Katherine Garbera - Her High-Stakes Affair

Scott was honest enough to admit that the gambler in him wanted to take a chance on it. The added risk increased the odds that she wouldn’t go out with him unless she really wanted to. He couldn’t explain it beyond that but knew himself well enough by now to know that there was something appealing about the idea.

“You’re working up a sweat and she’s barely noticing you, Rivers. What would your fan club say?”

Scott didn’t respond to the goad. He didn’t have a fan club and Stevie knew it. His child stardom had translated into cult-classic films in his early twenties and two one-offs that had turned into blockbusters. He acted when he felt like it, preferring to spend most of his time working with the charitable trust he had set up with his own money. “I’m not worried, Stevie.”

“Some boys aren’t meant to play in the big leagues,” the other man said.

“Whatever. You know she can’t really show that she’s attracted to me.”

“Because she isn’t?” Stevie said with a snicker.

“Because we work together.” A man like Stevie would never understand the distinction, but Scott knew that Raine would. That her job and her reputation would be important to her. He understood why.

“I wouldn’t let that stop me.”

He wasn’t going to defend himself like some teenage boy with his first woman. Scott was thirty-eight, and he couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to get drawn into this conversation.

He’d arrived early on the set hoping for some alone time with Raine, and he’d gotten it. He just hadn’t expected Stevie to show up.

“What, no glib remark?”

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

Stevie laughed. “You’re not the first to say it. But that doesn’t change the fact that Ms. Montgomery isn’t exactly falling for you.”

Stevie wasn’t going to let this go. No matter what Scott said or did, Stevie was always going to bring up Raine. And Scott didn’t want that.

“What would it take for you to drop this?”

“Prove me wrong. Prove you’re not out of your element with Raine.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“How about a little wager?”

“On a woman? Have you been living under a rock for the past twenty years?”

“There’s no reason anyone other than the two of us has to know about it.”

Famous last words. He glanced around the set. They appeared to be all alone, and so he thought they had the kind of privacy that was something of a luxury on a busy television or movie set.

“What’d you have in mind?”

“A simple bet…you get her in bed before the show wraps.”

Scott had that tingling at the back of his neck that he always got before he did something risky. Like sky surfing or kayaking down dangerous rapids. Something that all of his self-preservation instincts said not to do. But he wanted Raine, and he suspected she wanted him, too.

He knew he’d never tell Stevie a single detail of his time with her, but if it got Stevie off his back, then it might be worth it.

“What’s the wager?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“You’re on.”

Raine couldn’t believe she’d just overheard Scott making a bet about her with Stevie Taylor. The rocker was as legendary for his kinky sex-capades as he was for his wicked guitar licks.

Why had she activated the microphones when she’d gotten into her booth? Because she was an idiot. This is what happens when you eavesdrop, she told herself.

Raine’s hands shook, and she wanted to smack Scott right between the eyes. What the hell was he thinking making a bet about taking her to bed? That was low and mean. And it hurt so much because she’d thought he was different.

She leaned toward the booth’s tinted window and glanced down at the floor where the two men stood away from everyone else.

Raine watched both men take their seats at the table and went back to her monitor to watch the screen. But all she saw was red. Having been the pawn in a gambler’s game before, she refused to let it happen again.

She wasn’t sure how to get the upper hand on Scott. As a child star, he’d grown up in front of America and had charmed everyone by coming into their homes once a week for fifteen years. In the three days they’d been in Vegas, Raine had yet to see one person deny the man anything he asked for—except her.

He was good-looking. Well, only if you liked guys with unruly hair that fell to their shoulders and who wore a goatee. Which, of course, she did.

And she’d been thinking that maybe it was time to take a chance again on a guy before she’d heard his bet. A bet about her. She wanted to sink to the floor and wrap her arms around her waist. But she didn’t; instead she pressed the button so that the cast and crew could hear her.

“Places, please.”

She hated that she was attracted to a man who seemed to bluff his way through life. She’d been raised by the ultimate con man. A grifter, bar none, who’d blended perfectly into any situation much the same way Scott seemed to. She knew that was what Scott was doing because no one could predict when he was bluffing or really holding a winning hand.

“Action.”

She watched him playing his game, the ultimate con man in his environment. His words played over and over in her head. Fifty thousand dollars—that was what she was worth to him. She wished that she could get back at him, do something he wouldn’t expect. Maybe run a con on him. Convince him she was falling for him. No one knew how to run a scam like a Montgomery.

And though she’d vowed to never again lie or betray anyone’s confidence, it somehow seemed right to her that she do it now. With this man. The one she’d hoped might be different.

“Camera Two, you’re out of focus. Camera One, pan the entire table like we discussed.”

Raine stopped thinking about Scott and focused instead on her job. If she went through with this scam, there was a good chance she’d be putting her job on the line. Joel wouldn’t forgive her if she broke his rules.

“And cut,” she said, as the hand was dealt to everyone.

“No one move. Latesha, there’s a shine coming off Stevie’s forehead. Move Camera One to the left of the table and get ready to resume play.”

The East Coast champ, Laurie Andrews, lifted her free hand. “I need a drink of water.”

One of the production assistants got her a bottle of Evian and then disappeared out of scene. Raine called action and finished shooting the hand.

So far Scott had fooled them every time. He didn’t have any of the “tells,” the little signs that the other players had.

She left her booth and went back on the floor to find Andy, her assistant director. He was talking to the NASCAR driver—probably about cars. Andy had a thing about fast cars that bordered on obsession.

She signaled to him that she needed a word and stood a little to the side of everyone else. Scott glanced up from the food table and caught her staring at him. He arched one eyebrow at her in a very arrogant way that made her want to do something really immature like kick his shins.

Her nature was contrary, so she couldn’t budge even when he pushed to his feet and sauntered over to her.

“Hey, honey.”

“Stop it right now. You’re not as charming as you think you are.”

“I know that,” Scott said with a grin that invited her to share his self-deprecating humor.

She tried to put herself in his shoes. If she’d had people of the opposite sex literally throwing themselves at her, she’d be the same way, right?

She shook her head and turned to walk away. But he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. His hand was big and strong, rough against her skin and totally at odds with his spoiled-rich-boy image.