The Gambler

by Molly O'Keefe

  “What?” I snapped. This is why I hadn’t told anyone, because people would think I was crazy.

  “That’s a fantastic idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. What’s happening?”

  “I have one more orientation meeting and then a home visit before I’m approved.”

  “Wow.” Tyler smiled. “That seems fast. Is that fast?”

  I nodded. “Nora’s helping me. She’s worried about Miguel and Louisa, too.”

  “Nora Sullivan?” Tyler asked. “Are we talking about the same woman?”

  “I know, but trust me, she’s actually a big softie.” Well, maybe softie was a bit of a stretch, but she certainly wasn’t quite the bulldog she appeared to be.

  “I’m proud of you, Juliette,” he said, so serious, so earnest. “The world needs more police chiefs like you.”

  Without even thinking, I put my hand over his, like putting my palm on a fire. Small explosions blasted through me and I wanted more. Unwittingly, I wrapped my fingers around his palm, feeling the calluses and warmth. The life.

  His eyes flickered shut for a moment, as if he felt it all, too, and he just couldn’t bear it.

  “I talked to my dad,” I whispered, the words spilling out of my mouth like water from a fountain. “He told me what he did. Your father’s address and everything. Threatening your family. I understand why you left and I understand why you kept your Dad a secret when you came back.”

  Tyler’s throat bobbed and I could hear his breath sawing out of his lungs. The world had shrunk down to us. To the air between us. His eyes and my need to touch him.

  “Will you tell me about finding him?” I asked.

  He closed his eyes and pulled his hand away from mine, leaving my palm cold and empty. “You don’t want to hear about it, trust me.”

  “You’re wrong,” I breathed, and grabbed his wrist, my fingers on his pulse. “I want to hear everything about the last ten years. Talk to me,” I said, tilting my head, trying to smile. “I used to have to beg you to shut up, remember?”

  His lip twitched.

  “It was like you’d never talked to anyone before,” I said, laughing. “Some nights, I’d just put the phone on my pillow and take a little nap.” A lie, we both knew it. I’d hung on his every word.

  “I’d never talked to anyone like you,” he said, his eyes roving over my face. “Never to anyone who listened like you.”

  “I’m listening now,” I said. “Tell me how you found your dad.”

  After a long moment his thumb brushed my hand and his fingers curled around mine, holding my hand in his palm like a little bird. “He was in Vegas, just like your father said. He’d just won a big purse and he loved showing me what a big man he was. He let me move in and within six months the money was gone. He’d been kicked out of most of the games in town, so I started to play to support us, keep us off friends’ couches.” He shrugged. “We’ve been a happy little family ever since.”

  It hurt me, that sarcasm, because it didn’t even begin to hide the pain.

  “I’m sorry, Tyler,” I said, and he held up his hand.

  “Whatever happens, from now on, no more apologies,” he said. “We were kids. Your father was wrong, I was wrong. And maybe, just a little bit, you were wrong—”

  “Me?”

  “Talking about giving up law school?” Tyler tsked his tongue.

  “My decision,” I said. “Not yours, not my father’s. Mine.”

  “You’re right. That was up to you,” he said, waving his hands and absolving me of guilt. He wasn’t joking. Again, the fact that he didn’t hold a grudge just killed me.

  Was there a chance? A real chance that this man was as good as I wanted to believe? Was the truth, the shining, diamond-hard truth buried under dirt and distraction, that he was a rare man? One who deserved my love and respect? My adoration?

  There was only one way to find out. I had to try.

  “Then no more lies,” I said. “I won’t apologize anymore, but you can’t keep anything from me anymore.”

  * * *

  TYLER

  * * *

  No lies? I thought, my stomach bottoming out.

  Like, I found a priceless stolen gem in my grandmother’s attic? A gem that could implicate my whole family in who knows what kind of mess?

  You can trust her, I thought, desperate because the weight of this gem was growing slightly intolerable. But one look at her face, so earnest, so firm and beloved, and I knew I could not get her wrapped up in this.

  This gem was Notorious O’Neill business all the way.

  “Is that so hard?” she asked. There was a smile on her lips, but I could see the balances in her eyes, the way things were tipping out of my favor the longer I waited.

  I’d call Carter, should have done it yesterday. The two of us could figure this out. Make a plan. Ditch the diamond someplace where no one would ever find it.

  She would never know.

  “No lies,” I said, and nodded. “I can do that.”

  Luckily the waiter showed up with a tray of food.

  “Miguel!” I called, waving him away from the girls.

  The smell of cheese and bacon and pickles wafted up from the foil-wrapped treasures in front of us and Jules dug in. Her appetite had always been one of those things I loved about her. Watching her eat food had turned into one of the more erotic aspects of our relationship. I didn’t even want to guess the number of ice cream cones I’d watched that girl demolish.

  “Oh,” Juliette groaned, and my body went hot. The woman even made a cheeseburger sexy. “Oh, that’s good.”

  “Hey!” Miguel said, coming to stand at the edge of our table. “You drank my pop.”

  “You snooze, you lose,” she said, taking a big slurp.

  “That’s cold, Chief,” Miguel said. “Cold.”

  Miguel reached over and snagged a handful of Juliette’s fries and her smile was something new, or rather, something old. The old Jules sat here, surrounded in sparkle and gold dust. My heart leaped and love flooded me.

  I felt removed for a moment, lifted away from the scene as if watching it from miles away. Juliette threw a French fry at Miguel, who reached over and stole another handful. She laughed and appealed to me, but I could only smile.

  A certain kind of fear trickled into my stomach. A fear that this was as close as I would get to real family—and that it could all be taken away from me.

  * * *

  TYLER

  * * *

  A half hour later, Miguel led us out of Ed’s and high-tailed it right to the passenger seat of Juliette’s car, his thumbs going to town on his cell phone.

  “He just said goodbye to them,” I said about the girls Miguel was no doubt texting. “Is he telling them about the parking lot?”

  “It’s Friday night,” she said. “They’re making plans he didn’t want me to hear.”

  “Ah.”

  “Speaking of plans,” she said, an awkward cheer in her voice, “are you at Remy’s tonight?”

  I nodded.

  “Maybe…maybe I’ll see you there,” she said, her smile flirty. Again. I sobered.

  “What are you doing, Juliette?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  I reached out and turned her to face me, looking hard into her eyes, seeing every insecurity I felt. Every ounce of love and desire and fear.

  “What are you doing, Juliette?” I whispered again and I knew, I could see it in her eyes, that she understood me.

  “Do I have to know right now?”

  “I can’t do casual, Juliette. Not with you.”

  She swallowed and I stepped closer, pushing my fingers into her hair. I could feel her heart hammer against the heel of my palm. The scent of lemons flooded me.

  “If you come out to Remy’s tonight,” I murmured, “be prepared.”

  “For what?” she breathed.

  “For me,” I said, and pressed a whisper of a kiss against her sweet lips.

&
nbsp; I walked razor wire all night. Believing she would walk in Remy’s door at any moment and hoping, oddly, that she wouldn’t.

  Dying every time I looked up from the keys and saw that she wasn’t there.

  She’s not coming.

  How could she not?

  You should be glad. Relieved.

  I want her so much I can’t stand it anymore.

  Raquel, the singer, stopped singing and Mitch at the drum kit played his last fill when I realized I was still playing the chords of the chorus.

  “We’re going to take a quick break,” Raquel said, the perfect ebony of her skin absorbing the lights. The woman had shoulders like an archer and a voice like a songbird.

  Maybe I should start something up with Raquel, I thought, sick of myself and Juliette and the past. With Raquel I could do casual. And maybe casual is what I need. Maybe casual is all I’ll ever need.

  “Tyler,” Raquel said, coming to stand between me and the crowd. “You with us tonight?”

  “Right here,” I muttered, lifting the hem of my shirt and wiping my forehead.

  “The hell you are,” Mitch said, his hand over the microphone.

  “You’re playing like the living dead,” Raquel said, slightly more sympathetic. “If you need time—”

  “I don’t need time,” I snapped. Everything in me was wound so tight I was about to burst. “I’m fine. Let’s just keep playing.”

  She shook her head. “Baby, I don’t let anyone make me look bad, and you are walking real close to that line.”

  I sighed. “Yeah. I know. I’ll get my—”

  Behind Raquel I caught a glimpse of jet-black hair, skin like cocoa. I leaned back, my heart a jackhammer against my ribs.

  In the middle of the emptying dance floor, in a red dress that told me every secret her body ever wanted kept, was Juliette.

  I stood, the bench screeching against the stage.

  “Ty!” Raquel cried as I leaped off the stage.

  Everything vanished, Raquel, Mitch, the rest of the set—the entire world just disappeared and it was Juliette. Right here.

  Right now.

  16

  JULIETTE

  * * *

  Desire hit me like a freight train. He leaped off the stage and crossed the empty dance floor, stalking me like some kind of jungle animal. His khaki pants hung low, his white tank top was damp and stretched at the bottom, like he’d been wiping his face with it all night. Beneath his beat-up fedora, his eyes burned holes through my dress until I stood there naked for him.

  Mindless to anything but him.

  Here. Now. On the damn dance floor in front of everyone—it didn’t matter. I needed Tyler’s touch. I needed him, hard and high inside of me, touching places no one else ever seemed to find.

  Finally, he was there, the smell of sweat and beer and sex rolling off of him. In his eyes there wasn’t even a question. There was only happiness and delicious, delicious lust.

  He grabbed my hand, his fingers twining with mine and the ache between my legs was so painful, so expectant, I wanted to scream.

  There was nothing to say. No words that could make what was happening any clearer. I tugged on his hand, leading him toward the back patio where hardly anyone went.

  The cool air was a gorgeous relief against my chest, bare legs and face for just one moment before the furnace of Tyler pressed against my back.

  “You’re here.” His breath feathered across my neck and my nipples went so hard so fast, I gasped.

  “You ready?” he asked, and I nodded, words beyond me.

  “Tell me, Juliette,” he said. “Say the words.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “For?”

  Oh, man, I was going to fall apart. I was going to burn to ash. His fingertips brushed, just barely, against the skin of my breast.

  “What are you ready for, Juliette?” he asked, his voice a purr, his fingers a feather against my ribs, my stomach.

  I turned and looked him right in the eye. “You,” I whispered.

  He groaned and kissed me. I expected a devouring. Something wild and rough. But what I got was tender, reverent. Tyler O’Neill at his sweetest and most restrained, and it tore me apart like nothing else.

  I pulled back to look into his face, taut with lust, with a rigid control that I loved and wanted to demolish at the same time. His hair, sun shot and rumpled, fell over his eyes.

  He smiled, everything in him beaming out toward me, like arms reaching for me. Like love and laughter. Like a family. Like belonging.

  And I fell. I fell right back into love with Tyler O’Neill.

  “Look,” he said. “Not that I’m about ten seconds from ripping that dress off you. But I understand if this is too fast—”

  Honestly, how could I not love him? I wondered, awestruck by his grace.

  “Is it too fast for you?” I asked.

  His laugh was pained.

  “I didn’t think so.” I reached for him, but his hands braced against my hips and held me away.

  “No, Juliette,” he whispered.

  “No, what?” I asked, not comprehending, lust making a mess of my head.

  “Not like this. We’re not kids sneaking around anymore, are we?”

  “No,” I whispered. “We’re not.”

  “Then let’s do this right,” he said. “Let’s go back to your place.”

  “My place?” I asked. “Not your old single bed at The Manor?”

  His eyelids flinched. “My dad’s there,” he said, and stroked my arm, raising gooseflesh up and down my body.

  “Wasn’t he there the other night, too?”

  “Yeah, but this is different.”

  It was.

  “I could meet him,” I offered. I didn’t particularly want to, but Priscilla’s comments about pulling Tyler to good and bad pieces and only loving the good parts rang in my head. “You know…officially.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want him anywhere near you,” he said. And I knew what he meant and wanted to protest—I wasn’t something he needed to protect or keep clean. I was ready for him and all his skeletons.

  His kiss burned away my noble thoughts and all I wanted was him alone for several hours. Getting to know the family could wait.

  Stopping was torture, but I threw back my hair and took his hand.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  TYLER

  * * *

  I followed Juliette’s taillights to a little bungalow on a dark, tree-lined street. Curiosity over where and how she lived fought a valiant battle against blood-boiling lust, but as soon as I saw one long, elegant leg slide out her car door, curiosity went down in flames.

  I wanted her so bad I could barely breathe, much less think. I was destroyed by her, turned to ash and rubble.

  I turned off the ignition and jumped out of the car, getting to her just as she closed her own door.

  She was gorgeous in the shadows, her hair an inky mystery. I touched a curl as it rested against her bare shoulder and then slid my hands up until I cupped her head and she gasped. Electricity surrounded us, crackling and popping.

  “Second thoughts?” I asked.

  “No,” she whispered. “Absolutely not.”

  “Good,” I said, and kissed her. I nipped at her full lips until they opened and my tongue touched hers.

  She pushed against me. “I didn’t drive all this way to do this against my car,” she muttered, her eyes flashing.

  “Lead the way,” I said, stepping back, but not letting go of her hand.

  We didn’t bother with small talk, or light. She opened her door, I kicked it shut. She led me through the dark house and all I watched was the sway of her hips. She could have been leading me to hell, for all I cared.

  In the bedroom I got a quick impression of a purple comforter and lingerie spilling out of an open dresser drawer before she turned to face me.

  She glowed in the shadows, lit from within by a fire that I had longed to warm myself by fo
r as long as I could remember. I was humbled because she stood there as a woman who frankly knew better than to get involved with me.

  And she still chose me.

  She grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head and throwing it on the floor. “Look at you,” she breathed, her hands on my chest, the muscles of my stomach. “Tyler O’Neill, all grown up. You’re like a statue.”

  I nearly laughed. Part of me sure felt like a statue.

  I found the zipper under her arm and pulled it down, the dress rippling down to the floor. Suddenly, there she was. Juliette Tremblant in a whisper of black silk and shadows.

  Her body was still so taut. Strong. Her breasts small but perfect, her hips a little bigger, rounder. Womanly. I ran a finger from her collarbone to the lace between her legs.

  “I can’t believe you let me touch you,” I said, awed, curling my fingertip around the elastic and pulling it down just enough that dark curls appeared around my finger.

  Juliette’s breath hitched, her eyelids fluttered.

  I knew this was fast, that there were a thousand steps I was missing, but her head tilted back and she gripped my wrist, urging me, ever so slightly, on.

  I worked a finger through those curls to the hot little slit waiting for me. I felt her desire like humidity and I slid that finger just inside. To that hot spot.

  She gasped, her knees buckling and she reached forward and grabbed my belt. I grazed her clitoris with the callus on my fingertip, the smallest touches and she reacted like I was using dynamite.

  She leaned forward, resting her head against my chest, and I slid my finger deeper, finding the open well of her body. She moaned deep in her throat.

  Something dark was building between us. Something hotter than anything we might have shared in the past.

  I twisted my hand and another finger entered her and her hands cupped my shoulder, nails biting into my skin. With her other hand she tore at my belt, pawing at the fly of my pants until they puddled at my feet.

  I kicked off my shoes, stepped free of my pants, and we were both naked, a shaft of moonlight slicing across us. My hand against the dark nest of curls was illuminated, her eyes, dilated and glowing with hunger.