Heartless Rebel (27 page)

 
          
It
hit him then that he was just like Jacob. That when he’d encountered something
he couldn’t handle, he’d run away from it. Emotionally, he was a coward. He’d
castigated Jacob for leaving, and yet he’d left, too. He’d left the only woman
he’d ever loved because he feared what loving her would mean.

 
          
He
hadn’t left her physically, but he’d pushed her away. Because he’d been
determined not to fall in love with her, not to need her on an emotional level
because needing meant vulnerability.

 
          
But
the joke was on him because he did need her. Hell, he loved her! He’d been able
to mask the emotional truth behind the physical, to convince himself that’s all
it was, but the truth was shining down on him now with the force of a thousand
brilliant suns.

 
          
He
couldn’t hide from that kind of illumination. He couldn’t escape it, even if he
wanted to. Jack shoved up from the booth and tossed a couple of notes on the
table. He didn’t want to escape the truth. He wasn’t running away ever again.

 
          
New
Orleans was far muggier than London had been. Cara hopped from the streetcar
and walked the block to work. She’d only been home two weeks, but she’d managed
to get a job in the casino. If Bobby had been planning to blacklist her, he
must not have gotten around to it yet. She’d fully expected, when she’d
applied, that she would never get a call back.

 
          
Instead,
the manager had called her a few days later and asked when she could start.
Tonight was her fifth night, and though it wasn’t as exciting as Nice had been,
she was happy enough. She was through with adventures for the time being.

 
          
Mama,
Evie and Remy were fine, and the money she’d brought home had done so much
good. She hadn’t intended to take a dime of Jack’s money after what had
happened between them, but when she’d gotten home and seen Remy’s sweet face,
she’d known it was the right thing to do.

 
          
She
hadn’t even had to ask Jack for it. While she’d been on her way home, he’d
deposited over seventy thousand dollars into her account. It was far more than
their agreement, and even though the money was welcome, she’d already withdrawn
the overpayment plus two thousand dollars for her clothing, and sent it back to
him.

 
          
She
would take what he owed her, for her family’s future, but she wouldn’t accept a
penny more.

 
          
Cara
paused to look at the palm trees lining the street. They made her think of
Nice, and thinking of Nice made her remember that first night she’d met Jack.
He’d been so vibrant, so much larger than life. He’d made the other men at the
table pale in comparison. She’d recognized her attraction to him, but she
hadn’t recognized the danger he represented to her heart.

 
          
That
had taken a little longer.

 
          
Cara
went into the employee area and put her things away. She had to stop thinking
about Jack Wolfe. He was out of her life, and it was better that way.

 
          
She
stopped in the ladies’ bathroom to check her makeup and hair before going onto
the floor. The eyes looking back at her in the mirror were so forlorn.

 
          
“Stop
it,” she said to her reflection. “He’s gone. He didn’t love you and the sooner
you stop loving him, the better.”

 
          
“Amen,
girlfriend.”

 
          
Cara
turned as Jeannie LaSalle emerged from one of the stalls.

 
          
“I
didn’t know anyone was here,” Cara said.

 
          
Jeannie
shrugged. “Sorry. But I had to reply.” She washed her hands and dug out her
lipstick from her purse. “You can’t let a man ruin your day, honey. There’s
always another one around the corner. What you gotta do once you get thrown
from the horse is get right back on again.”

 
          
“I
don’t think I’m ready for that.”

 
          
Jeannie
pursed her red lips as she patted her bleached blond hair. “The first time is
the hardest. You just gotta do it. Trust me, you’ll feel much better.”

 
          
Cara
didn’t really think so, but once she was at her table, dealing to the players,
she got mad that Jack was occupying so many of her thoughts. Did he think of
her so frequently?

 
          
Cara
snorted. He probably didn’t think of her at all. He’d probably called Sherry
the ex the moment Cara was gone and even now was rolling around in bed with
her. Entwined in her arms. Kissing her, thrusting into her body—
Stop
.

 
          
“So
what are you doing after you get off work tonight?”

 
          
Cara
jerked her attention to the man sitting to her right. He was holding his cards
lazily, his mouth cocked in a confident grin, his blue eyes intense as they
stared at her. She swallowed.

 
          
“Going
home,” she said.

 
          
He
shrugged. “Maybe we could get a drink.”

 
          
“I
don’t—” She cleared her throat. Get back on the horse, right?
Oh, God
. “Maybe.”

 
          
His
grin turned megawatt. He wasn’t unattractive. In fact, he was downright cute
with his tousled sandy-blond hair, high cheekbones and blindingly white teeth.

 
          
But
her heart ached at the thought of spending time with any man who wasn’t Jack.

 
          
Damn
him. He was
not
going to control her
life now that he was no longer in it.

 
          
“Are
you from around here?” she asked, forcing herself to smile as she did so.

 
          
“Texas,”
he said. “You?”

 
          
“Born
and raised.” She dealt another hand.

 
          
“Name’s
Rand,” he said, leaning to the side to check her out. He grinned at her again.

 
          
“Cara,”
she forced out, her heart pounding a million miles an hour. She could do this,
she really could. It was just banter. A drink, maybe. Nothing else. Talking to
this man didn’t mean she was going home with him.

 
          
“I’ve
about decided that Louisiana girls are the prettiest,” Rand said.

 
          
“Aren’t
you sweet,” she managed to say without rolling her eyes.

 
          
The
hand ended and Cara collected the cards.

 
          
“Maybe
we can turn that drink into dinner,” Rand said.

 
          
“Maybe.”

 
          
“She’s
not going to dinner with you,” a voice growled.

 
          
Cara’s
head snapped up. She blinked at the man standing on the other side of the
table. He was tall, menacing—and so damn handsome he broke her heart.

 
          
Rand
was looking at Jack like he’d just taken away a lollipop. “I think she can
decide for herself,” Rand said. “Isn’t that right, Cara?”

 
          
Oh, God
.

 
          
She
swallowed. Jack arched an eyebrow as he stared at her, his silver eyes
glittering with heat and anger.

 
          
A
rush of hot emotion flooded her, followed by a quickening current of doubt.
Why
was he here? Was this some kind of
joke?

 
          
“I
haven’t decided what I’m doing later,” Cara said, her eyes never leaving
Jack’s. “I have no commitments.”

 
          
She
emphasized the word
commitments
.

 
          
Jack
pulled a chair out and sat down. “Tell you what,” he said to Rand, his gaze
still not leaving hers, “I’ll play you for her.”

 
          
Cara
sputtered. Rand grinned. “All right, dude,” he said. “But I hope you don’t mind
losing.”

 
          
Cara
smacked the cards onto the table. “Gentlemen, your stakes are your casino
chips. There are no other bets permitted.”

 
          
Jack
shrugged. “Fine. Whoever has the most chips gets to stay at this table. The
loser disappears.”

 
          
“Sounds
fair,” Rand agreed.

 
          
Fury
bubbled in her veins, but she dealt the cards. One hand turned into two. Two
turned into four. On the fifth hand, Jack laid down his cards with that
infuriating blankness she’d come to expect out of him. Rand had no idea what
was about to hit him.

 
          
“Four
of a kind. The gentleman wins,” she pronounced.

 
          
Rand
whistled. Then he put his hand out and shook Jack’s. “No hard feelings, buddy.
Good luck.”

 
          
She
watched Rand go, stunned at how easily he accepted the loss. He’d be at another
table in moments, flirting with another dealer. And he’d probably get that
drink, and dinner, and a whole lot more besides.

 
          
She
felt like an idiot. And she felt hot and angry and achy all at once. The man
across the table from her seemed so calm and all she wanted to do was wrap her
hands around his neck and choke him.

 
          
And
then she wanted to kiss the living daylights out of him.

 
          
“What
are you doing here?” she asked, tossing the cards out in rapid succession.
There were no other players at her table. She wondered if he’d somehow arranged
that, too.

 
          
Jack
picked up the cards. “Gambling.”

 
          
“I
can see that,” she said crisply. “Why are you gambling, and why are you doing
it in New Orleans?”

 
          
He
folded the hand and met her even stare. “Because you’re here.”

 
          
Cara
fumed. “Wonderful. Now why don’t you go away and leave me alone?”

 
          
“I
can’t.”

 
          
Her
heart was never going to survive this. It thundered out of control. Her skin
was so hot that she wished she could unbutton her white shirt and fan herself.
The only way she was getting back to normal was if he left. “I want you to go,
Jack.”

 
          
“And
I want to talk to you.”

 
          
“You
had your chance. What could you possibly want to say now?”

 
          
He
looked out over the casino. The bells of the slots were ringing, people were
talking and laughing, and the air, though cooled by massive air-conditioning
units, felt heavy. She waited helplessly, because she couldn’t storm away if
she wanted to keep her job. He had her trapped, and no doubt he knew it.

 
          
His
gaze settled on her again. “I have a lot to say. But I don’t want to do it
here.”

 
          
A
couple walked over and asked if they could join the game. Cara smiled and did
her job, though her emotions were in turmoil. Jack stayed at the table for the
next hour. When he finally got up and left, she breathed a sigh of relief. She
didn’t know why he was here. Two weeks ago, he’d let her walk out as if he
didn’t care that she was leaving. As if he could replace her in his bed as
easily as walking into a store and buying a new shirt.

 
          
Which,
she’d decided, he probably could.