Kristin Hardy - Her High-Stakes Playboy

Rennie turned over his cards to show a four and a nine and gave her that devilish smile again. This time it sent a pulse of adrenaline through her system that had nothing to do with nerves. “Looks like you brought me that luck.”

“Maybe I’ll stick around,” she said carelessly, picking up the chips the dealer slid her way.

“Maybe you should.” He had a way of looking at her as though she were the only thing in his field of view that interested him, as though the game were irrelevant now that she’d arrived.

Her cosmopolitan appeared at her elbow.

He raised an eyebrow. “Girlie drinks?”

“A woman’s got to do what a woman’s got to do.”

“And I’m sure you do it well.” He lifted his whiskey and touched it to her glass.

Cool and sweet, the drink slid down her throat easily.

The dealer coughed. “Bets, please.”

Gwen studied her bet circle. Aggressive but not foolish. She slid six five-dollar chips into the circle.

Rennie gave her that look again, the one that said he knew exactly what she was thinking and it amused him. “Living large?”

“Feeling lucky.”

And her feeling was borne out when the dealer busted, leaving them both ahead.

“So, you out here for business or pleasure?” she asked casually.

“Business, but no reason it has to be all work. How about you?”

“Pleasure. I was supposed to meet a friend named Jerry, but he had to bail.” This, of course, was his lead-in to talk about his own friend named Jerry, but he didn’t bite.

Instead he just raised an eyebrow and pushed out a couple of chips. “A friend friend or just a friend?”

Gwen flushed. “Just a buddy.”

“His loss is my gain.” Rennie shifted in the chair. He had broad shoulders on what looked like a rangy build. That was all right—she liked leanly built men. He gave her a slow smile that had her stomach turning cartwheels.

Gwen blinked. Wait a minute. Back up. This was not part of the program. It was one thing to flirt and convince him she was interested. It was another thing to do it so well she convinced herself. He was the enemy. She needed to remember that. Get close, sure, but keep her distance.

The dealer flipped them a new hand with quick, economical motions. Gwen checked her hole card and tapped for another. Rennie did, too, but he took it too far and busted.

“Bummer,” Gwen said, stacking her chips.

“I thought I had enough breathing room.”

“You know what Penn and Teller say—Las Vegas is powered by the Hoover Dam and bad mathematics.”

He studied her and took a swallow of whiskey. “That’s a pretty cynical opinion for a player.”

“I look at it as a challenge.” She tipped her glass to take a drink and found to her surprise that it was nearly empty.

“And you like challenges?”

“I think they make life a little more interesting.”

“You don’t look much like the type who likes to be bored.” He pushed a short stack of chips into his betting circle.

“How about you?”

He gave her that smile again and her pulse bumped a bit. “I’m all for excitement.” He considered. “Then again, there’s something to be said for just hanging.”

Gwen checked her cards. “Just you and your buddies. You know, whoever you’re here with?”

“Not necessarily,” he answered, tapping the table for another hit. “My buddies can fend for themselves.”

“Are they around?”

He gave her an amused look as she moved to hold. “You seem awfully interested in my friends. A guy could take it kind of personally.”

“I don’t think you should do that,” she said quickly, pleased to see she’d won another round. “I was just curious.”

“I’m much more interesting than my friends.”

The look he gave her this time sent a shiver right down to her toes. The cocktail waitress set another cosmopolitan by her elbow, and Gwen fell on it as though it were salvation.

CHIPS SAT STACKED IN COLORED towers in front of her. She had no idea what the hour was—in a Vegas casino there were no clocks, no windows. High noon looked like midnight when you were at the tables. Time was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the flip of the cards, the spin of the wheel, the roll of the dice.

She felt no fatigue—far from it. She was wired, playing on house money. Her luck had been solid so far, but it was beginning to flag. Gwen drew a queen to a hand that was already twelve and busted.

Rennie looked at her. “We got a bad trend going here,” he observed, gesturing at his own busted hand. “I’m thinking it’s time to knock off while I’m ahead.” He pushed his chips to the dealer, asking for a consolidation.

Panic seized Gwen. He couldn’t leave—how would she find him again? She knew almost nothing about him, aside from the fact that he had a sexy smile and a weakness for banter.

And maybe a weakness for her.

Nina, of course, wouldn’t be shy about putting her looks to work for her. No way would she just let the guy walk away. If Nina were trying to follow the trail of millions of dollars, she’d do whatever was necessary to persuade him to stick around. Gwen sent him a look from under her lashes as she collected her consolidated chips from the dealer. “So, how about a drink?”

4

WAS IT HER IMAGINATION OR was there more devilry in his smile? “Sure.” He slid his handful of hundred-dollar chips into the pocket of his jeans.

Cosmopolitans, Gwen discovered as she rose from the table, had more of a kick than white wine. Her heel caught in the carpet as she slid off the stool.

“Whoa.” Rennie caught her as she stumbled. “Here, why don’t you grab my arm?”

“That’s very gallant of you.” His bicep was a solid swell under her fingers. The contact shivered through her. He wasn’t built lightly at all, she realized as he tucked her hand against his body. The guy had some very real muscle. Her imagination instantly conjured up images of washboard abs and cannonball shoulders.

“Just call me Sir Galahad,” he said. “So, where do you want to go?”

“Let’s find a nightcap.”

“You sure? We’ve been drinking for the last two hours. Have you had dinner?”

Gwen thought back but couldn’t remember. “Something on the plane, maybe.” He was an inch or two taller than she was, even in her spike heels, she realized. There was something alarmingly cozy about him standing there holding her hand against him protectively.

He looked down at her a moment and considered. “How about if we go to the Reef Bar. Maybe we can get some food there. Trust me, you’ll be happier tomorrow.”

The bar was dark and yet lit with an aqua luminescence from the aquarium that took up one wall. Tropical fish made bright flashes of color amid rocks and waving green fronds. Music played in the background, but there was no crowd and no dance floor.

Quiet and dark was perfect for her purposes, Gwen thought as they took seats off in a corner. Or maybe not. The tabletop was about the size of a dinner plate, she realized. By the time she’d scooted onto her high stool, she found herself much, much closer to him than she’d anticipated. Close enough to find herself staring at that enticing mouth. Close enough to find herself noticing the way the aqua light reflected off his cheekbones. He really was gorgeous, she realized, not to mention sexy as hell.

Okay, reality check. Getting distracted was not good. She was here only to try to track down Jerry. Recreation with Rennie—one of the bad guys—was out of the question.

On the other hand, she’d do what was necessary to accomplish her purpose.

A waitress appeared, dressed in the bikini top and sarong uniform of the bar. “What’ll it be, folks?”