Jo Leigh - The One Who Got Away

“So you fancy yourself Bond, eh?”

“Hey, I could have called you Pussy Galore.”

“I would have decked you if you had.”

He grinned. “Hey, she was a real character.”

“Only a man would say that was a real character.”

“Sir?”

He looked up at Angel, waiting for him to hit or stand pat. His cards, a six and five, were a surprise. He doubled down, and she hit him with a king. Twenty-one.

Taylor didn’t say anything, just gave him a smile. But as the rest of the hands were played, he felt something at his ankle. It was Taylor’s foot. She’d slipped off her shoe, and was using her bare toes to tease him. It worked.

He glanced at her, but the smile had become a sly grin, and her gaze had shifted to Angel, watching her shuffle as if it mattered.

Ben said nothing, just enjoyed the feeling of her toes. He’d never been a foot man, but at the moment, he could understand the impulse. It wasn’t easy to stay still, and not touch her thigh and run his hand over that smooth skin. The image of her on his bed, naked, him holding her by the heel as he studied her pink painted nails, took hold of him and didn’t let him go until Angel coughed.

He picked up his cards, a ten and a seven, then slipped them under his ten-dollar bet. He didn’t give a damn if he won or not. The only thing that mattered at the moment was the woman next to him.

Just as he was about to suggest they leave, a waitress came by. She was young and pretty, as were all the cocktail waitresses in the hotel. Taylor turned to her. “I’ll have a Bloody Mary,” she said. “He’ll have a martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

He laughed. The waitress jotted the orders without so much as a blink, then got the rest of the drink orders. So Taylor liked his game.

He faced Sarah. “Are you here by yourself?”

She shook her head. “I’m with three friends from work.”

“And they are…?”

“At the pool. But I burn so easily, it seemed kind of dumb.”

“This is more interesting,” he said. “You can learn a lot about people by watching them gamble.”

“Really?”

“See that man at the Wheel of Fortune?”

She followed his gaze and nodded when she saw the portly fellow standing next to his stool, feeding a bill into the machine. He didn’t look as if he was having a very good time. In fact, his heavy brows furrowed to match his scowl, his scalp, bald all the way back to the crown of his head, was beaded with sweat. His light cotton shirt was stretched across his ample beer belly, and there were large circles of sweat under his arms. He ignored the pull lever, pushing the maximum-bet button with the palm of his hand. As the wheels spun, his lips moved. Probably a prayer, and then a curse as he got nothing, nothing, nothing.

“He isn’t having much luck,” Sarah observed.

“No, it doesn’t appear he is. You know that every time he pushes the button, it’s two dollars.”

“Oh.”

“And since we’ve been watching him, he’s pressed that button what, twelve times? That’s twenty-four dollars. He was standing there before we sat down.”

“Whoa, that’s a lot of money.”

“He’s not holding a bucket, so no winnings.”

“Yikes.”

“Indeed. What else do you see?”

While Sarah studied the scene, he turned to Taylor. “You realize, of course,” he whispered, “you’re not going to get away with this unscathed.”

“What?” she asked, batting her eyelashes like the soul of innocence while she inched her toes up his calf.

“Whatever you had planned this afternoon? Cancel it.”

Her cheeks became pink and the gaze that met his was full of anticipation and excitement. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have to meet my mother.”

“Meet her later.”

“You presume, Mr. Bowman.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Then he leaned over so his lips were an inch from the soft shell of her ear. “I’m going to make you beg for mercy.”

She inhaled sharply, grabbed her cards with trembling fingers.

Sarah, to his left, said, “Hey.”

He held back his grin as he turned to his young friend. “Yes?”

“He’s got a whole bunch of glasses stacked there. And he’s kind of swaying,” Sarah said.

“Which means?”

“He’s toasted. And scared. He’s lost a whole bunch of money and he’s trying to win it back.”

“Excellent.”

“Cool.”

“It pays to be observant.”

It was Sarah’s turn to grin. “Like seeing that you two aren’t from London at all. That you’ve been playing footsie for about ten minutes, and that while I’m not positive your name isn’t James, it sure as heck isn’t Bond.”

Taylor laughed. Angel grinned, and it wasn’t because she’d dealt herself twenty-one.

“Very good, Sarah. If you ever get tired of post-production, you’d make a good detective.”

She smiled, mightily pleased with herself. “Is that what you really do?”

He held out his hand. “Ben Bowman, Private Detective.”

She shook his hand, but her gaze went to Taylor. “Are you a P.I., too?”

“I’m a paralegal, which isn’t half as interesting.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Are you playing, sir?”

Ben realized he’d abandoned his cards altogether. He slipped two five dollar chips into the rectangle, and put another five above it, playing the bet for the dealer.

Taylor and Sarah both straightened, made their own bets, and each of them followed suit in tipping Angel. It turned out well for everyone. Angel busted with twenty-four.

“It’s almost noon,” Taylor said. “My mother’s going to be here in an hour.”

He shoved his whole stack of chips toward the center of the table. “Cash me in, please.”

Taylor’s laughter was as intoxicating as the drink that arrived while he waited for his chips.

“Still want to cash out?” Taylor asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

“But our drinks…”

“Are portable.”

“Good point.”

Sarah sighed. “You guys are so lucky. How wonderful to be in love in Las Vegas.”

Ben froze, Taylor cleared her throat and Angel wasn’t at all successful in hiding a knowing grin.

Taylor pushed her chips in after Ben got his money back. “We are lucky, thank you. But we’re actually here for my brother’s wedding.”

Sarah leaned forward over the lip of the table. “Why not make it a double wedding? Or better yet, run off to one of those cool chapels. You could get married by Elvis.” She reached frantically into her oversized purse and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. “This is my room number. I’m here for three more days. If you guys do get married, I want to be there.”

“I’d be delighted to take your card,” Ben said with a bow. “But I’ve been married. It’s not going to happen again. Ever.”

Sarah smiled at him slyly. “You never know. Magic things happen in Las Vegas.”

He looked at Taylor. “Magic, yes. But some things aren’t in the cards.” Nodding once more at Sarah, he said, “Hope you win a bundle.”

She glanced back at the Wheel of Fortune. The same man was still desperately pressing the max bet button, the only thing to have changed was the number of empty cocktail glasses beside him. “I’ll settle for not losing my shirt.”

“Good girl.”

“I’m ready,” Taylor said, and from the high flush of her cheeks, he believed her.

Sarah was forgotten in a flash, as was blackjack, gambling of any sort, the casino, the hotel, the entire city. All that mattered was the woman in front of him and getting her to his room. There was so much to do.

He took her arm at the elbow. “Let’s go.”

TAYLOR PRACTICALLY had to run to keep up with Ben’s long strides. He darted and weaved through the crowd, aiming for the elevators. Her drink sloshed as she tried not to step on toes. It would have been smarter just to put the glass down, but there was no stopping Ben. Nor did she want to. She felt like a teenager…. No, like the teenager she’d been with Ben. How she’d loved him! He’d been the only thing in her life for well over a year.