around you, Reagan. Think of the decades of toil and hopes that have been poured into this building, of what it means to so many people in this town.” She squeezed Reagan’s hands before releasing her grip. “Think of what it means to you.”

  Her gaze drifted over the main room. Children’s drawings of Gulliver’s Travels, proud offerings from last month’s Classic Tales Coloring Competition, covered the large corkboard behind the “King’s Kids” section. The dark-stained wooden bookshelves in the nonfiction area, handcrafted by the local Rotary Club in the sixties. How many times had she dusted them, thinking of the men who’d given up their weekends to saw, hammer, and polish? The photos hanging along the warm sandy-colored walls of working bees and donation ceremonies. But where was…yes, there! Way in the back corner, almost hidden by rows of shelves, sat “Old Lumpy.” Teenage girls possessed an abundant capacity for cruelty. A shy nerd was easy prey. The brocade-covered wingback chair, a cast-off from someone’s living room, had provided a refuge, nursing her in its uneven padding. How many hours had she spent reading in that chair?

  She turned and gazed out past the bars covering the front windows. Purple and yellow viola sprung up from the window boxes and faced the bright spring sunshine. The local high school kids had crafted those containers. Outside of school hours.

  Her jaw tightened. Dammit, this library wasn’t Karl Wagner’s to close. It wasn’t just hers to keep open. It belonged to this town—this wonderful town she both loved for its generosity of spirit and secretly cursed for, at least in her mind, tainting her with the sins of her parent.

  Which begged the question, how brave was she? Wagner was certain to dredge up her family’s history. But it wasn’t like
she’d never heard the barbed comments before from a small number of citizens. Her mother’s leaving was no secret. In fact, for the most part, any attack on that front would be pointless. He couldn’t hold a twelve-year-old responsible for the actions of her mother.

  A cold shower of resignation drenched her.

  Shoot. There went her last excuse.

  God, help her, but those big girl panties were already giving her a wedgie.

  Turning back to face three of her most loyal volunteers, she couldn’t help but smile at the expectation lighting up their faces. “So, which one of you misfits is going to officially nominate me?”

  One frantic hour later, after a visit to the town hall, Reagan was duly nominated and seconded as a candidate in the now election for the upcoming vacant seat of town councillor.

  The three women had returned to the library, Adelaide having volunteered to stay behind and man the desk while Reagan and her gang got the political stuff sorted, and shared a celebratory round of take-out root beer floats from Penny’s Diner. The diner’s namesake, Penny Gordon, promised to be along later that afternoon for a debrief and planning session. Which meant that ten minutes after Penny exited the library, the epic tale behind Reagan’s nomination would start to filter around town. Don’t kid yourself. It started the minute she left the town hall.

  That left two quick cell phone messages to her friends, Chloe King and Purdy Daniels. She imagined some serious girl time once those two got wind of her plans.

  “Reagan?”

  Reagan snapped her gaze to the left. Phyllis stood next to a cart laden with books ready for restacking on the shelves.