CONNECTIONS: A Romantic Suspense (DESIGNER CHILDREN Book 2), page 4
He flipped up his three jacks and shoved back his black curly hair. He needed to get a haircut or start tying it back.
Although one woman had once told him she liked his long hair. It made her feel like she was being ravaged by a pirate.
He raised his eyebrows at the redhead across from him, wondering whether she’d like to be ravaged.
Shaking her head, she flipped her cards to the dealer. “The pot’s yours.”
As he scraped up his chips, she slid back her chair. “I’m done for the night.”
“Buy you a drink?” he asked, pouring his chips into a bag provided by the dealer.
Miss O’Toole should be buying his drink. She’d walked away with a bigger take from the table than he had.
But he’d come out ahead. Profit was king.
“No thanks, Mr. Phoenix. It was nice playing against a legend.”
“Legend? Now you’re making me feel old. And call me Drew.” He grinned. “Just a cup of coffee?”
He followed her into the main gaming floor. Her black silk dress clung to a well-toned body. Nice. Her heels did their wonderful magic to awesome legs. She was probably a foot shorter than his six-foot-six frame, but her body was put together as well as any professional athlete. Fiery hair spiraled down her back. He wanted to bury his hands in her curls.
Intriguing. He hadn’t felt like this in a while.
The ding of slot machines and the hum of hundreds of people gambling away their money assaulted his ears.
“A cup of … something,” he suggested one more time.
She looked at her watch. A nice piece with quality diamonds surrounding the face. Who was this woman? “It’s after nine PM. I stop drinking coffee after noon.”
“How can you be a gambler? Come on. A drink and your first name.”
She faced him. Her smile sparked her emerald eyes with a fire that warmed her whole face and half the casino floor.
“Margaret, Maggie to my friends.”
“Wow, could you be any more Irish?”
“First generation. My parents immigrated in their early twenties.” She added a brogue he could have cut with a steak knife. Then she headed to the casino lobby.
“Come on, a soda. Water. Wine.” Obviously the woman didn’t wear tight dresses often. She kept trying to stride in the tight black sheath and ended up almost dancing to her destination.
Why would she dress this way if she wasn’t comfortable?
A disguise?
She looked at her watch again and then nibbled on luscious pink lips. Something about this woman gripped his gut. Maybe it was because he rarely pursued any woman. Or maybe it was because Miss O’Toole appeared to be immune to his charms.
“One drink,” she said. “A beer, something dark.”
When he put a hand on the small of her back, she jumped. “Hands to yourself, Mr. Phoenix. I know how to walk.”
“Noted. My only excuse is my mother raised me as a gentleman.” He pulled out her chair. The votive candle in the middle of the table didn’t provide much light. Most of the lighting came from the backlit blue stained glass behind the bar.
She actually laughed. “Gentleman gambler?”
“Well, Mom’s still not comfortable with the gambling part.” That was an understatement.
Their waitress was at the table before he took his seat. “What can I get you, Drew?” she asked.
“Lady wants a dark beer. I’ll take the same. You choose, Deb.”
Maggie nodded her head as if she’d confirmed some piece of data. “Come here often?”
“I like the Resurrection. It’s smaller, more intimate than the other top shelf casinos. Quieter.”
“Do you always win when you play?”
He shrugged. “I win more than I lose.”
Otherwise he’d be looking for a new profession.
She leaned closer as if she were sharing a secret. “How do you do it? How do you win more than you lose?”
He couldn’t help but admire the bit of cleavage that flashed as she bent forward. Then her insulting question sank in.
“I’m smarter than ninety-nine percent of the people on the planet and therefore smarter than almost everyone in a casino.” He gritted his teeth. What was she up to?
She crossed her arms and her breasts plumped up a little more. Nice. “I heard you had a system. Do you mark cards? Use a team?”
Her body wouldn’t distract him into admitting a lie, especially to a stranger. His eyes narrowed. “Where would you hear something like that?”
“You know how it is when players get together.” She uncrossed her arms and waved a hand in the air. “They gossip more than old men playing checkers in the park.”
“I don’t have a system.” Her questions made the skin on his neck crawl. “I don’t use a team of people. I. Don’t. Cheat.”
The conversation slammed to a halt.
She didn’t even look guilty. Who was she?
Deb brought their beers. “Fat Tires, hope you like them.”
He paid, leaving a generous tip. Deb was a struggling single mother with two young kids. Her husband, a member of the Nevada National Guard, had been killed in Afghanistan only a few months before the US pulled out.
“This is a nice beer.” Maggie smiled, behaving like she hadn’t just accused him of cheating.
“Glad you like it. Where are you from?”
“Oh, here and there.”
“I haven’t seen you around town.” And Vegas may be growing, but the high stake gambling community was small. “When did you move here?”
“Oh, I haven’t decided to move. I have a place in … Atlantic City.”
He got to Atlantic City on a fairly regular basis and had never seen her there. If they’d been playing poker, he’d be folding his hand with the cards she was dealing him.
“Maggie,” a man called.
“Gabe.” She stood and hugged the man Drew recognized as one of the owners. They’d never talked, but he’d seen him on the floor and in the back rooms.
“Staff let me know you’d settled in.” Gabe kept an arm around her waist as they turned. Was she the owner’s girlfriend?
“Gabe Delvecchio,” Maggie said. “This is Drew Phoenix.”
Drew stood. At six-foot-six he towered over the guy. They shook hands, and he applied a little extra pressure. His gut told him this was a setup. “Nice to meet you, Gabe. I like your casino. It’s well-run and the staff is great.”
“Thanks, so do I.”
“We just finished a game.” Maggie sat and traced patterns in the condensation on her glass.
“I heard you were the last two left at the table.” Gabe pulled a chair from another table. “Sounds like you both had luck.”
Drew raised an eyebrow, knowing it enhanced his pirate look. “I don’t believe in luck.”
“But you do have a lot of luck in my casino,” Gabe commented.
Drew smiled. Gabe probably could recite Drew’s bets and winnings broken down by game and date. Fine with him. “If you talk to the other casinos, they’d say the same thing.”
Deb appeared with a glass in her hand. “Here’s your drink, Mr. Delvecchio.”
“Thanks, Deb.” At least the man knew the names of his staff.
Deb looked at Drew and Maggie. “Can I get you anything else?”
“I’m good,” he said. Maggie also declined.
Something was up between Maggie and Delvecchio. “How do you know each other?”
A glance passed between them, and she spoke first. “College friends.”
He nodded, not believing a word she said. “Where did you go to school?”
“Oh—umm—Maryland.”
“University?” How deep a hole were they willing to dig?
“A small college,” Gabe added. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
Drew didn’t like the secrecy vibes radiating from these two. He sipped his beer, waiting to see what they said next.
A young man wearing a casino badge tapped Delvecchio’s shoulder. “Sir?”
“What’s up Brian?”
Brian whispered in Delvecchio’s ear.
Gabe nodded. Standing, he kissed Maggie on the cheek. “I need to run.”
“We’ll catch up later,” Maggie said.
Drew still didn’t have a handle on whether they were friends or lovers. His BS radar twitched as he watched the two of them, but he still wanted to know if she was available.
“What college did you go to?” Just because Gabe had left didn’t mean he would let her off the hook.
“St. Stephens.”
“Ah, you’re Catholic.”
“Of course,” she said and added, “well, I’m ready to call it a night.”
Drew stood when she did.
“I hope I see you again,” she murmured, those green eyes holding his for longer than necessary. A little charge went through his body.
She was walking away before he replied, “Absolutely.”
“Here’s the money you staked me.” Maggie handed Gabe a stack of chips. “I’m keeping the profits.”
“Maybe we should split the profits.” Gabe grinned.
She shook her head. “Nope. I did the work.”
“What did you find?” Gabe leaned back in his office chair.
“I didn’t find any marks on the deck,” Maggie said. “He rarely picks up his cards. I didn’t spot anyone feeding him info. But your spotters are probably better and more reliable reporters.”
Gabe tapped his fingers on his desk. “They’ve never caught anything.”
“I did get access to his IQ. Genius. The fact that the CIA tried to recruit him was also in his file.” That information was courtesy of the file consolidation efforts completed by Homeland Security. “You know his mother is a mathematical genius and his father founded and runs a tech company in San Diego.”
“I do.”
“Can you imagine what their dinner conversations were like; probability theory or software code?”
“And ours were casinos and gambling.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand how you ended up with a badge.” He gave a big exaggerated sigh. “And FBI.”
“I figured one day I’d get to cuff you.”
“Any time, O’Toole, any time.” He leered and held out his hands, but there wasn’t any heat to his comment.
“Stuff it.” She shook her head. “If you’re worried, why don’t you ban Phoenix from the casino? You’ve got the right.”
“I’m fine with Phoenix playing poker, he gets a lot of attention and the house gets its cut. It’s when he plays blackjack.”
“Ban him from the blackjack tables,” she suggested.
Gabe bounced his pen on his desk. She almost yanked it out of his hand, but he probably didn’t even know he was doing it. He’d had the habit since he’d sat behind her in the third grade at St. Gabriel’s grade school. Anytime he was deep in thought, he tapped whatever was in his hands. He was a terrible poker player.
“I’ve been thinking about banning him,” Gabe said, “but when he’s at a table, people around him have higher average bets.”
“Then it’s worth having him there.” Maggie walked to his window. “Nice view, buddy.”
She looked down at the hotel’s evening activity on the strip. The one hundred and ten degree heat had chased all but the crazies into their air-conditioned cars or buildings.
Maggie didn’t believe the bullshit about the dry heat being better. She’d take the breeze off the Atlantic any day. She was a Jersey girl.
Gabe came and stood next to her. His full lips broke into a smile. He had devastating Italian looks and charm in spades, and he knew it.
She’d never fallen for his chocolate eyes or curly brown hair. Their dad’s partnership in an Atlantic City casino made them practically brother and sister.
“Well, my work here is done,” she said.
“I thought you would stay longer,” Gabe said.
“Sure. On you though. I’m just a poorly paid federal employee.”
“Right. Dividends from the casino drying up?”
“Nope. I’m saving for a house.”
“God, it’s like we’re adults.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been an adult for a while.”
Since she was fifteen and her mother died in her arms. She shook her head, not wanting Gabe to realize where her thoughts had gone.
“I appreciate you coming out,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t trust my staff, I do. It’s …”
“I know, Gabe.” She put her arm around his waist. “I’m family.”
“Yeah.” His hand stroked her back. “When do you fly back to Jersey?”
“Sunday night. I’ve got tickets to see the Texas Hold’em game being filmed this weekend.” She wanted to see Phoenix in action. See if he had some sort of system she’d missed. She wanted to help her friend.
“I’ll get you a front row seat with me and make a reservation for an early dinner each night.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She stood. “I’m heading to bed. Then in the morning I plan to sit by the pool and add more freckles to my collection. Text me the time for dinner.”
After tomorrow’s dinner, she’d get a chance to watch how Phoenix handled himself at the tables. See if she’d missed anything.
It had taken Kat another week before she could fly to Vegas, but she was finally here. Lucille had approved the story and agreed to pay airfare and her rental car. The first day she’d arrived, she’d hustled and interviewed casino spokespeople, law enforcement, and a representative from Gambler’s Anonymous.
Her work had kept her from spending much time with her father and his current wife. Major plus. But this morning, wife number four insisted on making her breakfast. Number four was a replica of his previous three wives—blonde, beautiful and busty. Although number four didn’t look like her boobs had been … enhanced like wives two and three and been.
“I need to go,” Kat said to number four. What in blazes was her name? It conveniently started with a F. F for four. Flora, Fiona, no—Fay. Fay. She tried to stick it in her memory, but knowing her father, this wife wouldn’t last much longer.
“I hope you have enough time to eat. I made you an egg white omelet,” Fay said as she served Kat.
“That’s nice of you.”
“After your father had his heart attack, I changed his diet.” Fay pointed her finger at her. “Have your cholesterol checked. This is genetic.”
Heart attack? “I didn’t hear about that.”
“Right on the golf course.” Fay topped off her own coffee. Decaf. Yuck. And sat across from Kat. “The doctor put in two stents. He didn’t tell you?”
“No. And my sisters didn’t say anything.” She wouldn’t make excuses as to why her father didn’t talk to any of his daughters. That was on her dad.
“Well, now that we’ve met and I have your phone number, I’ll keep you posted.” Fay smiled at her.
“Thanks.” Kat didn’t want to care about her father’s health, but she’d spent the first twelve years of her life trying to get his attention.
Nothing had worked.
Her dad wasn’t even here to say goodbye. He’d refused to cancel his weekly golf game for a visiting daughter he hadn’t seen in five years.
Why her mother had fallen in love and then pined for the shallow miserable prick for twenty years after their divorce made no sense to Kat.
“Are you sure you have to leave?” Fay asked as Kat finished her omelet. “You could stay tonight and fly out in the morning.”
“I can’t. I have an interview scheduled.” And she’d better leave soon. “After that, I head to the airport.”
“If you miss your flight, you’re welcome to come back.” Fay sighed. “You’re the first daughter I’ve met.”
And probably the last. Too bad. Kat was starting to like Fay. “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”
“I’m … we’re glad to have you.”
Kat squeezed Fay’s hand. “You should talk my dad into bringing you to Texas.”
Kat doubted he would do it. He didn’t visit his daughters.
“I’ll try,” Fay said. “Tell your sisters I said hi and they’re welcome here anytime.”
“I will.” She wheeled her suitcase out to the car and tucked it in the trunk.
Fay gave her a big hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Kat slipped into the car and waved. Maybe Fay would survive. Sympathy wormed through her. She hoped Dad wasn’t already screwing around with other women like he always did. Fay didn’t deserve it.
But she didn’t have time to worry about her dad’s marriage.
It was time to meet Andrew Phoenix.
Her GPS guided her to a Vegas suburb tucked in a stark but beautiful red rock canyon. The morning temperature already topped ninety. At least it wasn’t muggy like back home.
On the drive, she rehearsed different ways to approach Mr. Phoenix. She could play out the gambling storyline and soften him up before telling him about Harris, Ashe and Piper. Or she could tell him the truth.
If it was her, she’d want the truth. So that was what she would do.
Her phone rang. “Hey, Mom.”
“What are you doing visiting your father,” her mother snapped.
“It’s for a story." Kat took a deep breath. It had been a mistake to tell her sister she was going to see their father. “I just stayed at his house. He was barely there.”
“You stayed with … that … that woman?”
“Not the one who came to Kari’s wedding.” Kat turned into a neighborhood, hoping she would find Drew’s house soon, so she could get off the phone.
“Oh.” Her mother sniffled.
“Mom, you’ve been divorced for years.” Kat couldn’t hold back her frustration.
“But he hurt me,” she wailed. “Love isn’t worth the pain.”
“I know.” And it was why she was so leery of taking things with Ashe any further.
Kat spotted Andrew’s house. “I have to go. I have an interview.”
“But …”
“You should call Kari and see if she wants to enjoy a spa day with you. You both deserve one.”
There was a big sniff. “That’s a good idea. We could wait until you come home.”
