Scout's Honor (10 page)

“That must be Nick. Excuse me.”

It was, and, by some odd quirk of fate, he’d
brought the sultry blonde who had been hanging all over Mitch at
the baccarat table. This time, though, she was clinging to Nick, as
if she were a Swedish ivy with the hots.

“Hi, babe. Looking good,” Nick said, giving
Anna a quick peck on the cheek. “Anna, Lara. Lara, Anna.” He
glanced over at Mitch. “Hi, I’m Nick Torrey.”

“Mitch Summers,” Mitch replied, giving Anna
a confused look.

“Are you in the game tonight?” Nick
asked.

“No.” Mitch and Anna replied at the same
time.

Nick looked at both of them and smiled,
“Definitely not in the game tonight. Lara isn’t playing either.
Maybe you two can entertain each other while we take Dumonde to the
cleaners.”

Anna felt her hackles rise at Nick’s
suggestion, especially when she caught the grin on Mitch’s
face.

“No problem, Nick,” he said. “We’ll do our
best not to disturb you.” He turned to Anna and nodded toward the
kitchen. “Could I see you for a minute before we go?”

Anna gave Nick and Lara a weak smile and
followed Mitch into the kitchen. If events so far were any
indication of how the rest of the evening was going to go, she was
ready to throw in the towel and call it quits.

The café doors swung shut behind them, and
Anna reached for the light switch, but Mitch caught her hand and
pulled her farther into the dark room.

“You’re taking this pretty well,” he said.
His voice was all concern as he continued backing away from the
light in the foyer until they were against the breakfast bar.

Moonshine streamed through the window above
the sink, bathing their faces in its silvery glow.

“Taking what well?” Anna asked, thankful she
was able to articulate the meaningless question when reality was
steadily slipping away and being rapidly replaced by
breath-catching anticipation.

“Nick with another woman,” he explained.
“That one’s a tiger. Believe me, I had quite a time shaking her the
other night.”

“Oh.” She’d forgotten all about her little
white lie.

Mitch watched her in the moonlight, his face
passive, the crooked smile nowhere in sight. “It doesn’t matter
does it, Anna? Nick isn’t your lover.”

She’d never seen him so serious before, and
she knew that whatever happened next was going to be very
important.

“You don’t have to protect yourself from me,
Anna,” he whispered. He took her hands in his and wrapped her arms
around his waist, underneath his jacket. His back was strong and
warm beneath her hands, the muscles moving as he gently cupped her
face.

His breath was soft on her cheek. He rubbed
his nose down the side of hers; then his mouth played across her
delicate skin and nuzzled her lips.

“No more lies, Anna.” His voice was husky,
and she could feel his heart pounding against her own. “Let it
happen if it feels right.” The words blew around her ear, setting
her on fire.

It never entered her mind to resist. She
closed her eyes and opened her mouth, reaching out with her tongue
to touch the line of his jaw, putting into action a thought that
had been on her mind ever since his first kiss. The feel of his
skin beneath her mouth electrified her pulse, shooting it into
overdrive. She leaned into his body for support, and he responded
by slipping one hand around her neck while he let the other one
slide down the back
of her dress.
It left a molten trail, then seemed to brand her when it came to
rest in the small of her back, holding her close.

A low moan echoed off the recesses of her
mouth, and she didn’t know if it was his or hers, as their lips met
and opened for the fulfillment of just another kiss. Another kiss
out of time, out of herself . . . into Mitch’s magic.

The kiss was a sweet burning, aching with
want. Mouths moved against each other in a slow dance of discovery,
tasting and delighting. Mitch ran his tongue along the inside of
her lower lip, then caught it between his teeth and gently tugged.
And the game changed.

Anna felt his body tighten in her arms. His
breath heightened to match the now-desperate note of desire running
through her. She knew they should stop, and she would, soon. . . .
Just one more minute, maybe two. There couldn’t be any harm in
letting the magic last a moment longer, in letting her fingers
tangle in his hair, in letting her body move with his.

His response to her last thought in action
was immediate, and Anna felt her common sense disappear on wings of
delight and feminine satisfaction—then panic. She pushed away from
him and caught her breath, watching him warily, her breasts rising
in agitation. He shouldn’t be able to do this to her so easily,
make her lose control.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes as he fought to
slow his breathing. He held her hand, playing with her fingers, not
yet willing to let her go completely. The seconds ticked by as they
withdrew from each other emotionally into the silence of the
beachhouse kitchen. Anna became aware of voices in the living room,
the pattern of moonlight on the floor, and the emptiness of the
hand he wasn’t holding.

Then he smiled, a crooked grin that
automatically lit his eyes. “Give ’em hell, Anna,” he said,
dropping her hand with a reluctant shrug.

“Right, scout,” she whispered, and stepped
away from him, breaking the spell.

Lara was sitting on the couch, checking her
face in a gold compact while Nick paced the floor. He looked up as
Mitch and Anna came out of the kitchen.

He flipped his wrist and nodded at his
watch. “Okay, kids. We’d better hit the road. Hope you two got
everything worked out. Anna, honey, why don’t you make a pit stop
with your mirror and fix that sweet mouth of yours? Lara, come on,
babe.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “We’ll meet you
in the car. Five minutes max. Mitch, why don’t you come with us, so
the lady won’t be tempted to dawdle . . . or worse yet, pick up
where you left off? Hey! We’ve got a game to play!” Nick’s
excitement was contagious as he hustled them out the door.

It didn’t take even five minutes for Anna to
join them. Nick had put Mitch and Lara in the backseat of his
Mercedes so he and Anna could double-check their strategy on the
way to the marina. The dealer Nick had hired for the night had been
okayed by Dumonde. Anna knew that having a designated dealer would
put Dumonde at a slight disadvantage, but only a slight one. A good
mechanic could do things with the cards even
if
he didn’t handle
the deck. She and Nick would
be operating with a disadvantage too. They wouldn’t have as much
control over the timing of the use of the juice deck.

Anna carefully listened to everything Nick
was saying and managed to hold up her end of the conversation, but
in the back of her mind she was comparing the handsome, dark-haired
man in the expensive white linen suit with Mitch. Of the two, Nick
was certainly the more striking, with his classic profile, deep
blue eyes, and confident sophistication. But Anna had never
panicked in his arms.

Mitch Summers seemed to pull at a different
part of her, though, a part she wasn’t sure she was willing to
explore. His honesty was frightening. He wanted to reach into the
heart of her, expecting to find truth and goodness, and Anna didn’t
want him looking that close. She was afraid he’d come up
empty-handed.

A quiet, derisive laugh escaped her as her
fears came into focus, and Nick glanced at her in confusion. “Want
to let me in on the joke?”

“This joke’s on me, Nick,” she said,
refusing to acknowledge the moment of silence in the backseat. She
knew Mitch was concentrating on her, ignoring Lara’s blithe
chatter. A trace of anger buoyed her determination as she mentally
started preparing herself for the game. She didn’t have anything to
apologize for. If Mitch Summers wanted to breeze through life
clouded by delusions of innocence, that was his problem. She was
Anna Lange, all grown-up and good at what she did.

The night was warm, with a hint of wind,
salty and humid, floating through the air as they pulled up to the
docks. The tide slapped against the moored boats, setting them
creaking, and rocking them on the water in individual rhythms. Anna
made a point of stepping out in front with Nick when they walked
down the wooden planks, holding onto his arm for support in case
she caught her heel. The message was clear, and she hoped Mitch
would believe it.

One of Nick’s deckhands was there with the
speedboat to take them out to the yacht. The dealer, Frank, was
waiting for them on the dock. The roar of the speedboat’s engine
made conversation impossible during the fifteen-minute ride across
the harbor, so Anna used the time to run the marks of the juice
deck through her mind.

They pulled alongside the
Belle
Fille
, and Nick helped tie the boat off as Mitch handed the
ladies up on the deck. Anna felt nothing at his touch. She was back
in control.

The game was set up in the main salon, a
plush lounge paneled in teak, with brass appointments and windows
on three sides. On the fourth side was the galley, where Nick
showed Lara the setup for hors d’oeuvres and bar supplies. She
would hostess the game tonight, serving drinks, emptying ashtrays,
and being congenial. Nick could have had one of his crewmen do the
duty, but Lara was a natural for catering to a man’s whims. Anna
only hoped she wouldn’t get ignored by the flirtatious blonde.

Mitch hadn’t followed the rest of them into
the salon, and Anna had seen him walking the decks with one of the
crew. Apparently he was taking the grand tour. She couldn’t fault
him for that. If you’d never been on a yacht like Nick’s, it was
fascinating to see the layout, to see how a designer had managed to
fit so much opulence and convenience into a limited space.

While Frank mixed himself a drink at the
bar, Anna set the juice deck on the table with the other fresh
decks. Frank wasn’t in on the con. Any dealer they could have
trusted wouldn’t have been approved by Dumonde. The other decks
were straight, but they all looked the same. They would be changing
decks throughout the game, and her main concern was that the juice
came
up near the end. Nick was
supposed to take care of that. She wasn’t worried about Dumonde’s
wiping her out with the first set of cards. He was too smooth for
that. He’d wait, bring the game along a while, before he got
tricky.

Mitch came up behind her and lightly touched
her on the arm. “Whose idea was it to have the game out here in the
middle of the ocean?”

“Nick’s,” she replied, keeping her voice
cool. “He likes to use the yacht.”

“Well, I don’t like it. Not at all.”

“Afraid of the water?” she asked calmly,
returning her attention to the cards.

“No, Anna. I’m sure the ship is seaworthy.
Like you, I’m only afraid of the things I can’t control or don’t
understand.”

Her head snapped up, and she glared at him
in anger and confusion. She wanted to shout at him, How dare you
expect so much of me, see so much of me? Instead she turned away,
giving him the cold shoulder, and concentrated on the grain of the
wood in the table. Her hands gripped its polished edge. They
weren’t going to make it through this night, she thought
defeatedly. It would be Mitch’s own fault if she lost his
ranch.

Nick entered the lounge, discreetly ignoring
the tension surrounding them. “Lara is going to handle drinks and
food tonight,” he said to Mitch, “and Anna and I will pull down the
con. So, Mitch, old buddy, that leaves you to stand around looking
like either an innocent bystander or a mean s.o.b. Take your
pick.”

Innocent was right, Anna thought.

“I’ll take the mean s.o.b.,” Mitch said, his
tone of voice just right for the part.

Sounds of another boat pulling up alongside
distracted their attention.

“That must be Dumonde,” Nick said
.

After a few minutes Dumonde and the two
businessmen stepped into the lounge. Anna detected a flicker of
surprise in Jacques Dumonde’s eyes when he saw her, but he hid it
immediately and walked toward her with an outstretched hand.

“Mademoiselle Lange.” He kissed the back of
her hand, his lips barely touching her skin. “I’m honored.”

“Monsieur,” she replied, pleased that her
mere presence had been able to throw him off-guard for a second. It
wasn’t much, but from here on, every move counted.

He was dressed in a lightweight black suit,
the kind whose sleeves you could push up for a fashionable look.
Anna knew he wouldn’t be pushing up the sleeves, and not just
because he was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt beneath it. She
also knew there would be extra pockets sewn into the inside of his
jacket.

His eyes were dark, almost black, his skin
tanned and starting to show creases from too much sun. Anna had
heard he’d once been a gigolo. It was easy to believe, for he was
still youthfully handsome even in his late forties. He had a
well-cared-for appearance, slick and self-aware.

In contrast, the two businessmen looked
overfed and bland. The only spots of color they sported were the
loud plaids of their jackets. Dumonde really knew how to pick
them.

He introduced the two men, Dan Carlton and
Albert Mawson. Carlton seemed to be the aggressive one of the pair,
and Anna worked at politely untangling her hand from his grip.

“Gentlemen? Shall we begin?” She smiled at
each of them in turn as she settled into her chair.

Frank came out of the galley, laughing with
Lara, and introduced himself around the table. He was new to the
islands, fresh from Vegas, and his complexion was pasty, with beads
of sweat already forming on his brow from the unaccustomed humidity
.

He set his drink on the table and let the
players look over the decks. Albert Mawson didn’t bother. Anna
noted the fact and tucked it away for further reference. Dumonde
took more time with the cards, checking the seals and passing each
deck under his nose. A tremor of apprehension shot through her. She
ignored it, concentrating on the decks as Carlton checked them,
then passed them on to her. Soon she would know how good Larry
Walters really was.