Fool Me Once (8 page)

Within
a very short time, her pile of chips had grown considerably, and she looked at
it in surprise. She didn’t recall placing her bets. She gathered her winnings
and made her way to the wicket, converting her chips to Euros. En route to the
bar she paused at the baccarat table. Josh was dealing the cards smoothly, and
he looked up as she paused on the other side of the table. For a brief moment
their eyes locked, and the rest of the players in the casino ceased to exist.
The air between them seemed to sizzle with the intensity of his gaze before he
turned his attention to the plump woman on his right, dealing her two cards.
Watching his hands deal the cards, her throat went dry and she turned away,
shocked at the erotic nature of her thoughts.

Settling
into a comfortable chair at the bar, she ordered American coffee and a Remy.
She didn’t enjoy gambling…a fact she had taken great pains to hide when she
worked on her piece about European casinos. During the assignment, this had
always been her favorite time; watching the actions of the international crowd
who considered their vacation incomplete without a visit to the casino.

“Excuse
me, aren’t you Olivia MacMillan?” A tall, elegantly dressed Englishman stood by
her table, a tentative smile on his face. “I’ve been trying to figure out where
I’ve seen you before, and it finally registered. I’ve read your work in
WorldView.” Pale blue eyes smiled down at her. “May I join you for a few
moments? My luck seems to have deserted me this evening.”

Olivia
assessed him rapidly. Blonde hair contrasted pleasingly with a deep tan. This
was no office-bound businessman. If he was aware of her scrutiny, he gave no
indication. She indicated the chair opposite. “One can hardly refuse a
countryman.” She smiled warmly, extending her hand. “Please call me Olivia. And
you are?”

“Dirk
Grant.” He folded his lanky frame into the chair next to her, his eyes making a
quick sweep of the casino as he did so. “At the risk of sounding forward, are
you with someone?”

“Yes,
I am.” Olivia looked toward the baccarat table, but Josh was no longer in his
seat. “He’s playing poker in one of the private rooms.”

“Then
you could be in for a boring evening.”

“Not
at the moment.” Olivia grinned. “Actually I was sitting here thinking about how
much I enjoy people watching. I like to think one can tell a lot about people
by how they react to situations.” She paused. “I suppose that makes me a bit of
a voyeur, but in my business it’s important to watch for subtle signs.” She
picked up her coffee. “Enough about me. Are you here on vacation?”

He
leaned back in his chair and ordered a drink from a passing waiter. “It may
look that way, in fact I hope it does, but I’m actually studying the operation
of various casinos. A group of businessmen I know in Manchester have applied
for a gaming license and I’m here unofficially, seeing how they do things.” He
grinned. “After all, the Europeans have been doing it, and doing it well for a
good number of years.”

“In
that case, you must meet Gerard.” She twisted around in her seat, scanning the
gaming tables. “He runs this casino. I don’t see him right now, but I’d be
happy to introduce you.”

“No,
no, no.” He held out his hands, palms outward. “We’re keeping our plans quiet
until everything is in place. The partners wanted me to see the other
operations from the point of view of a customer. If I introduce myself, I’d
lose that opportunity.”

“Yes,
I can see how that would change things.” She turned back to him. “So what do
you do when you’re not checking out casinos?”

“I
have a small consulting firm. I do feasibility studies for new businesses.
Small hotels, restaurants and the like. It’s mostly demographics coupled with
economics.”

Olivia
tilted her head to one side, looking at him curiously. “You don’t look like a
numbers-cruncher to me.” She cupped the bowl of her brandy snifter, swirling
the liquid thoughtfully. “No, I would have pegged you as more of an outdoors
type. I don’t know, something to do with a sports team, or a surveyor, or an
estate manager.”

The
blue eyes crinkled. “Always the journalist. Speaking of which, tell me about
your visit to Afghanistan. That was a remarkable series of articles, by the
way.”

Olivia
warmed to the subject, relating in equal measure the hardships and the joys of
her recent assignment. Dirk encouraged her, asking insightful questions which
she was only too happy to answer.

The
last of her coffee was cold when she drained the cup. Glancing at her watch,
her eyes widened. “My goodness, it’s one thirty. I’ve been jabbering away for
well over an hour.” In truth, it had been enjoyable having such an attentive
audience. She stifled a yawn and shot him an apologetic glance. “Josh warned me
he might be late. I think I’ll go home without him.”

Dirk
stood up, offering his hand. “Allow me to accompany you. I’ll be getting a taxi
anyway. I can drop you off.”

He
assisted her to her feet, holding her hand for a fraction longer than was
necessary. “I’d appreciate that, thanks.” She looked toward the private gaming
area. “I wonder how he’s doing?” she murmured softly.

“Your
friend?”

“Yes.”
She glanced again toward the roped off area, unaware of the longing in her
voice. “I’m guessing I won’t be seeing him for a few hours yet.”

The
doorman secured a taxi and Dirk settled her in the back seat. Olivia gave directions,
and within minutes they were at the villa.

Dirk
jumped out and ran around to the other side, opening her door. “Thank you for
the company,” he said, offering her a hand. “I enjoyed hearing about your
adventures.”

“I
suppose I should apologize for boring you like that, but I don’t often have
such a good audience.” She smiled into his eyes. “Goodnight, Dirk.”

He
watched silently as she disappeared down a path lit by small garden lights, and
entered the house.

“That
Josh Morgan is one lucky bastard,” he growled to himself, getting back into the
taxi. “I hope he knows that.”

* * *

Olivia
slipped off her shoes and made her way through the silent house. Light fixtures
mounted low on the walls spilled pools of light on the tiled floors. In the
master bedroom, the huge king-sized bed had been turned down, pillows plumped
invitingly.

A
gentle breeze stirred the sheer curtains that hung loosely between the bedroom
and the balcony. Olivia stepped outside and inhaled the sweetly scented air.
She fingered the ring on her left hand, overwhelmed by a sense of unreality.
Here she was, in a breathtaking villa overlooking the Mediterranean and she was
alone. She shook her head sadly. Even if Josh were here, she would still be
alone. For hadn’t he made it clear that there would be no lasting involvement?
But then she didn’t want to become involved with him…did she? She looked down
at the large diamond and laughed, but it was a dry, mirthless sound. Was she
being honest with herself? Probably not. But one thing she did know for sure.
If she wanted to avoid a broken heart all she had to do was pack her suitcase
and go home. But that wouldn’t be fair to Josh. He’d made his position clear
from the outset, and she had agreed to The Rules as she now thought of them.
She gave a soft snort of derision. Everybody knew that even the strictest rules
were made to be broken.

* * *

Josh
gathered up his winnings and nodded to the remaining players. He stood up
slowly, aching from the long hours of concentration. On his ranch, he thrived
on long work days and little sleep. During roundup he could ride for hours
searching for strays and not feel this exhausted. He made his way into the
public area, deserted now in the early morning hours. Vacuums hummed as the
cleaning crew got ready for another day.

Outside,
the sky was suffused with a pale glow, heralding the imminent sunrise. Removing
his tie, he slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. He looked up and spotted
Dirk coming toward him. “How did it go?” the Englishman asked casually. “You
look beat.”

The
two men strolled along the broad esplanade. “I am, but I made an interesting
contact. Did you see the short heavyset man who left before me?”

The
SAS agent nodded. “He looked familiar. I snapped his picture.”

“Good.
I’m fairly sure I saw his face in the briefing file on the Czech syndicate. He
mentioned a couple of times that he’s meeting someone tomorrow. Seemed rather
anxious about it.” He scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “I need a
shave.”

“What
you need is a few hours of sleep.” Dirk clapped Josh on the shoulder. “Good
work. Oh, by the way, I met Olivia at the casino.” His eyes darted sideways.
“She’s quite a woman.”

Josh
nodded. “I’m just beginning to realize that, although I dread the day she finds
out why she’s really here.”

“I
know what you mean. In the meantime, let’s just concentrate on making contact
with Blazek.” He waved down a taxi. “Here’s a good sign. A taxi at this time of
the morning.”

Josh
sank thankfully into the back seat. Dirk leaned into the window. “Don’t be
surprised if you see me tonight.” He slapped the roof of the car and watched it
speed off just as the sun rose over the horizon, turning the sea into a sheet
of sparkling gold.

“Bonjour,
monsieur,” Martine called cheerfully as he entered the villa. “Can I bring you
un
café
this morning?”

Josh
slipped off his shoes and socks, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and undid
the top two buttons of his shirt. “That sounds wonderful, Martine.” Stretching
out on a lounge chair under the trellis, he fought the sudden lethargy that
threatened to pull him under, but by the time the Frenchwoman returned with his
coffee he was sound asleep, his hand trailing on the deck. With an
understanding shake of her head, she placed the coffee beside him and withdrew
silently.

* * *

Olivia
stretched luxuriously, awakened by the brilliant light. She was rested, hungry,
and surprisingly enough, she wasn’t missing work at all. After a quick shower,
she pulled on a bathing suit and tied a pareu around her slim hips. She ran
lightly down the stairs and came to a halt beside the pool.

Slumped
onto a chaise lounge, Josh lay with his head to one side, sound asleep. A cup
of coffee sat on the table at his side and she touched it, surprised to find
that it was still hot.

Very
quietly, she placed a chair beside the lounge and picked up his coffee as she
sat down. Sipping it slowly, she studied him. His beard had darkened overnight,
lending him a rakish, dangerous look. Fighting the sudden urge to reach out and
touch the stubble on his cheek, she clutched the coffee cup with both hands.

Even
sound asleep, his body appeared firm and hard. Dark chest hairs showed through
the open neck of his shirt, and a powerful awareness rippled through her body.
Her eyes roamed hungrily over his body, lingering on the muscled forearms. She
had a sudden picture of him repairing fences on his ranch, his body toned in a
way that couldn’t be duplicated by working out in a fitness club. With a soft
sigh she continued her inventory, noting the strength in his thighs, no doubt
from riding, and ending where his feet hung over the end of the lounge.

“Do
you see something you like?”

“Yes…
uh, no.” She was uncharacteristically flustered. “Don’t do that to me, Josh.
You frightened me.”

Swinging
his legs over the side of the lounge he shook his head. “I’m not the one
sneaking up on people while they’re sleeping.” His eyes were bemused. “Here,
give me a swig of that coffee.”

With
one long gulp he drained the cup, handing it back to her. “As you no doubt
gathered, the game went on until early this morning.”

“Was
it what you expected? Did you win?” Her words tumbled out, and she pulled back.
“Oops, I didn’t mean to be nosy. It’s the journalist in me, I suppose.”

He
managed a chuckle. “It was good. And yes, I managed to do rather well.” He
massaged the back of his neck with one hand. “I hate to admit it, but I’m out
of shape.”

Jumping
up, she patted the chair. “Sit here.”

“Why?”
He eyes the chair warily. “I don’t think I can make it that far.”

“Don’t
be a sissy.” She patted the chair again. “I’m going to give you a massage and
put you to bed.”

“I
think I’d prefer it the other way around,” he mumbled, easing into the chair
with an exaggerated sigh.

“In
your dreams.” She was thoroughly enjoying herself. “Would you like another
coffee?”

“Love
it. Someone drank mine.”

“I’ll
be right back. Take off your shirt.”

She
ran into the kitchen and asked Martine for two more coffees. Then she raced up
the stairs, returning with a bottle of suntan oil and a hand towel.

“Here
I am.” The words died in her throat, and she gave a quick prayer of thanks that
he was sitting with his back to her. Even at its most vivid, her imagination
hadn’t prepared her for the sight of his body. With trembling hands, she poured
some oil into her left palm, then rubbed her hands together briskly.