Love in the Cards (Whole Lotta Love #1) (3 page)

Maggie bit her lip trying not to laugh. Dear God, the man was a walking spilled-drink-magnet.

“
Sheeeeit
.” He stared in disgust down at his shirt, waving away the napkins several helpful people were thrusting at him. “They ain’t gonna help. This shirt’s toast. I always liked it too. It brought me luck.” He sighed.

“Is it working?” Maggie lifted an eyebrow.

“Don’t know yet. From the looks of things the only thing getting wet is me.”

“Wanna bet?” Maggie blushed as she realized she’d said that out loud.
Whoops.
“You’d better go change. And soak that thing. Maybe the stains will come out.” It had been fun and she regretted ending the evening on such a damp note.

Deuce lifted his head and looked at her. “I don’t want to leave you here alone…”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I probably won’t stay long anyway.” She saw the expression in his eyes turn hot and wondered what was coming next.

“I have an idea. You like to gamble, right?”

“Um…yes?”

“Okay. Here’s the bet.” He rummaged in his pocket for a quarter, produced it with a flourish and wiped it clean of beer gunk, slapping it down on a small table. ”Toss of the coin. Heads, I go change and you go wherever it is you’re planning on going.”

“And tails?”

Deuce smiled. That particularly nice, I-think-my-panties-are-going-to-get-seriously-wet-if-he-keeps-that-up smile. “Tails—you come to my room with me while I change.”

Maggie stared at him and then at the quarter. She was no fool and knew damn well where this could lead. And she also quietly admitted to herself she wouldn’t mind. Not one bit.

It would be strictly an act of random fate. Her sex life for the next few hours would totally dependent on the flip of a coin. She grinned. The odds were a shitload better than the ones she’d been working with lately. What had she got to lose?

Or, more accurately, what had she got to gain? She looked at Deuce. He was really cute. He had a fabulous smile, he smelled good when he wasn’t wearing alcohol as a cologne and that sure wasn’t a stack of poker chips making a nice bulge in the front of his jeans.

Hell, yeah.
“You’re on.”

Deuce picked up the quarter and sent it spinning into the air.

~~~~~

The elevator doors slid quietly shut, enclosing Maggie and Deuce in their own private sanctuary. It was quiet, just the two of them, the sounds of the casino replaced by some soft unidentifiable music and the sounds of their breathing.

Deuce rocked a little, from his heels to his toes, and started to whistle along with the song. The tension in the enclosed space seemed to grow as did something she felt could well be desire. She’d have rocked herself if she’d thought of it, but settled for nervously running her hand up and down her purse strap. The movement did nothing to ease her growing arousal.

Her heart pounded, a pulse in her throat hammering as she watched the numbers above the door increase and felt the little tin box they were sharing lift up through the building to its destination—Deuce’s floor.

She swallowed and moved slightly. “Deuce—”

“Look, I—”

They both broke off, paused and tried again, only to speak on top of each other.

Maggie laughed. “Sorry, you first.”

“No, you go ahead.” Deuce’s lips were curved into a grin. “Ladies first.”

Maggie took a breath. “I just wanted to say—um, how
do
I say this?” She fought for the right words. “I don’t—I’m not—”

“Hey.” Deuce leaned over and raised his hand, putting one finger beneath her chin and turning her head so that he could look into her eyes. “Having second thoughts?”

He was gentle, his touch warm, his smile friendly. Maggie watched his face, her gaze returning to his eyes as they rested on her. He was watching
her
, her expressions, not roaming over her body as if he’d already stripped her naked. It was comforting and reassuring.

“No, no second thoughts.” That was true. Deuce had walked into a little place inside Maggie’s head and made himself at home. She liked having him there. “It’s just that I don’t want you thinking I’m some kind of—of—
party
girl.” Her shoulders shifted a little. “I don’t do things like this. Meet a man and then go to his room with him, all in one evening. Hell, I’m not even dating anyone right now.”

She closed her eyes against the heat she could see rising in his. “I’m not a woman who hooks up at the drop of a martini, Deuce. I like you. I enjoy being with you and if we go ahead with this, explore this together, I think it’ll be fun. But basically I’m just a regular gal who’s being kinda crazy tonight.” She lifted her eyelids and found him even closer, his finger still beneath her chin, gently stroking the soft skin he found there.

“You think I don’t know that?” He lifted his arm and slowly encircled her, pulling her against him, neatly avoiding the wet patch on his shirt. “This isn’t like me either. I may act all macho and confident but inside I’m nervous just like you. In everyday life, I’m a monk.”

“Huh?”

“Okay, I’m not a monk. They have to get up too early, shave their hair and the outfits look like they itch. Too much of a sausage-fest with all those guys anyway.” His hand slid to cup her cheek. “I’m a Sunday school teacher.”

Maggie blinked. “You are
so
not.”

“Hmm…dammit, you found me out. I’m a god of sensual pleasure banished to Earth for making the other gods jealous.”

That was greeted by an amused snort.

Deuce grinned. “Would you believe I’m a porn star? Perhaps you heard of my film name, Mr. Tripod?”

“Uhh—nope.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hell. No fooling you, is there?” His fingers moved softly upward, tangling in her hair. “I’m a famous hair stylist with salons across Nevada.”

Maggie laughed aloud.

“You have very nice hair, by the way. A few split ends here and there, but nothing a good deep conditioning wouldn’t solve.” He paused, then put his hand on his hip. “Come to think of it, my personal assistant Bruce would be heartbroken if he could see me now. I may have forgotten to mention it—but I’m
gay
.”

The elevator doors slid open at that inopportune moment, allowing the two older ladies waiting outside to overhear Deuce’s comment.

One woman’s mouth pursed into a pout. “I always knew the good ones were either married or gay. Didn’t I
tell
you, Rhonda?” She dug her companion in the ribs with her elbow.

“What a shame.” Rhonda lowered her glasses and peeked at Deuce.

Maggie sputtered as Deuce grabbed her arm and led her out into the corridor. She glanced back over her shoulder at the women stepping into the elevator. “He’s not gay. Not the way he
kisses
.” She winked.

“Go get him, girlie. Even if he is, I reckon you can change his mind.”

Deuce hurried her away as the doors slid shut. “Hmm. I’m gonna have to give
that
one some thought.”

Chapter Three

He slid the card key into the slot, waiting for it to turn green, all the while aware of Maggie standing behind him. His shirt stuck to his chest, his jeans were uncomfortably tight and Deuce swore beneath his breath as the damned lock refused to work.

“Goddamn stupid piece of—”

“Oh for chrissake, here…let me do it.” She wrenched the card from his hand, slid it downward and clicked the door open. Then smirked.

Deuce narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say a word. Not a frickin’ word, okay?”

Silent as the grave, Maggie strolled into the room. Her eyes danced with mirth, but wisely she kept her mouth shut.

He let the door slam closed behind him and grabbed a fresh shirt and jeans from the closet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.” She walked over to the small table in the generic hotel room and idly picked up the deck of cards that sat next to the water glass and the telephone notepad. As Deuce headed into the bathroom he saw her lay out a hand of solitaire.

Damned if she was gonna play alone tonight. But he
would
take his time. He liked to take his time…he’d explore her slowly, get her all hot and bothered and then make her shiver and shudder on the brink until he was ready to let her come.

Hell yeah.

Stripping off his sodden shirt, he acknowledged the truth. Maggie was a real
babe
. “I hope I have better luck with her slot. Hey, I just made a joke. What do you think, Simba?” Deuce looked down at his cock. The king of the jungle was getting ready for some exercise. Maybe it knew it had needed a rest before work.

He took the quickest shower on record and was out of the bathroom, clean and freshly dressed, in seconds flat. Nice thing about hotels—no need to hang up the towels afterward.

Running his hands quickly through his damp hair Deuce opened the small fridge. “I have some wine in here…want a glass?”
Perhaps I could pour it over your naked flesh and sip its bounty from your valleys. I’m talking to myself again. I need to stop this.

“Sure. That’d be nice.” She leaned back in the chair, looking so damned good, Deuce nearly jumped her right then and there.
Easy, Simba, keep your cool.

He poured two glasses of the white wine, grimacing at the utilitarian tooth mugs provided. Oh well. It all went down the same way.
God, I hope she does.
“Sorry about the lack of fine glassware. You mind drinking from a sippy-cup?”

“Excuse me?” She looked at the cheap glasses Deuce was holding, and then chuckled. “No problem. I have the same trouble myself. All hotel rooms are the same.” She sipped. “Mmm. Nice.”

Deuce glanced at the cards spread neatly over the table. “So you like cards.”

“Duh. This is a
gambling
casino, you know. I wouldn’t be here if I had a thing for petunias, now, would I?” Maggie rolled her eyes.

Deuce raised an eyebrow. “Well, you could be a slot machine fan, I guess. How are you at poker?”

She blinked. “I’ve played some now and again.”

“Any good?”

A wicked grin crossed her face. “Haven’t had any complaints.”

“Hmm. Wanna try a couple of hands? I’ve played a bit too.” And wasn’t
that
the truth.

Maggie hesitated, just a second too long for Deuce’s comfort. “Well, I don’t know. You’re probably
much
better than me.”

He looked at her. Goddamn, she was playing
him.
He smiled. She was in for one helluva surprise. “Just for fun…no money involved.” He reached for the cards and clumsily gathered them into a pile. No point in giving the game away just yet.

“But…we’re supposed to bet something, aren’t we?” Her innocent expression could have sold crushed ice to Eskimos.

“Well, usually, yeah. Lemme think here…” Deuce managed a thoughtful frown of his own while stroking his chin. Shit, he was really laying it on thick. And it looked like she was buying it too.

“Oh, wait—I have an idea.” She reached up for her small earrings. “There.” She laid them on the table. “Will that do for an ante?”

Deuce found himself repeating his earlier thoughts.
Hell yeah.

~~~~~

“Five card stud?”

Stud? Oh yeah, you sure are
. Maggie wrenched her mind out of his crotch and nodded at Deuce who dealt the cards with surprising ease. “That sounds fine. You’ll have to help me out though. I’m not sure I remember the rules.” He’d certainly played more than “a bit”.

She reached out tentatively and picked up the hand, sorting it like a bridge player, gnawing on her lip as she concentrated. Something she’d never do in a
real
game.

He tossed in his watch. “I’m in.”

She glanced up at him. “Okay. I’d like two cards, please.” She politely discarded two inoffensive clubs face down. Deuce reached for the deck. “And I’ll raise…um…” She thought for a moment, letting the silence play out between them. Damn. This was fun. She’d never, in all her life, played strip poker before.

A shoe appeared on the table. “I raise you one shoe.”

Deuce frowned at his cards. “You do, huh? I don’t have stilettos so I guess—” He looked down at his own feet and tugged off one sock. “There’s your shoe.” He dealt her the two replacement cards. “And the dealer takes three.”

There was quiet for a moment as both players looked at their hands.

Maggie was content. She had a good hand, with two pairs—nines and sevens. But she continued to look worried. “Oooh. I’m not sure…” A little giggle bubbled in her throat and she coughed to cover it. “Oh all right. I’m good for the other shoe and…er… my socks too.”

“Confident, are we?” Deuce grinned. “I’ll call.”

He stripped off his shirt and treated Maggie to a glimpse of a very nice chest. A very nice chest indeed. Not too muscled or too flat, it curved in all the right places. For once, she was seriously distracted from the poker game, admiring the soft whorls of dark hair dappling his pecs and narrowing to a happy trail plunging south of the border. She’d very much like a trip to Tijuana shortly and hoped it was on the agenda.

“You show me yours now.” His voice diverted her errant thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Your cards,” said Deuce. “This is where I get to see your cards—you get to see mine and we figure out who won.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” She dragged her gaze away from his body and spread out her cards. Two sevens and two nines. “Is this any good?”
Eat my dust, cute chest.

“Ooooh. Nice. A matching pair.” Deuce’s eyes weren’t on her cards, but her shirt. “And a nice hand of cards as well.”

She ignored him. Well, almost ignored him. Pretty much as well as she ignored the tingle of excitement that was jolting her pussy as strongly as an intimate encounter with an electric eel.

He fanned his own cards out in front of her. “Three ladies. Three queens beat two pair. No matter how lovely the pair is.” Deuce swallowed, looking up from her chest and obviously struggling for composure.

Maggie hid her shock.
Goddamn it
. He’d
won
. He was putting his shirt back on and leaving her barefoot, tossing her shoes and socks away under the table someplace. She gritted her teeth, forced a smile and smacked herself mentally upside the ear. “Well, goodness. Somebody’s lucky.”