His Last Gamble (7 page)

Unless, of course, he was just waiting for a chance to get his revenge.

She looked up at him nervously, but his face was calm and alert. She looked around, seeing the place through his eyes. Yes, she could see why there was such pride of ownership in his countenance. This was his kingdom. A man who could gamble everything he owned, and win, would be king here forever.

He lead her to the roulette table. Over to her right, she heard Dee-Dee mock moan as she lost at cards.

‘What's she playing?' she asked curiously, and Payne turned his head for the briefest of moments, eyes flickering over the table. The dealer met his eye, seeming to silently ask if he wanted anything, and just as silently received the answer. No. Everything ran like clockwork, and all revolving around this man—this master of chance.

‘Pontoon. Or twenty one.' He smiled wolfishly. ‘The French pronunciation is the prettiest, of course, but basically the dealer deals two cards. The object of the game is to get as close to twenty one points as you can without going over. A face card and an ace is an immediate black jack, the ace counting
for
eleven, and the bank pays. You're friend just twisted on twelve, and got another face card, putting her over with twenty two points. Unlucky.'

Charmaine nodded. ‘Doesn't the bank always win?' she asked cynically.

Payne grinned wolfishly. ‘The odds always favour the house, of course,' he said simply, ‘otherwise there'd be no casinos. We'd all go bankrupt. But the lure is in beating the odds. Occasionally there are big winners, which only encourages the others.'

‘Has anyone ever broken the bank here?' she asked curiously, and Payne gave a cold, hard smile.

‘No,' he said simply.

No. Of course not, Charmaine thought sourly. As if anyone would dare!

‘Here were are,' he said, moving up to a table containing a roulette wheel. A woman who was not playing but only watching, quickly made way for him. The man behind the wheel, resplendent in ‘The Palace' uniform of gold waistcoat, red bow tie, crisp white shirt and black trousers, looked up anxiously at his employer, but Payne merely smiled.

His hand came to rest on the small of her back, making a long sensuous shudder travel the length of her spine.

She hoped he didn't notice.

At the same time, her breath became trapped in her throat as the heat of his casually
resting
fingertips burned through the fabric of her dress, and her nipples hardened and tightened like little tell-tales in the clinging, revealing dress.

Don't let him notice that either, she thought frantically. Oh please!

She coughed, managing to dislodge her breath, and plastered a bright, false smile onto her face. ‘So, what do I do?' she asked brightly. And looked up to find him staring down at her, his eyes dreamily caressing the curve of her breast.

‘Hmmm? Oh, with the chips you mean,' he teased, watching yet again as she blushed in mortification.

Really, he must stop doing this to her. But it was so hard to resist. He did so love the way her icy, sometimes frightening beauty, melted so charmingly into consternation.

‘Yes,' Charmaine gritted. ‘You were going to teach me to play Roulette, remember?'

This man was a monster! He knew exactly what a hold he had over women, and used it with all the skill of a surgeon wielding a knife. No wonder poor Lucy had been unable to resist him.

He was like a drug. Even now, as mad as she was with him, as humiliated and flustered, she was aware of the sharp pine tang of his aftershave. The smooth line of his jaw, freshly shaved, and the firm moulded line of his lips. She wanted so to kiss him again. To be
prepared
this time, for the devastation of his mouth on hers—to revel in it, in fact.

Yes, she had no doubt, loving this man would be an experience like no other. The surrender of mind and body to another, a giving over of the entire self to bliss.

Ah, but afterwards. When the drug was withdrawn, leaving a soul craving for more . . . No, she must never succumb. He had to pay for what he'd done so callously to Lucy, and who knew how many others.

‘The wheel is on the table,' Payne pointed out dryly, making the woman who'd moved over and several other gamblers sitting around the table, laugh softly.

Her face flamed. Damn him! She'd been staring up at him like a moonstruck calf!

She didn't realise it, but nobody was actually laughing at her. In fact, the men at the table were all looking at her appreciatively, and envying the casino owner his companion, whilst the woman who'd been usurped at the table sighed enviously. An older woman, dripping in diamonds, looked positively misty eyed, sensing young love, and perhaps remembering past loves of her own. Even the croupier was watching his boss with puzzled eyes.

But to Charmaine she felt as if she was suddenly the butt of everyone's joke.

‘What do I do?' she asked grimly, trying to smile, but wanting only to run and hide.

‘Well,
you can bet on either black or red, but it doesn't pay very well. Or you can bet on a specific number.'

‘Fourteen,' she said promptly, the date of her birthday in February.

‘Red or black?' he murmured, raising her clenched fist with one hand and kissing the back of her knuckles.

‘You've got to part with one of your chips sweetheart.' he purred ironically. ‘Not even at The Palace do we bet with nothing but thin air.'

Again a ripple of indulgent laughter came from the others and she abruptly opened her palm, allowing him to pick out a single chip. She wanted to curl her fingers back into a fist and . . .

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and she could almost believe he could read her mind.

‘Black or red,' he said again.

‘Black,' she snapped. As black as her mood!

He reached forward and placed the chip on the black fourteen square. The others had already made their bets, and with far less fuss, and the croupier spun the wheel.

All eyes turned to the spinning centre piece, as if it held the answer to all of life's mysteries.

All except her own gaze. She knew the odds of the ball falling into her own slot were almost astronomical. Instead she looked up at the man beside her. ‘Do you ever play?' she asked.

‘Yes, but not here,' he said softly. ‘There'd
be
no thrill,' he explained at her puzzled look. ‘If I lose I haven't really lost because the money returns to me. And if I win, I haven't really won, because it's my own money returning to me. No, when I gamble, I go to Monaco.'

Charmaine smiled dryly. Of course he did. What was she thinking of, even asking him?

‘And what did you win there? A yacht? A beach house?' A woman?

Payne shrugged, a small secretive smile pulling at his lips.

Yes, it was a woman, she thought. She wouldn't put it past him. She wouldn't put anything past him.

A sudden wave of congratulation rent the tense air, and she turned back, confused, towards the table.

‘You win,' Payne said, and her eyes shot to the small white ball, nestling in the black fourteen slot.

‘I won?' she echoed numbly.

The croupier, smiling, pushed across the table a small pile of chips.

‘Want to bet the whole lot on another roll?' Payne asked, but she was already gathering them up.

‘Oh no,' she said, laughing gaily. ‘That was pure beginner's luck and I know enough to quit when I'm ahead.'

‘Do you,' he said softly, something in his voice making her head rise sharply, her gaze
cannoning
into his own. ‘Do you really?' he said again.

Her lips fell open in shock as she realised she'd somehow wandered into a minefield.

‘The casino owner's worst nightmare,' Payne drawled softly. ‘A lucky gambler who knows when to quit.'

Everyone laughed except Charmaine. Her heart was beating too loud, and was seemingly lodged in her throat, preventing even a minor giggle. His eyes were drowning her. The very air seemed thick with portent. What did he mean? What was happening?

‘In that case, I'd better get what I can out of it,' Payne smiled wolfishly. ‘If you're going to run off with the house profits, I demand a thank you kiss.'

Charmaine blinked. He what?

The crowd around the table burst into laughter and applause as Payne stepped closer, looped one arm around her waist and pulled her close.

As his head bent over hers, he whispered wickedly, so that only she could hear. ‘This time, it's my turn.'

And then he was kissing her.

CHAPTER
FIVE

As she watched his head swooping low over hers, his eyes glittering with sardonic amusement at her obvious panic, Charmaine told herself that this time she would be ready for him. That this time his kiss would not totally undo her. There would be no humiliating loss of strength in her knees, no overwhelming pounding of her heart blotting out all other sounds.

This time, it would be different. It had to be. Her very sanity depended on it.

His lips touched hers and she stiffened. Vaguely, very vaguely, she was aware of the amused laughter of the other guests. She tried hard to hold onto that thought—that they were in a public place when all was said and done, and that he was only kissing her out of a sense of mischief. Surely these two facts were enough to keep her on the straight and narrow.

But it was impossible. A moment later, his tongue gently teased her lips apart, and his fingers splayed against her back, radiating a sense of desire that seeped into her spine, turning her bones to mush. All too soon, and with a dreadful sense of deja vu, she felt her body flare into life, as if it were a firework, and Payne the lighted taper.

She
tried to push against him, but he was like rock—immovable, solid, and unyielding. She might have whimpered against his marauding lips, or perhaps some hidden sense of chivalry pierced his conscience, but just when she thought she was going to lose herself completely, he lifted his head. She thought she heard him drag in a ragged, shaken breath, but knew she must have been mistaken.

A man like Payne Lacey wasn't going to find a simple kiss as devastating or as soul shattering as she did herself.

She forced her eyes open, unaware until that moment, that they must have feathered closed. When had that happened?

Payne looked down into pale blue eyes that looked shattered and yet were in themselves shattering. There were stars in her eyes, as well as anger and . . . yes, fear. Not that he could blame her for feeling so bewildered

He too felt in need of a stiff drink.

‘Well worth the loss of house profits,' he forced himself to say lightly, making their audience laugh in appreciation. Then the croupier called for the placing of bets, and instantly they were forgotten as, once more, all eyes turned to the enchanted wheel.

‘Come on, this way,' Payne said dryly, taking her elbow in a firm grip. She looked so vulnerable and in need of rescuing that he wanted nothing more than to take her far away from the hard heat and the
indefatigable
glamour that was the casino. For the first time in years, Payne felt almost ashamed of his empire.

She nearly stumbled, so unnerved was she by the sensation of warm, hard, strong fingers taking control of her. What would it be like to feel those fingers touch other parts of her. Softly, gently, caressing . . ..

No. No, no, no! She must stop this madness now, at once.

‘Where are we going?' she gulped, glancing over her shoulder, where Jo-Jo was staring after her, an amazed look on his face. Well might he look pole-axed, she thought wryly. She knew just how he felt! If her business partner had never thought to see her kissing a handsome playboy in public, how much less had she herself ever dreamed of such a possibility?

Things were going too fast.

All right, in a way she was pleased that her plan was back on track. At least Payne was showing a flattering amount of interest again. But on the other hand, she felt as if she were juggling with explosives. One fumbled drop, and boom! And she'd be the one blown to pieces, with her heart a major casualty.

And, deep down inside, she knew she just didn't have the flair for this kind of juggling.

‘I thought I'd show you the conservatory,' Payne replied softly. ‘There's an orchid I've been cultivating that I want you to see. If it's
successful
I have to find a name for it. How about Charmaine's Delight? Or Charmaine's Desire?'

His voice was low and husky now, and doing things to her skin. She could feel every pore of her body quiver at the sexy timbre of his voice.

The man positively exuded sex appeal. Deep, dark, sex appeal.

She couldn't possibly go into the conservatory with him. With the dark velvet night pressing against the glass, the twinkling diamonds of the stars above, and the heady scent of orchids wafting across the night air, she'd lose her head completely!

But how to get out of it?

It was Jinx, of all people, who came to her rescue. Perhaps she'd seen the kiss, or had merely sensed the charged atmosphere and felt obliged to reclaim her authority, but she suddenly appeared in front of them, and determinedly looped one arm through Payne's.

‘Darling, I've lost all my chips,' she pouted prettily. ‘I need some more.'

Payne smiled dryly. Wouldn't she always?

He turned just too late to stop Charmaine slipping away. He watched her go, all but bolting like a startled fawn, back into the crowd, and smiled darkly.

She could run, but she couldn't hide.

As Jinx began to wheedle and flirt shamelessly, he told himself that Charmaine
Reece
had better make the most of her reprieve.

She would not get another one.

* * *

Charmaine climbed anxiously onto the dark blue table. Unlike most other casinos, the Palace had felt and baize gaming tables in colours other than dark green—most notably navy blue, deep cream, crimson and gold.