The Gambler (21 page)

She reached up and kissed his cheek and then rubbed the spot with her thumb. “Don’t let this ruin our night.”

“You said you hate to gamble.”

She stared into his eyes for several seconds. “It depends on what I’m gambling on.”

Before he could respond, she grabbed his hand and pulled him along. Could she be talking about him?
Them?
Was she thinking about a quick fling or something more? Maybe she was talking about moving to Seattle. Or even choosing a new deodorant. The possibilities were endless.

He barely registered where they were going. The truth was, he hated Caesar’s Palace, but Scott Abrahams was staying there, and as massive as Vegas was, it made sense to stay in the same place. He hadn’t heard from Tiffany, and that had him more than a little worried. He still hadn’t let her know he only wanted information from her, but he’d deal with that when the time came. 

Libby headed for one of the blackjack areas, but Noah pulled her back. “We should eat first. You have to be starving.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not hungry.”

“We have to eat sometime tonight and we’re all dressed up. How about I make a reservation somewhere? We can play for an hour or two and then have a late dinner.”

She pondered it a moment. “That’s a great idea. Maybe Gram can join us.”

Gram. He’d almost forgotten about her. So much for a romantic dinner, not that it was going to be one. His current plan was to woo her until they got to Seattle, then tell her how he felt. Her one-year celibacy plan was an issue, but he was pretty sure it was only a protective measure. If she insisted on following through with it, he’d respect her wishes and wait.

He pulled out his phone and looked up a contact. “How about if I make reservations at Blue Willow for four at eleven? If Nana Ruby decides not to come, it’ll be no big deal to go from four to three.” When she seemed to hesitate, he added, “I ate there last time I was in Vegas, and it’s pretty nice.”

“But is it expensive? With the hotels and the food . . . I know we’re splitting the cost, but I spent a lot of money on the . . .”

Her voice trailed off and he knew she was talking about the wedding. She’d mentioned that she’d paid for most of it herself, without her mother’s financial or emotional support. She’d barely let Mitch pay for anything, which seemed odd considering she had given him everything he wanted. But she hardly had any money in the first place, so she had to be broke now.

“Don’t worry about the cost. Tomorrow’s your birthday. You only turn thirty once. Consider it my birthday gift to you.”

The mention of her birthday sent a dark shadow over her face and she turned toward the gaming area again. “I need a drink.”

“What do you want? I’ll get you one.”

“I can get my own drink,” she said defensively. “You take care of getting chips.”

The memory of the asshole in the elevator was still fresh in his mind. “I think we should stick together.”

She laughed, but the sound was devoid of any humor. “I know how to handle men, Noah. Just like you know how to handle women. It’s what we do best.”

His mouth gaped open. It was the truth, but it was hard to hear it put so bluntly.

She shoved his arm. “Go on. I’m going to flag down that waitress. What do you want?” 

Beer wasn’t going to cut it tonight. “Gin and tonic.”

She lifted her eyebrows, but something was still off. “Going for the big guns tonight, huh?”

She cut off his response by flagging down a departing waitress. When she noticed he was still standing there watching her, she mouthed
go
with an exasperated look.

After he made the reservation for the restaurant and bought a hundred dollars’ worth of chips, he found her sitting at a blackjack table. She had the rapt attention of the two men who sat to her right. They looked to be in their thirties and both were fairly good-looking and obviously interested in her. Libby was playing with a small stack of chips in front of her, picking them up and letting them drop into a stack with a rhythmic clink.

“Mississippi, you say?” she asked, her voice sultry. “I’ve never been to Mississippi. Is it as hot as they say it is?”

She was flirting with them. 

He stuffed down his anger and jealousy. As far as she was concerned, they were nothing more than friends. Still, he’d never tried to pick up women when they were together. He’d told himself it was out of respect for her, but now he knew it was because he’d loved her all along. Apparently she didn’t feel the same limitation now that she wasn’t with Mitch.

Noah stood back and watched her, surprised she didn’t realize he was there. It was obvious the two guys hadn’t put it together that they knew each other. She leaned forward, batting her lashes, and put her hand on the hand of the man closest to her.

He’d never seen her this way. She’d always been real with him, even that first weekend before Josh and Megan’s wedding. Still, he’d always suspected she was an accomplished flirt. Her current performance confirmed it. This wasn’t the woman he knew, and dammit, it was hard to see her this way.

“Libby,” he said, trying to keep the tightness out of his voice. “Where’d you get the chips?” He already knew, but dammit, he wanted her to admit it.

She turned and flashed him a brilliant smile, but there was something dark in her eyes. “Craig here was kind enough to loan me a few. Wasn’t that sweet?”

The two men were now giving their full attention to Noah. He glared at the man on the end, whose reddening face identified him as Craig.

Craig slid off his stool. “We didn’t know she had a boyfriend, man. She told us she was waiting for her friend. We thought her friend was a
she.
”

Both men grabbed their chips and Noah said, “Hey, don’t forget this.” He tossed a twenty-five-dollar chip across the table toward them.

They scurried away and Libby looked up at him with a lazy grin that didn’t reach her eyes. She pushed a glass toward him. “Here’s your drink.”

He reacted before he had time to think it through. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” she asked innocently. “Are you going to play or not?”

The dealer’s eyes narrowed, waiting to see how this played out.

This wasn’t how he’d hoped things would go at all. “I thought you’d sworn off men for a year.”

A sheepish look covered her face.

What had made her go from welcoming his touch minutes ago to practically blowing him off for two strangers? Then it hit him.

She was terrified.

She was scared to admit she wanted something more with him. So her instinct was to prove she didn’t need him by finding some guy for a meaningless one-night stand.

He was still upset, but he forced himself to see this as progress. He smiled even if he didn’t feel like it, then reached for her chips and slid them away. “These are luckier,” he said, replacing them with part of his stack.

There was worry in her eyes when she met his gaze, but it vanished in an instant, replaced with another performance. “And what do you have for luck?”

His smile turned more genuine. “You.” Then he added, “Gram said your dress was lucky, remember?”

She nodded and turned her attention to the table.

They put some chips down and the dealer dealt them their hands. After fifteen minutes, Libby was twenty dollars richer and Noah was ahead by fifty. “I told you it was our lucky night,” Noah told her with a wink.

A waitress passed their table and Libby got her attention. “Another mojito, please.” 

Libby shot Noah a questioning glance and he shook his head. “I’m good.”

They spent the next thirty minutes at the table, both of them winning some and losing some, then Libby finished her drink and stood. “Let’s go do something else.”

They scooped up their chips and moved away from the table. Libby wobbled slightly, so Noah took her arm. “Why don’t we get something to eat?”

“What time is it? I thought you made dinner reservations for eleven.”

“It’s around nine-thirty, but we haven’t eaten since this afternoon. I’m hungry. Let’s get a snack.”

“I thought you wanted to gamble.”

“Let’s sit at the slot machines. We can grab something to eat while we play.”

“Okay. But first I have to go to the restroom.”

“Of course you do,” he chuckled. “I’ll go get something to eat and meet you at these slots right here, okay?”

She studied him for a moment. “Afraid I’ll ditch you?”

His breath caught. “Should I be?”

A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “No, you’re safe for now.”

Libby went into the restroom and took care of her business, then washed her shaking hands and looked at her reflection.

Why had she flirted with those guys? It wasn’t like she was interested, but if she was going to act on this impulse to sleep with someone, it would be better to do it with a stranger she’d never have to see again than to sleep with Noah and lose him forever.

But it made her feel slimy and unworthy of Noah’s friendship.

She wasn’t sure why his reaction to those guys had surprised her. She couldn’t ignore what was right in front of her face. Noah wanted to sleep with her. There was no misinterpreting that. She wasn’t sure she could be strong enough for the both of them.

He was waiting at a slot machine with a bowl of nachos and a couple of bottles of water.

She sat down next to him, grinning. “You realize how ridiculous this is, right? I’m wearing this dress and you’re in a tux, but we’re sitting here eating chips covered in processed cheese in front of dollar slot machines.”

He grabbed a chip and took a bite. “It’s kind of more us, don’t you think?” He held up the container toward her. “The nachos, not the machines.”

She took a chip and leaned over the container so she didn’t drip cheese on her dress. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“How come you’ve never read my palm?”

The question came out of nowhere and caught her off guard. “Uh . . . I don’t know.” But that wasn’t true. She realized that now. She’d been worried about what she’d see, or more aptly, what she
wouldn’t
see.

He took another chip and looked into her eyes. “You’ve read the palms of just about everyone we know, yet you’ve never asked to read mine.”

“First of all, we hardly have any friends in common, and second, you’ve never
asked
me to read your palm.”

He set the tray of nachos down and held out his palm to her. “Libby,” he said in a husky voice. “I want you to read my palm.”

Her heart began to race, and she fought to keep her breathing even. She started to reach for his hand, then stopped. What was she so afraid of? Confirmation of what she already knew? Noah McMillan wasn’t the man destined for her. “You don’t believe in it.”

“Maybe I do.
You
do. And you were right about Josh.”

“I thought you said it was a lucky guess.”

“What difference does it make if I believe or not? I want you to read my palm.”

She took a deep breath and grabbed his hand, the contact sending a jolt of desire straight to her core. Trying her best to ignore it, she cradled his hand in hers, using her right index finger to trace the lines.

“What does it say?”

Her nerves were on edge and she could hardly concentrate on the grooves in his hand. “You have a deep life line. You’re very healthy.”

“True.” Her eyes were still on his hand, but she could hear the grin in his voice.

“It’s also very long. You’ll live a long life.”

“So you’re saying I can take up dangerous sports without fear, like sky diving or rope-free cliff climbing.”

She grinned and snuck a look at him. “No.”

His eyes held hers and she felt a new connection to him. What was it? It was at once deep and unnerving and . . . comforting. Then it hit her.

Love.

She loved him.

Not just
you’re my best friend
love. She was head over heels
in
love with him.

“Go on,” he coaxed softly. “I want to hear about my love line.”

Oh, God. This was
terrible.
What did she do with this knowledge—this
yearning
for him? Noah was bound to freak out if he knew she felt anything for him other than friendship and primal lust. If he even got an inkling, he was sure to take off running. That’s what he’d done with all of his past relationships.

Get it together
, she told herself.
Don’t let him see anything’s wrong.
She took a breath, trying to steady her nerves. “I’m not done with your life line.”

“All right.”

With great difficulty, she tore her eyes from his and looked down at his palm. “There are several hash marks on your life line indicating major life events.” She lifted his hand closer to her face. “The first was in your very early twenties.”

“My father’s death,” he murmured. “When I took over the company.”

“Another in your mid- to late thirties.” She paused and took a closer look. “Several, actually.”

“Bad things?”

She pursed her lips. “No, not necessarily. The way some of these are smaller and close together suggests they might be marriage and children.”