Text Appeal (4 page)

“It was nice,” she murmured.

Stop thinking about Charlie!
Maybe she was thinking about him because they had the same name: Charles. Charles Singleton and Charles Spencer—if her brain linked
them, that
was perfectly understandable, nothing to feel guilty about.

Chaz
also looked a little like Charlie. They were both tall with dark hair and nice builds. She smiled at
Chaz
and gave him an appraising look. His body was good. It was...fine. But he looked about as much like Charlie as a veggie burger looked like the real, juicy thing. Sure, there were similarities, and at a quick glance one could be mistaken for the other. But the truth was, each promised an entirely different kind of experience.

“You keep looking at me like that and I won’t make it home tonight,”
Chaz
said with a smile.

“I’m just thinking about how much I enjoy being with you.”

He leaned in for a kiss and she tilted her chin up and opened her mouth to him.

She wished his hint that he might stay over stirred something more in her. The truth was
,
Chaz
wasn’t a very exciting lover. He was practical and didn’t stray off course. He was...efficient.

Charlie Singleton might make a girl wonder what he would do with his mouth, but this was
Chaz
.
Chaz
was kind. Honest. The kind of man you could be proud of. The kind of man you marry and want to father your children. He was successful and stable and . . .

He put his thumb under her chin and slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting of mineral water and juicy fruit, and Riley thought,
He’s lower in cholesterol
.

She giggled against his lips.

Chaz
pulled away and frowned.
“Something wrong?”

She bit her lip, trying to stop the laughter bubbling there, but it just kept spilling out. “My mind is somewhere else.”

“Well, then.”

Crap, now he was scowling. She was pretty sure making her date scowl at the door was not the way to add the spice she was looking for.

“Listen, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, but neither his tense shoulders nor his telling glance at his watch had her convinced.

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry. Why don’t you come in?” She opened the door but was too embarrassed to take her eyes off the floor.

Chaz
cleared his throat.
“Um, Riley?”

“What?” She followed his gaze to the couch . . . where her new leather bustier was nicely displayed.
“Oh, my God!”
Her hand flew to her mouth. She had totally forgotten she’d left it there! What would
Chaz
think?

Behind her, he made an
umphing
sound she wasn’t sure was good or bad. “Is that your roommate’s?” he asked. “Of course it is. You wouldn’t waste money on something so frivolous.”

“Um.”
She spun around to face him. She had to think fast—but he was looking at his watch.

He smiled but it was forced. “Listen, I should go. I have an early meeting tomorrow. I’ll send you a text though, okay?”

It was Riley’s turn to force a smile.
“Right.
Okay, that’d be nice.”

Chaz
pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

And as she walked him out, she couldn’t help but think
I bet Charlie Singleton didn’t end a date with his girlfriend with a kiss against her cheek.

Chapter Three

Charlie studied the faces of the players around him. These were amateurs, cocky sons a’ bitches who thought they could plop down at a Vegas poker table and take home a load of crisp new bills. Charlie wasn’t interested in their money and carefully planned his strategy so he would win some, lose some, and walk away even-steven. He just needed some time with the game to stay loose for the tournament.

Located in a VIP private box, their game overlooked the stage where the illustrious Black Diamond dancers performed. The guy across from him signaled for another beer, and Charlie rolled his eyes. Too much alcohol could destroy the game of even the most experienced player, and yet when guys like this one wanted to “act like a pro,” they drank too much and generally loosed up on all their good sense. Then again, people didn’t come to the Black Diamond to practice self-restraint.

Charlie was lucky. Since he was fifteen, he’d had a talent for the game matched only by his passion for it. His and Lacey’s dad had never been around, but a neighbor in the subsidized housing where he grew up had taught Charlie everything he knew about the game. He’d taught him how to deal.
How to bluff.
How to use deductive thinking to get a pretty good guess at what the other players were holding.
But most importantly, Walter had taught him how to have fun without losing everything.

Charlie could still remember when Walter had first brought him into the casinos. Charlie had been fifteen—too young to cross the red ropes, but old enough to understand what Walter had been talking about when he spotted the hungry greed in people’s eyes. The message had gone through loud and clear, and Charlie had never gambled a penny he wouldn’t be happy to lose.

Did Angela’s son—the paperwork named him
Tony
—
have
a Walter in his life?
Someone to teach him right from wrong?
A man who taught him what it meant to be a man? Charlie hoped so, but if Angela was looking to him for that, she was setting herself up for disappointment.

A high school dropout and a man the media made out to be a
womanizer,
Charlie would be a pathetic excuse for a role model. Hell, he’d managed to make a nice career for himself through the less-than-respectable path of professional poker, but even that was fading.

Charlie turned at a tap on his shoulder. A svelte blonde smiled down at him.
“This seat taken?”

“Not that I know of.”

She sat and scooted her chair toward Charlie so the outside of their legs touched. “You don’t mind me taking your money, do you?”

“It’s a personal code of mine to only lose to the most beautiful women,” Charlie admitted.

“So, you come here a lot?” she asked. She chomped a piece of gum and winked at the dealer as he passed out their cards.

Charlie tossed a glance to the stage where two exotic dancers did a little bump and grind against each other. “No,” he admitted. “This is my first time.”

“The Black Diamond isn’t just a strip club,
ya
know.”

Charlie raised a brow.

“It’s some of the best damn poker in Vegas.
These guys—” she gestured to the men around the table “—some of the best amateurs around.”

“Hear! Hear!” a man barked from the other side of the table.

“So you’re a regular?”

The smile dropped from the woman’s face. The man next to her tipped his cowboy hat to cover his features but it didn’t cover his chuckle.

“Do you know the guy who runs this place?” Charlie asked her.

Another chuckle from the cowboy.
Charlie spared him a glance but returned his attention to the woman.

“You could say that.” She turned her attention to her cards, indicating the conversation was over.

“When could I find him here do you think?”

“Why? Spencer
owe
you money?” the cowboy asked.

“Not exactly,” Charlie said cautiously.

“
He
sleep with your girlfriend?” the guy across the table offered.

Charlie lowered his voice so only the blonde could hear. “Sounds like he doesn’t have the best reputation,” he murmured.

“Don’t believe everything these hacks tell you,” she said softly.

Charlie nodded, understanding when to push and when to pull back. It was a skill that came from years of razzing guys at the poker table.

Charlie finished the hand,
then
folded the next early. He slipped a few chips to the dealer before standing. He’d only just turned away when the blonde grabbed him.

Charlie dropped his gaze to where her long, manicured fingers had shackled his wrist. Her bare arms were thin and bronzed. He knew her type—looking for a sugar Daddy at a poker table. He didn’t have the heart to tell her she was going about it all wrong. The men here didn’t want to take care of her. They wanted to screw her and go home. There was a time he would have wanted to as well. “Can I help you?” he asked.

She dropped her chin and looked up at him so she was looking through her lashes. “I know who you are,” she whispered. “You were pulling your punches with this bunch, weren’t you?”

“That’s a flattering assumption.” He gave her the signature Charlie ‘The Devil’ Singleton smile. He could take her back to his suite, but why bother? She’d just want him to play the part of the womanizing bad boy when he’d much rather be himself. The idea of how the night would play out bored him, had him as weary as a dull, thudding headache. “Good night.”

He headed up toward the exit, not bothering to cash in his chips. He’d use the same pile tomorrow.

As he worked his way through the crowd toward the exit, he tossed a final glance over his shoulder. On the stage, a woman wearing a black thong and pasties wrapped her body around a pole. Men from the edges of the stage reached their hands in her direction, greedy for the opportunity to tuck a bill in her g-string.

Charlie took a cab back to his hotel, where he was flexing his bank account for two weeks in a high roller penthouse suite. Charlie would have as soon stayed in one of Grand Escape’s basic rooms, but his agent had insisted that part of Charlie’s image control must be continuing to live as he had before. Sponsors didn’t want to put their name on some washed-up, old-news player, so Charlie had to do everything in his power to maintain the image of the carefree bad boy he’d been for so many years.

When he arrived at the hotel, Charlie handed the driver his fare and a generous tip. He nodded to the doorman and winked at the girl behind the front desk. Everyone at Grand Escape knew him and treated him like a VIP, and he did his best never to let on how uncomfortable that made him. He hadn’t gotten into poker to get rich; he’d started playing because it was the only thing he was good at.

Charlie used his room card to get the elevator to his floor. When he got to his suite, he pulled out his laptop and opened the video of one of his competitors at his last tournament. The guy was a wiz with the cards, and Charlie had yet to discover any tells. He didn’t even fidget.

But when the video came on the screen, Charlie couldn’t focus. His mind kept drifting back to the possibility of being a father. Charlie had wasted too many years filled with bitterness toward a father he’d never known. Had his child felt the same way? Was the kid even his?

He’d never had unprotected sex. His mother had taught him right. But even diligent use of condoms didn’t guarantee a thing.

He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Until he had answers, thinking about it was just a mind-fuck. He needed to think about something else.

His mind instantly landed on Riley. There was something he didn’t want to get out of his mind. Not her or that fucking sexy get-up he’d bought her. He imagined her dark hair swishing against the pale skin of her back as he helped her lace up the leather corset. He just wanted to sit in a room and watch her walk around in snug
leather,
her breasts pressed high, her ass exposed in the thong.