Playing the odds (5 page)

His tongue eased between lips he parted expertly as he pressed her back against the blanket. Feeling the muscled ridges of his body against hers, Serena started to object, but her arms were already around him, pulling him closer, her mouth was already searching, moving avidly under his.

The sun filtered through the leaves of the palm they lay under, flickering light over her closed lids until it was only a red mist dancing in front of her eyes. He kissed her as she'd never been kissed before, with lips and teeth and tongue, nibbling then devouring, seducing, then possessing. Mouth clung to mouth in a taste more potent than the rum they'd sampled.

A gull soared toward the sea with a long, wailing cry neither of them heard, then with a flick of a wing he was gone as if he'd never been. When Justin ran his hands down her arms, Serena felt his touch over every inch of her body. Her breasts ached from it; her thighs trembled. Longing for the imaginary to be real, she moaned and moved under him in invitation.

Ripping his mouth from hers, Justin pressed it against her throat as he struggled to cling to the fine edge of reason. He wanted her, wanted to feel her soft skin grow hot and moist under his hands. He wanted to touch every subtle curve and dip, feel every pulse hum and taste and taste until they were both raging.

Desire clawed at him with a sharpness he'd never experienced before as her hands moved over his back, pressing and kneading while he fought to remember they were not alone in a dark, quiet room. Had a woman ever taken him so far with only a kiss? He could only think of how much further she would take him when he was free to have all of her.

Nibbling and sucking, he ran his mouth up to her ear. "Come back with me now, Serena." He licked the lobe before he caught it between his teeth. "Come back to my cabin with me. I want you."

His words seemed to float into her consciousness, almost drifting away before their meaning penetrated her passion. "No." Hearing her own weak protest, Serena fought to strengthen it. "No," she repeated, struggling away from him. Sitting up, she hugged her knees until her breathing levelled. "No," she said for a third time. "You have no right to—to—"

"To what?" Justin demanded, grabbing her face in his hands and jerking it back to him. "To want you or to show you that you want me?"

His eyes weren't cool now, but light and angry. Serena remembered her own first impression of ruthlessness and forced back a shudder before she pushed his hands away. "Don't tell me what I want," she tossed back. "If you're interested in a little shipboard fling, go find somebody else. You shouldn't have any trouble." Springing up, she strode furiously toward the sea. Justin caught her arm and spun her around.

"And don't tell me what I'm interested in," he ordered curtly. "You didn't even know where we were. I could have taken you on a public beach in broad daylight"

"Really?" She threw her head back, infuriated that he spoke no less than the truth. "Well, if you're so sure of that, why didn't you?"

"Normally, I like my privacy, but keep pushing and I'll make an exception."

"And pigs fly," she said evenly as she turned toward the surf a second time. She'd no more than gotten her toes wet when he grabbed her again. For a moment Serena thought she had miscalculated. The rage in his eyes was nothing to tamper with, but she'd never had much luck controlling her temper once it had gotten beyond a certain point. When Justin dragged her against him, she cursed him.

He wanted to crush that hot, furious mouth again. Desire was raging through him as quickly as his temper, and one fed the other. Knowing what the outcome would be if he gave in to the first, Justin gave in to the second. Serena landed on her bottom in the shallows.

Shock covered her face first, then utter fury. "You—you
animal!"
Scrambling up, she launched herself at him, intent only on revenge. But when he grabbed her arms to ward her off, he was grinning.

"Would you believe you look beautiful when you're angry?"

The dip in the water hadn't cooled her temper. "You're going to pay for that one, Justin Blade." With her arms hampered she compensated with a kick but only ended up back in the water, tangled with him. "Get your hands off me, you jerk!" She shoved, submerged, and came up sputtering. "Nobody pushes a MacGregor around and gets away with it!"

In his attempt to prevent her from drowning both of them, his hand connected with her breast. The next moment he found that his mouth had covered hers again while his hand caressed through her wet, clinging shirt. Though he felt her moan of response, she continued to straggle, taking them both under again. He tasted salt, and her lips; he felt the slender thighs pressed against his as he rolled her over with the next wave. With a muffled laugh he heard her swear at him again as she gulped in air. Then the water tossed their bodies together. The surf sprayed and ebbed, shifting the sand and shells beneath them. They lay, half covered with water, breathing hard.

"MacGregor?" he repeated suddenly, shaking his head to clear it. Drops of water from his hair splattered on her face. "Serena MacGregor?"

She pushed her own dripping hair out of her eyes and tried to think. Her body was throbbing with the potent combination of anger and desire. "Yes. And the moment I remember some of those wonderful Scottish curses, I'm going to dump them all on you."

For the first time she saw pure surprise on his face. It had the effect of draining her anger and replacing it with bewilderment. Then his eyes narrowed on an intense study of her features. Still panting, Serena stared back, only to become more confused when the smile spread slowly over his face. Dropping his forehead on hers, Justin chuckled, then roared with laughter.

The sound was appealing, but as she started to respond to it, Serena concentrated on the uncomfortable lump of sand and shell digging into her back. "What's so funny?" she demanded. "I'm soaking wet and full of gritty sand. I've little doubt that my skin's been slashed by shells and I never even finished my lunch!"

Still laughing, he lifted his head, then gave her a brotherly kiss on the nose. "Ask me again sometime. Come on, let's rinse off and eat."

Chapter Three

Serena MacGregor. Justin shook his head as he reached into the narrow closet for a shirt. It was, he decided, the first time he'd been completely confounded in years. When a man made his living by his wits, he couldn't afford to be taken by surprise often.

Strange that he hadn't noticed the family resemblance, but then, she had little in common physically with her large, broad-featured, red-haired father. She was more a modern version of the little painted miniature Daniel kept in his library. How many times had he been to that fortress in Hyannis Port over the years? Justin wondered. Rena, as the family called her, had always been away at school. For some reason he had developed a picture of a scrawny, bespectacled scholar with Daniel's flaming hair and Anna's eccentric dignity. Yes, Serena MacGregor was quite a surprise.

Odd, he thought, that she would take a job that would do little more than pay her room and board when she was reputed to have an I.Q. that rivalled her father's weight and enough capital to buy an ocean liner for her personal pleasure yacht. Then again, the MacGregors were a strange, stubborn lot, prone to the unexpected.

For a moment Justin stood, naked from the waist, his shirt hanging forgotten from his fingertips. His torso was dark and lean, the skin stretched taut over his rib cage, where on the left it was marred by a six-inch scar. He was remembering.

The first time he had met Daniel MacGregor, Justin had been twenty-five. A run of luck had given him enough money to buy out his partner in their small hotel on the Strip in Las Vegas. Justin wanted to expand and remodel. For that he needed financing. Banks were usually dubious about lending large sums of money to men who made their living with a deck of cards. In any case, Justin didn't care for bankers, with their smooth hands and dry voices. And the Indian in him had little faith in a promise made on paper. Then he heard of Daniel MacGregor.

In his own fashion, Justin checked out the stock wizard and financier. He gained a picture of a tough, eccentric Scotsman who made his own rules, and won. Justin contacted him, diddled around by phone and letter for over a month, then made his first trip to the fortress at Hyannis Port.

Daniel worked out of his home. He didn't care for office buildings where one had to depend on elevators and secretaries. He'd purchased his plot of land near the sea with the wealth he had earned first with his back, and then with his mind. Daniel had realized early that he could earn more, very satisfactorily, with his mind. Then he had built his home and his empire—to his own liking.

It was a huge barn of a house, with massive corridors and enormous rooms. Daniel didn't like to be crowded. Justin's first impression of him as he was led into the tower room that served as his office was of bulk… and wit.

"So you're Blade." Daniel drummed his fingers on the surface of a desk that had been carved from a giant California redwood.

"Yes. And you're MacGregor."

A grin creased the broad face. "That I am. Sit down, boy." Daniel noticed no change of expression at his use of the term, and folded his hands over his chest as Justin sat. He liked the way Justin moved; he'd judged men on less. "So, you want a loan."

"I'm offering an investment, Mr. MacGregor," Justin corrected him coolly. The chair was designed to swallow a man. Justin sat in it with an ease that only accentuated the readiness to spring. "With my property as collateral, of course."

"Umm-hmm." Daniel steepled his hands as he continued to study the man across from him. Not a simple man, he concluded, observing the aristocratic features. Cool, controlled, and potentially violent Comanche blood—warrior's blood—but not a brawler. Daniel came from good warrior stock himself. "Umm-hmm," he said again. "What are you worth, boy?"

An angry retort sprang to Justin's mind and was left to smoulder. Reaching down, he brought up a briefcase. "I have the financial papers, the appraisals, and so forth."

Daniel gave a gusty laugh and waved them away. "You think you'd have gotten this far if I didn't know all the figures you have in there? What about you?" he demanded. "Why should I lend my money to you?"

Justin set the briefcase back on the floor. "I pay my debts."

"Wouldn't last long in the business if you didn't."

"And I'll make you a great deal of money."

Daniel laughed again until his blue eyes watered. "I've got money, boy."

"Only a fool doesn't want more," Justin said quietly, and Daniel stopped laughing.

Leaning back in his chair, he nodded. "You're damn right" Then he grinned, slapping his wide palm on the desk. "You're damn right. How much to fix up that little hole in the wall of yours?"

"Three hundred and fifty thousand," Justin answered without blinking.

Daniel reached into his desk and drew out a bottle of Scotch and a deck of cards. "Stud poker."

They played for an hour, speaking only to bet. Justin heard the reverberating gong of a grandfather's clock from somewhere deep in the house. Once someone knocked on the door. Daniel bellowed at them, and they weren't disturbed again. The scent of Justin's cigar mixed with the aroma of whiskey and the ripe fragrance of the overblown roses on the windowsill. After dropping fifteen hundred dollars, Daniel leaned back in his chair again.

"You'll need stockholders."

"I've just gotten rid of a partner." Justin crushed out the butt of his cigar. "I don't want another."

"Stockholders, boy." Daniel pushed the cards aside. "You want to make money, you've got to spread it around first. A man who plays like you do already knows that." With his pale blue eyes on Justin's, he considered a moment. "I'll lend you the money and buy in for ten percent. You're smart, you keep sixty and spread the rest around." After swirling the Scotch, he drained his glass and grinned. "You're going to be rich."

"I know."

Daniel's gusty laugh shook the windowpane. "Stay for dinner," he said, heaving himself out of his chair.

Justin stayed for dinner, and became rich. He renamed his hotel Comanche, then made it into one of the finest hotel-casinos in Vegas. He bought a dying property in Tahoe and repeated his success. Within a decade he had five thriving gambling hotels and interests in a variety of enterprises throughout the country and Europe. In the ten years since their meeting in the tower room, Justin had been to the MacGregor home dozens of times, entertained Daniel and Anna in his own hotels, and fished with their sons. But he'd never met the daughter.

"Bright girl," Daniel would say of her from time to time. "But won't settle down. Needs a good man—you should meet her."

And Justin had steered clear of the not so subtle matchmaking attempts. Or so he'd thought.

"The old devil," he murmured, shrugging into the shirt.

It had been Daniel who had pushed him into the cruise. Get away from the pressure, he'd insisted. Nothing like good sea air and half-naked women to relax a man. Because he'd been restless, Justin had considered it, then had been trapped when Daniel had mailed him the tickets with a request for a case of duty-free Scotch.

So the old pirate was still wheeling and dealing, Justin thought, amused. Daniel would have known that Justin would spend time in the casino on board, and left the rest to chance. With a quick laugh Justin began doing up the buttons of his shirt. Chance, he reflected, with a stacked deck. What would the old man have to say if he knew his friend and business associate had been wrestling with his daughter that afternoon with the predominant notion of getting her into his bed? Exasperated, Justin ran a hand through his hair. Daniel MacGregor's daughter. Good God.

Justin grabbed his jacket from the closet, then closed it with a bang. It would serve the cagey devil right if he had seduced his daughter. It would serve him right if he avoided her for the rest of the trip and never uttered a word about meeting her in the first place. That would drive the Scotsman up the wall. Justin caught his own reflection in the mirror, a dark lean man in black and white.