The Winning Hand (19 page)

“He’s a card counter.” Mac pulled up a chair and sat between his parents, eyeing his father. “We don’t like card counters around here. We ask them politely to take their money elsewhere.”

“I taught you how to count cards before you could handle a two-wheeler.”

“Yeah.” Mac’s grin flashed and spread. “That’s why I can spot ’em.”

“Your father’s still as slick as he was when he bet me a walk on the deck of the ship on one hand of twenty-one. He hit on seventeen then, too.”

“Oh.” Darcy’s heart sighed. “That’s so romantic.”

“Serena didn’t think so at the time.” Justin sent Serena a long, slow smile. “But I changed her mind.”

“I thought you were arrogant, dangerous and cocky. I still do,” Serena added, sipping at her wine. “I just learned to like it.”

“Are you two going to flirt with each other or play cards?” Mac demanded.

“They can do both,” Darcy told him. “I’ve been watching.”

“Learned anything?”

It was the delivery, smooth as silk, that flustered her as much as the words. She looked at him, large eyes shuttered by dark lashes. “If you don’t bet, you don’t win.”

“I’ve got a couple hours off.” He spoke to the table at large, but his eyes were on Darcy’s as he rose, held out a hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to his parents, then drew Darcy to her feet. “Let’s go out.”

“Out?”

“There’s more to Vegas than The Comanche.”

“Good night,” she called over her shoulder as Mac was already pulling her away.

Justin drew on his cigar, tapped it idly. “The boy’s a goner,” he decided.

The minute she stepped outside, Darcy realized she hadn’t been out of the hotel after sunset since she arrived. For a moment she simply stood, between the tumbling sapphire water of a fountain and the
grand gilded statue of the war chief.

The lights were dazzling, the traffic edgy. Vegas was a woman, she thought, part honky-tonk, part siren, bold, brassy and seductive.

“It’s so … much,” she decided.

“And there’s always more. The Strip’s a few blocks long, a few blocks wide, but you can smell money in every foot of it. Gambling’s the core, but it’s not a one-factory town anymore. Headliners, circus acts, wedding bells and rides for the kids.”

He glanced back at the wide and towering double arch that was The Comanche. “We added a thousand rooms five years ago. We could add a thousand more and still fill them.”

“It’s a huge responsibility. Running an enterprise of this size.”

“I like it.”

“The challenge?” she wondered. “Or the power, or the excitement?”

“All of it.” He turned back, then, taking her hand, stepped back. He hadn’t gotten beyond her face in the bar. Those eyes of hers always seemed to capture his mind first. Now he took in the glittering glamour of her jacket and the invitational red of her dress.

“I should have stolen more than a couple hours. You need to be taken out on the town.”

“I’d love a couple of hours. Where should we go?”

“I can’t manage a drive into the mountains in the moonlight, but I can take you for a walk through a tunnel full of fantasies.”

He took her walking on Fremont, where the street was covered and full of lights. Colors circled and bled overhead, and the ever-present clack of the slots added a musical, carnival feel. She could marvel at the light show, delight in the music and walk hand in hand with him on what was so suddenly and unexpectedly an innocent date.

He bought her ice cream, and made her laugh.

She rode the elevator to the top of The Stratosphere with him, thrilled at the idea that she was rising
up inside of that towering needle that stood at the edge of the Strip. And though she stared then gulped at the sight of the rooftop roller coaster, the silent challenge in his eyes had her scooting into the car with him.

“I’ve never ridden a roller coaster in my life.”

“You might as well start with a champ,” he told her.

“I tried a Tilt-A-Whirl once at a carnival but …” She trailed off. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Almost everyone who gets on gets off again. The odds are good.” He laughed at the horrified look in her eyes, then took advantage—as he’d intended to—when the coaster started its climb and she gripped him in a death hold. “I want to kiss you.”

“Okay, but you could have done that on the ground.” She lifted her face, which she’d buried in his shoulder.

“Not yet,” he murmured, but laid his hands on her cheeks. “Not quite yet.”

Lulled, she smiled and her heart began to beat normally again. “It’s not so bad. I didn’t realize it would be so nice and slow.”

Then they dipped, spinning fast into a free fall that shot her stomach hard against her ribs and burned white-hot fear into her throat.

“Now.” And he took her mouth greedily as they swung over the edge of the world.

She couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t even breath to scream. They were flying, rocketing up, plunging down, shoved into the void then snatched back while his mouth assaulted hers with a single-minded intensity that left her stupefied.

Speed, light, screams. And that firestorm of stunning heat that refused to be stopped. Dizzy, breathless, helplessly caught in the crosshatch of arousal and fear, she clung to him.

And gave him what he’d wanted—crazed, half-terrified surrender.

Her head was still reeling after they’d jerked to a stop. Her fingers continued to grip his jacket, as if fused there. “God.” The word exploded from her lips. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.” She
shuddered once. “Can we do it again?”

His grin flashed. “Oh yeah.”

She felt drunk and giddy by the time they stood on the street again. “Oh, that was wonderful. It made my head spin.” She laughed as he slipped a supporting arm around her waist. “I won’t be able to walk a straight line for hours.”

“Then you’ll have to lean on me—which was part of my plan.”

Laughing again, she threw back her head to watch an explosion of fireworks. Jewel colors shot into the black sky, and fountained there. “Everything’s so bright here, so bold. Nothing’s too high or too big or too fast.” She turned into him. “Nothing’s impossible here.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him with a passion that had waited a long time to wake. “I want to do everything. I want to do everything twice, then pick the best and do it again.”

He slid his arms under her jacket and discovered to his delight that the dress left her back bare to his hands. “We’ve got a little time before I have to get back. What would you like to do?”

“Well …” Her eyes sparkled in the neon. “I’ve never seen an exotic dancer.”

“And your second choice would be?”

“I just wonder what it would be like in one of those places where the women dance topless and slide around on those poles.”

“No, I’m definitely not taking you to a strip joint.”

“I’ve seen naked women before.”

“No.”

“All right.” She moved a shoulder, began to walk casually beside him. “I’ll just go by myself some other time.”

He shot her a look, narrowed his eyes, but she only smiled up sunnily. He considered himself highly skilled at judging a bluff. And knew when he was up against a better hand.

“Ten minutes,” he muttered. “And you don’t say a word while we’re inside.”

“Ten minutes is fine.” Delighted with the victory, she tucked her arm through his.

“The patriotic one was double-jointed, I’m sure of it.” With another fascinating experience under her belt, Darcy breezed into Mac’s office just ahead of him. “The one with the little flag over her—”

“I know the one you mean.” Every time he thought he had her pegged, Mac thought, she flustered him. She hadn’t been the least bit embarrassed or shocked. Instead she’d been fascinated.

“The way they slid around on that pole, they must practice for hours. And the muscle control, it’s phenomenal.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into taking you into a place like that.”

“I had no idea.”

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean about you.” She sat on the arm of a chair. He was already behind his desk, scanning the screens.

“What about me?”

“That under that suave, sophisticated exterior, you’re really a fuddy-duddy at heart.”

He stared at her, unsure if he should be amused or insulted. “Anyone who uses the expression ‘fuddy-duddy’ in a sentence automatically assumes fuddy-duddy status.”

“I’ve never heard that.”

“It’s written down somewhere. Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” She couldn’t sit still and rose to circle the room. “I had such a wonderful time. It’s been the most incredible day of my life—and I’ve had some incredible days lately. Everything’s churning about inside me.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if to hold it all in. “I don’t think there’s any room for food.”

Her jacket caught the lights as she moved, glittering like jewel-toned stars that reminded him of the fireworks. But it was her face—it always seemed to be her face—that held his attention. “Champagne?”

She laughed, a warm delighted sound. “There’s always room for champagne. Imagine me being able to say that. It’s like every minute I’m here is another little miracle.”

He took a bottle from the small refrigerator behind the wet bar, watching her as he opened it. She was glowing, he thought, eyes, cheeks, lips. Everything about her seemed to pulse with energy and fresh, unshadowed joy.

Seeing it, feeling it, aroused, contented and unnerved him. Be with me, she’d asked him. And being with her, on a walk down a crowded street, alone in a tumbled bed, over a candlelit table, was becoming uncomfortably vital.

But she was glowing. How could he take his eyes off her? “I like seeing you happy.”

“Then you must be having a good night, too. I’ve never been so happy.” She took the glass he offered, twirling around as she sipped. “Can I stay here with you awhile, watch the people?”

Did she really have no idea how she affected him? he wondered. “Stay as long as you want.”

“Will you tell me what you’re looking for when you watch the screens? I don’t see anything but people.”

“Trouble, scams, tells.”

“What are tells?”

“Everybody has them. Gestures, repetitive habits that tell you what’s going on in the head.” He smiled at her. “You link your fingers together when you’re nervous. It keeps you from biting your nails. You cock your head to the left when you’re concentrating.”

“Oh. Like the way you put your hands in your pockets when you’re frustrated—so you don’t punch someone.”

He lifted a brow. “Good.”

“It’s easy when you’re watching a handful of people, but there are so many,” she added, gesturing
to the screens. “How do you pick them out?”

“You get to know what to look for. This is only backup. The first line of defense against scam artists is the dealer.” He walked up behind her, laid a hand on her shoulder so they could watch the screens together. “Then the floor man, the pit boss, the shift boss. And over it all is the eye in the sky.”

“This?”

“No, this is a wink. We have a control room with hundreds of screens like this. The staff in there watches the casino from every angle, and they’re linked to the floor men, the shift and pit bosses with radios. They’ll spot a hand mucker—”

“A what?”

“Card palming. The scam artist is dealt say a six and an eight, he palms them, and switches them with a queen and ace for a blackjack. Cheating’s a problem—more now than it used to be when you were dealing with loaded dice and fast hands. We’re talking body computers these days.”

Body computers, she thought, scam artist. Hand mucking. Wouldn’t that be a fascinating backdrop for a book? “What do you do when you catch someone cheating?”

“Show them the door.”

“That’s it?”

“They don’t walk out with our money.”

The chill in his voice had Darcy glancing back at his face. “I bet they don’t,” she murmured.

“We run a clean room, the cameras there and in all the counting areas help keep it honest. But the house always has the edge. It’s not hard to win money in The Comanche, but odds are, you won’t keep it.”

“Because you want to keep playing.” She understood that. It was so hard to stop when there was a chance for more.

“And the longer you play, the more you’ll put back.”

“But it’s worth it, isn’t it? If you’ve enjoyed yourself. If it’s made you happy.”

“As long as you know what you’re risking.” He brought her to her feet, and saw that she understood they were no longer talking about table games and slots.

“The danger’s part of the allure.” Her heart began to thud as he took the glass from her hand and set it aside. “That, and the whiff of sin. You get a taste for it.”

“And why stop at a bite or two, when you can have all you want.” His gaze roamed over her face, lingering on her mouth, then sliding down. “Take off your jacket.”

“We’re in your office.”

His eyes came back to hers, and his smile was slow and dangerous. “I wanted you, here, the first day you came in. Now I’m going to have you, here. Take off your jacket.”

Mesmerized, she slipped it off, let it fall in a colorful pool over the arm of the chair. When she realized she’d linked her fingers together, she pulled them apart. And made him smile again.