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hand had slipped,
     or maybe they didn’t find it unusual, but Lottie felt the steam come out of her ears.
    She took a deep breath and forced a smile on her lips. “You have to be the most infuriating man I have ever met.”
    He chuckled. “Thank you, darlin’. I always strive to be the best at what ever I do.”
    She stood with the glass of whiskey in her hand, waiting for the perfect moment. Not too soon, so that he would miss the anticipation,
     but not so late that he wouldhave the opportunity to escape. She saw it as soon as it flickered in his eyes.
    “Don’t you dare—”
    “Too late,” she interrupted, dumping the whiskey on his head, leaving the glass sitting upside down on top like a little sparkling
     hat. She hurried from the room to the cheers and laughter of the men who had witnessed the baptism of Mr. Dyer Straights,
     thinking it fitting that a man of his ilk should be christened with whiskey instead of holy water.
    She didn’t slow down until she stood just outside the door to the cabin she shared with three of the other working girls.
     It was still too warm to go inside, but she was close enough to dart in and lock the door should Dyer come looking for her.
    Lottie stared out into the night, listened to the peeping of the tree frogs and wondered if she’d gone too far this time.
     Her father had always said her temper would get her into trouble someday, and maybe this was the day. What had she been thinking?
    A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention as a man walked slowly toward her out of the darkness. She started
     to slip into her cabin but stopped when he softly applauded.
    “Well done, madam,” he said, continuing to walk until he stood close enough for her to see him clearly. “Dyer has had that
     coming for some time now.”
    He took off his hat and bowed deeply at the waist. “I’m Newt Crawford.” He straightened and chuckled. “I just had to meet
     the lady who left Dyer at a loss for words.”
    “Miss Lottie Mace.” She glanced over at the handsome gambler who seemed tickled to death with her antics.She only wished she felt the same. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”
    “Nonsense. I’m glad Dyer found a lady like you to keep him in line.”
    “Oh, I’m not Mr. Straights’s lady,” she corrected. “We only just met a couple of days ago.”
    “Really?” Newt’s eyes twinkled even in the darkness, and the subtle wrinkles at the corners proved they were no strangers
     to smiling. The gray at the temples of his dark hair gave him a distinguished look that went well with his expensive suit
     and the sparkling diamond stickpin in his cravat.
    “How do you know him?” she asked.
    “I met him when he first came to the riverboats to gamble. He came aboard the
Robert E. Lee
with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove.”
    “Did he win?” she asked.
    Newt chuckled. “No, he lost miserably, and I probably should have let him leave, but I felt sorry for him, I guess. So I gave
     him some lessons.”
    “You taught Dyer to play poker?” It hadn’t dawned on her until that moment that someone had taught Dyer the game. She had
     just assumed he was born with the knowledge or found it in the bottom of a bottle . . . of one kind or another.
    “Let’s just say, I improved his game a tad,” Newt said.
    “I’ve tried to get him to teach me, but he absolutely refuses. He doesn’t think a woman should play poker.” She frowned. “At
     least that’s what he says, but I get the feeling there’s more to it than that.”
    Newt shrugged. “With Dyer, there’s always more to it than that.”
    “If you taught him to play, maybe you could teach me?”
    “Why do you want to learn?”
    She had no intention of telling Newt or anyone else about the blackmailer. If she did, they would want to know why she was
     being blackmailed, and that was a secret she had to take to her grave. “I need money, just like everyone else.” She gave Newt
     a look