Hot Number (23 page)

She broke off as her throat pulled tight.

Cassie sighed. “Poor Sade. What a
rollercoaster ride you’ve had, and we’ve only been here four days.
What made it go bad tonight?”

Sadie had been pondering that question since
the second she slammed Nick’s front door and jumped into the cab.
There was the superficial answer— Nick had none too subtly told her
to stop playing blackjack. But the real answer lay in her
reaction.

She could have let his meddling slide. She
could have simply nodded her head in uncommitted fashion when he
advised her to take her winnings and quit. After all, they’d just
had great sex—no, Guinness Book of World Records sex—and she’d been
starting to think she and Nick had found something that might last
past the end of the week. But then they’d had that unsettling
conversation about her work and her family, a conversation that had
felt almost like an interrogation. Then he’d made it clear she was
the target of ongoing casino surveillance. That had been bad
enough, but when he admitted to being part of it, she hadn’t been
able to hold back the overwhelming sense of disappointment and even
betrayal.

And, unfortunately, rage.

“He tried to get me to stop playing
blackjack, Cass,” she said, the angry and defensive feelings rising
inside her again. “As if that wasn’t obnoxious enough, he let it
slip that the casino knew exactly how much I’ve been winning,
because they have me under surveillance. They’re watching every
move I make at the table. Every last stinking move. And Nick’s been
part of it.”

“You have got to be kidding!” Cassie’s eyes
popped wide with fury. Her reaction made Sadie feel a bit better.
“What the hell for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“He claimed it was because I’ve already won a
lot of money.” She bristled again as she thought of Nick’s blasé
declaration that such surveillance was somehow the norm in Vegas.
She found that very hard to believe. Maybe if a player was into the
casino for a hundred grand or more. But in her case it was only a
few thousand. While her winnings were substantial and important to
her, they constituted less than a drop in the bucket for a major
casino.

No, she was certain the Desert Oasis had put
her on their watch list because they suspected her of counting
cards. Nick would certainly have known that, and he’d lied about
it—at least by omission. Okay, maybe he could accuse her of doing
the same, but she was counting cards for fun and because it felt
good, not because she wanted to rob the casino blind.

Cassie frowned. “So, he’s saying they put
everybody who wins any kind of serious money under a
microscope?”

“It seems so.”

“Well, I find that pretty hard to
believe.”

“Me, too.”

“But why would Saxon say it if it wasn’t
true? Isn’t he taking a big risk by warning you that you’re being
watched? I bet the casino could fry his ass for that.”

Sadie shook her head. “He wasn’t trying to
warn me about the surveillance. When I asked him, he acted like it
was no big deal. Just standard operating procedure,” she said
bitterly.

That had really felt like a blade through the
chest. Nick
should
have warned her, especially once he’d
taken her to bed. To be fair, she understood that he’d get into
trouble if casino management found out he’d warned her. But what
was the probability of that happening? How would they even find
out? No, if he really cared about her, he would want to protect
her, not leave her hanging in the wind, unaware that security
operatives were tracking her every bet.

Cassie stared out for a few moments at the
dazzle of neon along the Strip before turning around to face Sadie.
“There’s no denying Saxon is smoking hot, Sade. But I had my
worries about him from the get-go. Remember? I didn’t like the way
he hauled you downstairs that first night, but you wouldn’t let me
go to bat for you.”

Sadie nodded. “Maybe I
should
have let
you have a go at him. I’ll tell you something, I’m sick to death of
other people trying to control my life.” She swallowed hard, trying
to calm herself down, but all the pent-up frustration and wounded
pride threatened to choke her. “I’ve let it happen all my life.
I’ve worked like a she-devil on steroids to make my father proud,
but I could never measure up. Then there was the Eagleton. You know
how many years I slaved to win that damn thing, even at the cost of
my only long-term relationship. And when I finally produced a paper
worthy of the prize, the stupid committee passed me over. Now, I
find something really fun, a little thing that makes me feel good
again, and the guy who should be watching my back is sharpening his
knife instead.”

That was the crux of it, really. Nick didn’t
care enough about her to try to protect her. What man in her life
ever had?

She threw one of the sofa cushions across the
room, not caring how immature she looked. “I’m tired of drowning in
bitterness and regret, Cass. Of just taking it and keeping quiet. I
came to Vegas to make changes. Well, one change I’m making is that
I’m not going to let myself be pushed around by a bunch of jackass
casino bullies. I’m not doing anything wrong, and I’m going to keep
playing. They can drag me away from the table and put me in
leg-irons if they want me to stop, but I’m not walking away.”

Cassie dashed across the room and gave her a
fierce hug. “You go, girl. To hell with them. And to hell with Nick
Saxon, too, if he won’t stand with you.”

Sadie returned the hug, suddenly feeling
drained of energy. “I’d drink to that, but I’m too tired to move.
Thanks, Cass. I think I’ll be okay now. I just had to get that off
my chest.”

After Cassie left, Sadie went through the
motions of preparing for bed. She was exhausted to the point of
dizziness, but her brain wouldn’t shift into neutral. Technically,
she knew the casino had every right to monitor her play and, if
necessary, throw her out onto the sidewalk for counting cards. Some
card counting teams had milked Vegas resorts for millions before
getting caught and tossed. Even though counting cards wasn’t
illegal, the casinos couldn’t tolerate cheaters or they’d be
inundated with them, and their profits would take a big hit.

But she wasn’t a professional card counter,
and Nick knew that. He had to. She was just a college professor on
vacation, one with a photographic memory and a gift for analysis.
Why shouldn’t she be able to use those talents to bring a small
measure of satisfaction into her life? It wasn’t like she was going
to bankrupt the Desert Oasis. In a few more days she’d be gone from
the Strip, with no plans to return any time soon. The casino would
survive Sadie Bligh, whose brief presence would be less memorable
than a flyspeck on the green felt of one of their tables.

She turned out the light in the bathroom and
crawled into bed, her mind still racing. Yes, she didn’t have any
immediate plans to return to Vegas, but maybe she shouldn’t be
giving any hostages to fortune with declarations about not coming
back. This crazy city had freed something inside her, though her
father and her colleagues at the university would surely not
agree.

Who was she kidding? They’d think she’d
had a psychotic breakdown
.

Back home, she’d been afraid to do anything
that might cause disapproval. Here in Vegas, she could do whatever
she wanted and not give a damn. She wouldn’t buckle under Nick
Saxon’s or anybody else’s pressure.

But as angry as she remained, her heart
contracted with pain when she thought of never seeing the sheriff
again. Never lying in his arms as he awakened her to a whole new
galaxy of sensations. Never talking to him again about the things
that mattered in his life. Never having a chance to—

“Stop it,” she muttered under her breath. It
was just a fling. Just another item to cross off her bucket list.
She had to keep thinking positively. Now that she’d opened herself
to the universe, maybe another Nick Saxon would come along.

Sadie rearranged her pillows and lay on her
back, staring at the ceiling.

Right. And maybe I’ll win the Nobel Prize,
too
.

* * *

Nick stared at his reflection in the bathroom
mirror. Did he look as lousy as he felt?

Oh, yeah.

Bloodshot eyes peered back at him, grim lines
scored the corners of his mouth, and his hair spiked out in a
hundred different directions. He’d fallen asleep—well, passed
out—on the sofa. So, to say his shirt looked like it had been slept
in was an understatement.

And then there was the goddamn torture device
that seemed to be drilling invisible screws into his temples.

It had been a while since he’d given himself
a brain-splitting hangover. Probably not since the last military
funeral he’d attended a year ago. He vaguely remembered finishing
the bottle of Shiraz that he and Sadie had started, and then
uncorking a second. Not that he particularly liked wine—in fact he
preferred beer and Scotch—but he’d kept enough of his wits about
him not to start mixing different kinds of alcohol. This morning,
he’d discovered the second wine bottle four-fifths empty.

Asshole.

He’d drunk himself into this heinous hangover
because he was pissed at Sadie, but he was even more pissed at
himself. He’d intended to take it slowly as he questioned her. He’d
had no intention of even hinting at an accusation. There would have
been plenty of time for that later, if and when he reached a
hundred per cent certainty that she was a counter. But he’d made
several uncharacteristic mistakes.

Then again, he’d never had to question a
suspect after having had his ashes totally hauled by that very
person. It was quite possibly the dumbest thing he could have done.
Questioning her, that is, not sleeping with her. Whatever happened
between them, he would never regret that. His only regret came from
so thoroughly screwing things up.

But hindsight was always twenty-twenty. It
hadn’t crossed his mind at the time that his common sense would go
AWOL when she stuck her hand down his pants. What the hell was it
about Sadie Bligh that kept knocking his internal gyroscope so far
off its axis? Still, there was no point in rehashing last night, or
in second-guessing himself for his mistakes. The stark reality was
that Buzz Carson had stuck him with the assignment of nailing Sadie
for counting cards. And if she really was counting, he’d have no
choice but to blacklist her. The prospect of telling her that made
his gut twist into knots, but his job was on the line.

Nick could always tell Carson to go to hell
and make him assign somebody else to do the dirty work. But if he
did that, he’d have to hand in his resignation letter at the same
time. And that couldn’t happen. Losing his job was not an option.
Not with what he had at stake.

As delicious and tempting as Sadie Bligh was,
if things played out as badly as he suspected they might, he could
get over her. He’d have to, for his mother’s sake.

“I’m ready for more
Skin
,” Sadie
announced into her hotel room phone.

“I’m assuming you mean the pool,” Cassie
said, her voice thick with sleep. “Aren’t you up a bit early, all
things considered? It’s barely ten o’clock. I was dead to the world
when you so rudely woke me up.”

“Sorry, Cass. I couldn’t sleep. I gave up at
six and ordered room service.”

“All right, I forgive you.
Skin?
Well,
you can count me in for that, sweetie. I’m always up for an
afternoon at the pool.” Cassie gave a noisy, waking-up yawn.

“Anytime you’re ready, then.”

“Sadie, I’m barely awake. And I’m a little
surprised you don’t want to spend the day at the blackjack tables
again. Especially after what you said last night.”

In the unforgiving light of day, last night
seemed little more than a confusing emotional mess. Sadie’s
volcanic anger had subsided not long after Cassie departed for bed,
leaving only a hollow pain in its wake. As the hours ticked by,
guilt had crept in, and the sneaking suspicion that she’d
overreacted. While she could still think of many creative ways to
torture Nick for being such a jerk, the thought of not seeing him
again left her fighting a depressing emptiness that felt all too
familiar. After working her way through two carafes of room service
coffee, she’d come to the decision that she had to face the
situation head-on or go crazy. That meant swallowing her pride and
asking Nick to meet her tonight to have it out with him—one way or
the other.

“Sadie, honey? Are you still there?”

“Sorry. I think I’ll take the afternoon off
and play this evening. Anyway, we’ve still got four days. That’s
ample time to clean out the casino.” She forced a laugh, trying to
sound lighthearted for Cassie’s sake. But inside there was nothing
that reflected the laughter. She felt adrift, cut loose from all
her moorings, both old and new. Chicago Sadie, university professor
and nerd, seemed to have been relegated to ancient history. Las
Vegas Sadie felt like she’d just crashed and burned in a
spectacular fireball.

Yesterday, she’d been higher than the
Stratosphere Tower. She’d proved to herself that she could beat the
house at blackjack. Even better, she’d started to believe she was a
woman that a man like Nick Saxon could actually find desirable. But
then, in a fit of anger, she’d self-immolated.

Sure, it was a righteous fit of anger. Nick
may not have lied—at least not directly—but he sure hadn’t told her
the whole truth, either.

Then again, she hadn’t exactly been straight
with him, had she?

Cassie sighed, again breaking the brief
silence. “Sade, knowing you, I doubt you’re going to leave town
until you figure out what it is you want, and I’d be willing to bet
Sheriff Studly isn’t out of the picture yet, either. But it’s your
life, honey. Why don’t we have lunch around noon, and then hit the
pool. Sound good?”