Raising the Stakes: Three of a Kind, Book 2

Dedication

With special thanks to Mari Carr. If you hadn’t kicked my butt, I’d never have written this book.

Viv Arend—how did I ever write before I met you? (BTW, Megan is a better woman because of you.)

And then there’s Jennifer Miller… you’re not just my editor, you’re my hero.

Chapter One

Desmond Reed dumped his cards facedown on the table in front of him. He wished he were anywhere but here, with anyone but them. The five people seated around the table didn’t worry him. It was the empty chair opposite that scraped at his soul, ripping out parts of his already frayed heart.

At the front door Alex Truman pulled Megan Loxley in close and kissed her until her eyelids fluttered shut and a tiny groan escaped her. Alex’s muscled bulk eclipsed Meg’s slim frame, but his size could not hide the heated response of her kiss or the way she leaned into him, molding her body to his, clutching his arms and kissing him right back. The flashes of her pink tongue sliding into Alex’s mouth nearly undid Des.

Damn it, he should turn and stare out the window at the Sydney skyline, but he couldn’t look away.

He swallowed hard against the desire and jealousy that fueled his blood. He refused, point-blank, to give in to his hunger. His dick could turn blue and fall off for all he cared. He was not going to utter one word to Meg on the matter. He wouldn’t comment to Alex either. It had been his choice to stand on the sidelines and feed the unforeseen fire that had flared between the two of them. Too late now to cry like a baby and yank back his approval.

Still, the sight of the two of them together tied him up in knots. It made him wish to God he was the one in Meg’s arms, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—do a damn thing about it. His envy did not give him the right to act like a complete prick.

Even so, ill-placed resentment stirred in Des’s chest, and common sense didn’t stop his fingers from tightening into fists beneath the table.

It should have been him. His lips should have been touching hers. Not Alex’s. She should be in his arms now, moaning softly into his mouth. Why had he woken up so late? What was his bloody problem? Why’d it have to take Meg’s falling for his poker buddy to make Des see the light?

Megan should have been his. He should have gotten down on one knee and proposed years ago.

Couldn’t ever do things the simple way, could he? Nope. He’d had to let his twenties pass him by and hit the ripe old age of thirty before realizing the future he wanted—Meg, and all the beautiful babies they could make together—was no longer an option. Meg was in the process of creating an alternative future. One that excluded him.

Why couldn’t he realize he was in love with the woman
before
introducing her to a buddy?

Not that the introduction had been intentional. He’d brought Meg along to a party Hunter Miles, another member of the poker school, had thrown. Des had seen the stars in Meg’s eyes the second he’d introduced her to his architect friend, Alex. He’d seen the smile that grew in size with every word Alex spoke. He’d stood back and watched as his best friend, the beautiful primary school teacher, gazed deeper and deeper into the other man’s eyes, falling harder with each passing minute. By the time the party was done, Meg was a woman in love.

He watched now as she pulled away from Alex and gifted him with one of her special smiles. Her Meg-a-watt smile, as Des thought of it. The kind that melted a man’s heart while igniting his lust. Des’s arousal lit up just observing. No doubt Alex was ready to haul her over his shoulder and carry her, caveman-style, to his bedroom and fuck her senseless.

A silent growl prickled Des’s throat.

The woman was more in love with Alex now than she had been the night they’d met, and from the dazed look on Alex’s face, he no doubt reciprocated the feeling.

Des had to give the man credit for stretching an arm around her waist and steering her towards the dining room-cum-poker table instead of the bedroom. He wouldn’t have had the strength of mind.

Group hellos were thrown in Meg’s direction: cheery, slightly drunken greetings that had her laughing out loud.

Until her gaze met his. Her expression changed then, from a happy, carefree grin, to a look of sheer delight. A look a woman would flash her long-lost brother or a best friend she hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Des!” She was at his side in seconds, leaning in to hug him.

“Meggy.” He accepted her hug and kissed her cheek, trying hard not to imbibe her sweet scent. Impossible. She smelled like flowers in springtime, and he breathed deeply, inhaling as much of Meg as he could get into his lungs. Problem was, he smelled Alex on her too, got a whiff of his expensive cologne and immediately wanted to smack the guy.

Des had never been prone to violence. Freaky what an unhealthy dollop of jealousy did to him.

“Where have you been, stranger?” she asked.

He stumbled before answering. Christ, there was so much he wanted to tell her, say to her. So much had happened over the weeks they needed to catch up on. Nothing important. Just everyday stuff he usually shared with her on the phone or over home delivery at her place.

Since he hadn’t had the heart to call her in over two weeks, let alone knock on her door, it wasn’t any wonder Meg called him a stranger.

“I’ve been busy. You know, working.” Yeah, the response was vague, but what options did he have? Meg was too easy to talk to, to confide in. If he opened his mouth now, he’d probably blurt out the fact that he loved her madly and was losing his mind to jealousy. Or maybe he’d admit that she’d become the lead lady in every sexual fantasy he’d ever had.

Ah, now, that would be a classic blooper to make in front of the entire fucking poker school.

Meg stiffened and pulled away. “Pardon?” She frowned at him, her green eyes clouding over with hurt and confusion. “Too busy to phone me?”

Yeah, right. As if a lame-o excuse like that one would ever have worked on her. He’d
never
been too busy to phone. Not even at work, at his mobile phone shop, over the busiest shopping periods. He’d never not had time to see her. If Meg called, Des dropped everything to answer—with profuse apologies to customers or employees he might be dealing with at the time. If circumstances made it impossible to talk, he’d always return her call within the hour. Work had
never
interfered with their friendship, and they both knew it.

He was a shit for trying to pull one over on her. An asshole for rebuffing her. Still, he couldn’t back down now. “We’re getting the books in order for the accounta…”

His voice trailed off as she raised an eyebrow. What the fuck was he trying to do? Dig himself in deeper?

“Yeah, Des. Whatever.” She shook her hair, letting her long brown curls cover the left side of her face, the side closest to Des. A wall went up around her, closing Des out, a barrier the likes of which she’d never used against him.

The snub shocked him. Left him whirling. Instinctively, he reached out to grab her hand and pull her back to him, but she moved her arm out of the way, and his hand rebounded off her defenses.

Served him bloody well right.

A muscle twitched in her cheek. “Sorry, folks,” Meg said cheerfully. “Didn’t mean to disturb your game. You carry on playing. I’ll get you a round of drinks.”

Was he the only one who saw straight through her forced smile? Or was it the flash of humiliation he caught in her eyes when she fleetingly met his gaze before dropping her eyelids and shutting him out that gave her away?

Christ, he was an imbecilic jerk. He’d hurt his best friend.

“Hey, Meg,” Jay called out, “you don’t wanna play a hand or two?”

She laughed, the pitch too high to be sincere. “I’d lose all my money in a minute, but thanks for the offer. Scotch for you and Hunter, beer for everyone else?”

“Coke Zero for me, please.” Julia, the only woman player in the poker school, spoke up. She pointed at her chest. “Designated driver tonight.” Julia sat between Jay and Hunter, a sinfully sexual expression on her face. Both Jay’s and Hunter’s expressions mirrored hers. The three of them were officially together. A threesome. The terrible triplets, as the poker school had taken to calling them.

“You got it.” Meg headed to the kitchen, obviously at home in Alex’s house. Her comfort in a place that was not hers only increased Des’s irritation.

Alex caught her arm. “Need a hand, babe?”

“I’m good, but thanks.” She planted a lingering kiss on his mouth and vanished through the door, leaving Des seething with jealousy and cursing himself for his sloppy treatment of her.

Was everyone in the poker school falling in love? Hunter, Jules and Jay. Alex and Meg. Max and Trev never discussed their personal lives, so Des had no idea about their circumstances, but one by one, everyone else seemed to have caught the bug. He’d caught the bug too. He’d just missed out on the woman.

Meg’s appearance left him hot and bothered. He wanted her with a fierceness that ate him alive. It stripped his defenses and parched his throat. Christ, he wanted her so bad he, the world’s staunchest pacifist, was willing to kill for her. Too bad Alex would be the one he’d have to choke to death in the process. Alex was a decent guy. Not to mention a good head taller than him.

“Yo, Reedy, you gonna call or you gonna lay down your cards like everyone else?” Alex’s voice drew Des’s attention back to the game. He bit back an instinctive “fuck you”. It wasn’t Alex’s fault Meg had fallen for him. It was Des’s. He’d all but pushed her into Alex’s arms.

He tried not to glare at the stack of chips on the table. Max, Trev and the triplets had folded. The chips were all Alex’s. So, not only did his nemesis get the girl, seemed this hand he got the cards as well.

Des looked at his pocket nines. Average cards. Not a guaranteed win, but good enough to bet on. He shoved a pile of chips into the middle of the table and flashed a challenging smile at Alex. Christ, he hoped he didn’t look as evil as he felt. “I’ll see your bet.”

Frankly, he didn’t care if he won or lost. The only thing he cared about was in the kitchen, pretending she hadn’t just been hurt and insulted by her best friend.

Alex grinned at him, the humor glinting in his dark eyes. “Game on.”

Why did the guy have to be so fucking nice? Why couldn’t he just act like a dickhead and give Des the excuse he needed to bash the shit out of him?

Des lost the hand, and along with it a shitload of money. Poetic justice? Served him right for his ominous thoughts.

“Good play,” he conceded, just as a piercing crash sounded from the kitchen.

Alex was out of his chair before the noise died down, but Des was faster.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said to Alex. “I’ll go.” He owed Meg an apology. What better way than to clean up her mess while apologizing for his own?

Alex hesitated. His gaze darted to the kitchen.

Possessive much?

“You sure ’bout that?” Alex asked.

“Absolutely.” Meg may be Alex’s girlfriend, but she was Des’s best friend. Of that he was damn sure. “Don’t wait for me. Go ahead and play the next few hands.” Des walked into the kitchen.

Meg was crouched on the floor of the modern, white kitchen, holding her left hand in her right and sucking her index finger. Hundreds of tiny pieces of glass littered the ground.

Des dropped down beside her. “You okay, Meggy?”

She eyed him irritably before pulling the finger out of her mouth. “Fine. I dropped a glass is all. Cut my finger in the process.”

A drop of red dotted the tip of her finger. Des grabbed a piece of paper towel, tore a strip off, wet it and wrapped it around the cut. He cradled her hand in his, refusing to let go when she tried to pull her arm away. The silk of her flesh burned through his skin, and he gritted his teeth against the exquisite agony.

“You’re an asshole.” Meg didn’t pull any punches. She never had.

“I know.”

“How dare you brush me off like that?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t know how. Instead he removed the tissue and inspected her finger. Still bleeding. “Is it sore?”

She glared at him. “Yes.”

He wrapped the wound again, holding the tissue around her finger. “I’m sorry.”

Her mouth tightened. “It’s not your fault the glass broke.”

His heart squeezed in his chest. When had he ever felt this awkward around her? “I’m not sorry about the glass.” Given the blood staining the tissue paper pink, his words sounded ridiculous. “I mean I am sorry you cut yourself, but I’m more sorry for what I said out there.”

Her angry gaze met his. None of the warmth she usually held for him lurked in her eyes. “I’ve left you four messages. Four. Were you ever planning on returning my calls?”

The answer stuck in his chest. How could he explain he’d been waiting for a time when he wasn’t so jealous, or so raw, to get back to her? A time when he wouldn’t ache at hearing her voice? He’d figured after a few weeks it wouldn’t hurt so bad. He’d figured wrong. The pain got worse with every day that passed. “Of course I was.”

Meg recognized his answer for the lie it was. This time when she yanked her arm away, he let her go and instantly missed the heat from her skin.