The One Who Got Away (4 page)

When he'd downed about half his breakfast, he smiled at her. “So talk to me.”

“What?”

“Talk. Tell me about your life in the city by the bay.”

That caught her by surprise. She had to reshuffle the deck in her head, pull out the cards she wanted to play. “I like my job,” she said. “I'd thought about going back to school, getting my law degree, but honestly, I don't want the headaches. I like the research
a lot, which I didn't expect. I work for a major law firm. They pay me well to look up the right statutes, dig on the Internet. I imagine in that way, our jobs are similar.”

“Sounds like it. You hang out with attorneys?”

“Not if I can help it. I have a small but eclectic group of friends. I play pool on Thursday nights.”

His brows rose. “No kidding?”

She grinned. “We got the league championship last year, and we're gunning for it again. We have a good team.”

“Eight ball?”

“Yep. Sometimes nine ball. But mostly eight.”

“Maybe we can find a pool hall somewhere nearby.”

“Actually, there's a place across from the Rio. It's called Pink-ees. Great place to play. Lots of tables.”

“Did you bring your cue?”

She shook her head. “Didn't know if there'd be time.”

“Let's make time.”

She took a bite of toast to hide her ridiculously happy grin. He liked pool. Excellent.

“So what else?” he asked. “Besides being a pool shark?”

“I ride my bike on weekends a lot.”

“You said you have a Shadow, right?”

She nodded.

“What got you into that?”

“A guy I went out with. He was kind of a dick, but he did turn me on to bikes. I got hooked immediately.”

“Not afraid you'll get hit?”

“Nope, not really. I operate on the principle that everyone's trying to kill me.”

He laughed, and she felt all squishy inside.

“What about you?”

“Yeah, I think people are trying to kill me, too.”

“No, I meant what you do. When you aren't being a private eye.”

He frowned a little, two lines appearing on his forehead. “I read too much.”

“How can anyone read too much?”

“Trust me, it's possible.”

“What kinds of books?”

“Everything.”

“I doubt that.”

He grinned. “Okay, so I'm not real big on romance novels. Or fantasy. But pretty much everything else.”

“Cool.”

“And I hike.”

“Where?”

“Wherever I can. I go out to the Catskills from time to time. And upstate New York. There are some nice places in Connecticut and Vermont, too.”

“How strenuous.”

“Have to be able to run. Remember, people trying to kill me and all that.”

She leaned forward. “Has anyone really?”

“Tried to kill me? Yep.”

“Oh, God.”

“They didn't succeed.”

“Obviously. Why?”

“I was faster. From all the hiking.”

“No, why did they try to kill you?”

“I found out stuff they didn't want known.”

“Scary.”

“Yeah. I try to avoid that kind of thing, but sometimes you get surprised.”

“That's not the kind of surprise I like.”

“But you do like surprises?”

She nodded. “Love 'em. Especially when there are gifts involved.”

He laughed. “Hey, let's finish up here. I'm starting to feel lucky.”

She quirked her head to the right, but he was busy with the check. She wondered if his idea of feeling lucky involved a locked door, a bedroom and getting naked.

T
HE CASINO WAS HOPPING
, tourists and locals all focused on winning the big one, the one that would change their lives forever. Ben knew the odds of that happening were slim to none, but he didn't care. He wanted to play, and to watch Taylor.

“You like blackjack?” he asked.

She nodded. “The last time I was here, I won two hundred dollars. I spent the whole wad on a pair of shoes that hurt my feet.”

He grinned, took her hand. “Let's see if we can get another pair.” He led her past the machines, surprised as always at the silliness of the glorified tic-tac-toe slots: Little Green Aliens, The Beverly Hillbillies, Elvis and The Munsters, just to name a few. Then they hit the banks of video poker machines, which was a little more understandable, but still confusing. If he was going to play poker, he wanted to do it with other people, preferably in someone's basement, with plenty of beer, sandwiches and good cigars.

Now blackjack, he liked. The only exception to that was when some obnoxious twit came to the table. He'd walk away before he'd play with a drunk who hit on seventeen, and doubled down on face cards.

They had to pass three tables before they found one with two open seats. He got Taylor in position, then sat on the stool next to her. Rubbing the smooth green felt, he checked out their compatriots. An older couple in brightly colored Hawaiian shirts, a tall gaunt man with a three-day stubble and hooded eyes and a young woman who didn't look old enough to drive, let alone gamble.

The dealer's name was Angel, and her name tag said she was from Tucson. She'd already dealt a hand, and was now going around the table, taking everyone's bets, as she'd hit twenty-one in five cards.

Ben got out his wallet and pulled out a hundred. He laid it down above the rectangle where he'd place his own bet.

Taylor reached for her purse, but he stopped her. “This one's on me,” he said. “For luck.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? I brought fun money.”

“You'll have plenty of time to spend it. I promise.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Angel took his bill, laid it out flat in front of her, so the security cameras could get a good shot, called out, “Change one hundred,” for the benefit of the pit boss, then gave him a stack of five, ten and twenty dollar chips. He split them up, fifty-fifty and gave Taylor her share.

She smiled again, making him want to give her all the money in his wallet, then she put a five, the minimum bet, down to play.

He did the same.

The dealer, taking the cards from the shoe, dealt the hand, and after the second card, Taylor gasped, turned over her cards to show a jack and an ace.

The dealer paid her, took her cards, then went on with the rest of the hand. Ben had a twenty, so he stayed pat. He leaned over to Taylor, getting a heady hit of her delicate scent for his trouble. “See, I told you we were going to be lucky.”

She turned to face him, her expression serious, but with a telltale gleam in her beautiful blue eyes. “You have no idea.”

His whole body reacted to her message, and it was all he could do not to leave the money, the cards, his dignity on the table and drag her up to his room. But he was strong, dammit. He wasn't a teenager, run by his hormones. Half the fun was the seduction, and he wasn't about to give short shrift to what promised to be the best week of his life. He'd wait. He'd play. And in the end, they'd both win.

The next round went by in a blur, but since the dealer busted, they both won.

The woman sitting to his left smiled. “Where are you two from?”

Before Taylor could speak, he nudged her lightly with his elbow. “Home base is London.”

“Really?”

He turned slyly to Taylor and gave her a wink before facing his neighbor again. “Yes.”

“You don't have a British accent.”

“We're trained not to.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“I'm James,” he said, holding out his hand. “And this is Jinx.”

He heard Taylor cough, which he assumed was a cover for laughter. She didn't know that this was a game he played frequently, making up some ridiculous persona when the truth would have done just as well, but less amusingly.

“I'm Sarah,” she said. “I live in the Valley. That's in Southern California.”

Ben nodded. “Ah, yes. The heart of the pornography industry.”

Sarah's cheeks reddened. “I wouldn't know about that.”

“Of course not.”

“I work for a post-production house. But not that kind.”

“Fascinating.”

The cards went out again, and until the payout, the conversation ebbed. Taylor took the opportunity to elbow him.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Having fun,” he whispered back.

“So you fancy yourself Bond, eh?”

“Hey, I could have called you Pussy Galore.”

“I would have decked you if you had.”

He grinned. “Hey, she was a real character.”

“Only a man would say that was a
real
character.”

“Sir?”

He looked up at Angel, waiting for him to hit or stand pat. His cards, a six and five, were a surprise. He doubled down, and she hit him with a king. Twenty-one.

Taylor didn't say anything, just gave him a smile. But as the rest of the hands were played, he felt something at his ankle. It was Taylor's foot. She'd slipped off her shoe, and was using her bare toes to tease him. It worked.

He glanced at her, but the smile had become a sly grin, and her gaze had shifted to Angel, watching her shuffle as if it mattered.

Ben said nothing, just enjoyed the feeling of her toes. He'd never been a foot man, but at the moment, he could understand the impulse. It wasn't easy to stay still, and not touch her thigh and run his hand over that smooth skin. The image of her on his bed, naked, him holding her by the heel as he studied her pink painted nails, took hold of him and didn't let him go until Angel coughed.

He picked up his cards, a ten and a seven, then slipped them under his ten-dollar bet. He didn't give a damn if he won or not. The only thing that mattered at the moment was the woman next to him.

Just as he was about to suggest they leave, a waitress came by. She was young and pretty, as were all the cocktail waitresses in the hotel. Taylor turned to her. “I'll have a Bloody Mary,” she said. “He'll have a martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

He laughed. The waitress jotted the orders without so much as a blink, then got the rest of the drink orders. So Taylor liked his game.

He faced Sarah. “Are you here by yourself?”

She shook her head. “I'm with three friends from work.”

“And they are…?”

“At the pool. But I burn so easily, it seemed kind of dumb.”

“This is more interesting,” he said. “You can learn a lot about people by watching them gamble.”

“Really?”

“See that man at the Wheel of Fortune?”

She followed his gaze and nodded when she saw the portly fellow standing next to his stool, feeding a bill into the machine. He didn't look as if he was having a very good time. In fact, his heavy brows furrowed to match his scowl, his scalp, bald all the way back to the crown of his head, was beaded with sweat. His light cotton shirt was stretched across his ample beer belly, and there were large circles of sweat under his arms. He ignored the pull lever, pushing the maximum-bet button with the palm of his hand. As the wheels spun, his lips moved. Probably a prayer, and then a curse as he got nothing, nothing, nothing.

“He isn't having much luck,” Sarah observed.

“No, it doesn't appear he is. You know that every time he pushes the button, it's two dollars.”

“Oh.”

“And since we've been watching him, he's pressed that button what, twelve times? That's twenty-four dollars. He was standing there before we sat down.”

“Whoa, that's a lot of money.”

“He's not holding a bucket, so no winnings.”

“Yikes.”

“Indeed. What else do you see?”

While Sarah studied the scene, he turned to Taylor. “You realize, of course,” he whispered, “you're not going to get away with this unscathed.”

“What?” she asked, batting her eyelashes like the soul of innocence while she inched her toes up his calf.

“Whatever you had planned this afternoon? Cancel it.”

Her cheeks became pink and the gaze that met his was full of anticipation and excitement. “I don't know,” she said. “I have to meet my mother.”

“Meet her later.”

“You presume, Mr. Bowman.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Then he leaned over so his lips were an inch from the soft shell of her ear. “I'm going to make you beg for mercy.”

She inhaled sharply, grabbed her cards with trembling fingers.

Sarah, to his left, said, “Hey.”

He held back his grin as he turned to his young friend. “Yes?”

“He's got a whole bunch of glasses stacked there. And he's kind of swaying,” Sarah said.

“Which means?”

“He's toasted. And scared. He's lost a whole bunch of money and he's trying to win it back.”

“Excellent.”

“Cool.”

“It pays to be observant.”

It was Sarah's turn to grin. “Like seeing that you two aren't from London at all. That you've been playing footsie for about ten minutes, and that while I'm not positive your name isn't James, it sure as heck isn't Bond.”

Taylor laughed. Angel grinned, and it wasn't because she'd dealt herself twenty-one.

“Very good, Sarah. If you ever get tired of post-production, you'd make a good detective.”

She smiled, mightily pleased with herself. “Is that what you really do?”

He held out his hand. “Ben Bowman, Private Detective.”

She shook his hand, but her gaze went to Taylor. “Are you a P.I., too?”

“I'm a paralegal, which isn't half as interesting.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Are you playing, sir?”

Ben realized he'd abandoned his cards altogether. He slipped two five dollar chips into the rectangle, and put another five above it, playing the bet for the dealer.

Taylor and Sarah both straightened, made their own bets, and each of them followed suit in tipping Angel. It turned out well for everyone. Angel busted with twenty-four.

“It's almost noon,” Taylor said. “My mother's going to be here in an hour.”

He shoved his whole stack of chips toward the center of the table. “Cash me in, please.”

Taylor's laughter was as intoxicating as the drink that arrived while he waited for his chips.

“Still want to cash out?” Taylor asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

“But our drinks…”

“Are portable.”

“Good point.”

Sarah sighed. “You guys are so lucky. How wonderful to be in love in Las Vegas.”

Ben froze, Taylor cleared her throat and Angel wasn't at all successful in hiding a knowing grin.

Taylor pushed her chips in after Ben got his money back. “We are lucky, thank you. But we're actually here for my brother's wedding.”

Sarah leaned forward over the lip of the table. “Why not make it a double wedding? Or better yet, run off to one of those cool chapels. You could get married by Elvis.” She reached frantically into her oversized purse and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. “This is my room number. I'm here for three more days. If you guys do get married, I want to be there.”

“I'd be delighted to take your card,” Ben said with a bow. “But I've been married. It's not going to happen again. Ever.”

Sarah smiled at him slyly. “You never know. Magic things happen in Las Vegas.”

He looked at Taylor. “Magic, yes. But some things aren't in the cards.” Nodding once more at Sarah, he said, “Hope you win a bundle.”

She glanced back at the Wheel of Fortune. The same man was still desperately pressing the max bet button, the only thing to have changed was the number of empty cocktail glasses beside him. “I'll settle for not losing my shirt.”

“Good girl.”

“I'm ready,” Taylor said, and from the high flush of her cheeks, he believed her.

Sarah was forgotten in a flash, as was blackjack,
gambling of any sort, the casino, the hotel, the entire city. All that mattered was the woman in front of him and getting her to his room. There was so much to do.

He took her arm at the elbow. “Let's go.”

 

T
AYLOR PRACTICALLY
had to run to keep up with Ben's long strides. He darted and weaved through the crowd, aiming for the elevators. Her drink sloshed as she tried not to step on toes. It would have been smarter just to put the glass down, but there was no stopping Ben. Nor did she want to. She felt like a teenager…. No, like the teenager she'd been with Ben. How she'd loved him! He'd been the only thing in her life for well over a year.

She sidestepped to avoid a woman in a wheelchair, her purse banging into her side, then they were clear of the casino.

Ben looked back at her, and his grin made her toes curl. She didn't know the specifics of his plan, but she was all in favor of the general idea.

Good thing she'd dressed with care this morning; shaved everything that should be, worn her matching pink lace bra and panties. She'd even put a couple of condoms in her purse. Then she'd written to her friends at Eve's Apple, filling them in on the distinct possibility that her Man To Do would be Done before tomorrow. She hadn't really thought it would happen quite this soon, but who was she to complain?

Ben slowed as they neared the elevator, pulling her close enough to slip his arm around her shoulders.
“I don't remember,” he whispered, “if I told you how beautiful you look this morning.”

She shook her head. “No, I don't think you did.”