Call My Bluff: A Las Vegas Themed Anthology

by Elizabeth Knox

  He snorted, and his shoulders bumped up once in humor before he informed me, “Change in plans, Miz. I’m to take you straight to the Laredo and take you up to Nick’s suite.”

  There were a few things I wanted to dissect there, but first and foremost I demanded, “Ted, why is it that I’ve been asking you to call me Harlow for almost five years and you still call me Miss Spencer, but this stranger comes along, and you call him by his first name?”

  I couldn’t stop the snark from flooding my voice. I was genuinely hurt. He’d known me for years, but this new guy pops up, and suddenly they were on a first-name basis.

  Such B.S.

  “I’ve known Nick for years. He’s a pain in the ass, you’re a beautiful lady.”

  He said nothing further, and I felt properly chastised. “You think I’m a lady?”

  His voice softened as he flicked on the blinker and pulled up to the entrance of the towering building of the Laredo Hotel, “Of course I think you’re a lady. Why wouldn’t I?”

  I felt weird when I reminded him, “Uh, Ted, I’m an escort, a step above a hooker, and my brother was a drug addict.”

  He said nothing as he slammed the car into park and exited the driver’s seat. Moving around the car to my door, he held it open and waited until I exited the car and he slammed the door shut turning to me and saying, “Harlow,” I felt that as a gut punch because it was unexpected and very serious, “you have a job. One that others may choose to do under questionable circumstances. Your brother was an idiot. None of that reflects poorly on you. You stepped up and took care of your brother and Rico when neither had a soul to depend on. You became family to both of us, and our hearts broke for you when Edgar died, but that doesn’t reflect on you. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll stick with Miz Spencer.”

  I melted and did something I’d never done before. I threw my arms around the older man and squeezed as tightly as I could. Neither of us spoke, though he returned my hug. Once he was free from my grasp, he moved to the trunk and pulled out both of my suitcases, setting them on the ground and said, “If you’ll follow me, Miz Spencer, I’ll show you to your room.”

  I dutifully trudged along behind him and into the elevator. He hit the last button, put in a card and then up we went. The doors slid open, and we moved into the hallway. I followed him to the door where he knocked twice, perfunctorily, then slid the same card into the slot and turned the knob.

  My breath halted in my chest.

  He was every naughty dream I’d ever had come to life. I’d known he was gorgeous but seeing him like that stole the air from my lungs.

  From black socks to creased tuxedo pants, up to his tucked-in white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a tie, loose and hanging around his neck, all askew.

  Instant heat flooded my nether regions, but it quickly turned to ice when he glanced up and waved me away while speaking in rapid-fire Spanish. Waved me away.

  Ted stepped around me and moved to a door on the left, opened it, and pulled my suitcases inside. He left the door open and moved past me, giving my shoulder a friendly pat as he walked by. At the door, he turned and nodded to Nick and disappeared from sight, closing the door softly behind him.

  I stood awkwardly while Nick continued to pace and speak. Being around Rico, I’d picked up a few words in Spanish here and there, but his conversation was moving entirely too fast for me to keep up.

  He paced the length of the living room, then turned on his heel and headed back in my direction. He caught sight of me again and covered the phone with his palm saying, “Your room is right through that door. Go get settled in, unpack, or whatever you need to do. As soon as I get this taken care of, I’ll let you know. We don’t have to leave until 6.”

  And with that, I was dismissed.

  He waved me off and was already back in the midst of his heated conversation.

  I was completely forgotten.

  I shrugged. Whatever. He wasn’t paying me to stand here staring at him, and it helped that his piss poor attitude completely detracted from his hotness factor.

  Finally, feeling like I could breathe for the first time since I’d stepped foot out of my apartment, I shrugged it off and did as I was told.

  Chapter Four

  A half-hour after he’d dismissed me and sent me to my room, ugh, he knocked on the door and then entered, not bothering to wait for my approval.

  Yay. This was going to be a wonderful week. Not.

  “Harlow, I’m so sorry about that. I had to work out some details for next week, and no one seems to be able to do as they’re told in my life.” He paused thoughtfully as he looked around at the neat room. I was unpacked, and my room now truly looked like a bedroom. “Except you, apparently.”

  The smirk he sent me did things to my body that I wasn’t prepared to analyze just yet. I decided that detached and businesslike was the way to go, so I nodded and said, “I’ve always taken direction fairly well, it’s one of my best attributes, or so I’ve been told.” Why did I feel like I’d ultimately failed at the whole detached, businesslike thing?

  Those lips ticked up, and he gave me a glimpse at his perfect white teeth, “I can’t say that I agree. I’ve seen those legs, and they’re supremely better than your propensity for obedience.”

  It was utterly ridiculous that my cheeks flamed at his comment. Again, why had I felt the need to put on a show without even bothering to look up and see if Rico had company? I was well known for my dramatics. It was a quirk, and most days, it was a quality, but I was also an unobservant dunce. I sank to the bed, sitting on its edge, and dropped my face into my hands, refusing to respond to him.

  I could feel his stare, in the drawn-out silence, so I finally lifted my head and met his eyes, “Why are you staring at me?”

  He was leaning back casually against the doorframe, arms crossed on his chest, one ankle crossed over the other. He looked like a man at ease. King of the castle. And a man I really, really wanted to jump right then and there.

  Focus Harlow, you slut-minded nit-wit.

  His eyes danced over my face, ever-present naughty grin still firmly in place before remarking, “Because you’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”

  Abruptly he pulled himself up to his full height and said, “Get your shoes on, Baby Doll, I’m taking you out to dinner before the game.”

  He didn’t move. Didn’t leave the room. Just kept that laser beam focus on me. Self-conscious, I stood and moved to where I’d taken my shoes off. I stood on one foot and leaned to buckle the clasp on the first one, no problemo, I was a pro at this. But, the second one, well, that one was disastrous. I lost my balance and started tipping, overcorrected, and almost ate the floor anyway.

  Instead of laughing as he watched me sprawled over the floor, as I’d half expected him to do, Nick reached out a hand and steadied me, not letting go until I was back on two feet.

  My face was blood red, and no amount of makeup, contouring, and highlighting could hide it. This day just couldn’t get any better. Yes, that was sarcasm. I was the mother-effing queen of sarcasm and snark.

  My snark was no match for his charming grin and ease though, so it died out before I had a chance to test it on him. Instead, I nodded amiably and went along. Something I was not known for. I was in uncharted territory here.

  Both feet firmly on the ground, he threw an arm over my shoulders and gave me a friendly squeeze. I snagged my bag with my ID and credit cards and walked, tucked under his shoulder, through the apartment, and out the door.

  We walked down the hall and into the elevator, steps in sync, and not speaking a word. It was as weird as it was comforting.

  I stayed tucked under his arm until we hit the lobby. The older, perfectly groomed gentleman behind the desk asked, “Will you require a car, Mr. Foster?”

  Nick looked pointedly down at my feet and nodded, “I don’t think it wise to ask a lady like this to walk in shoes such as these.”

  With a knowing grin, he nodde
d and said, “Excellent, Mr. Foster.”

  Before I could catch my breath, I was whisked away in a limo, and we were pulling up next to one of the fanciest restaurants in town. Nick helped me from the car and led the way through the throng of people waiting their turn for a table.

  You’d think this would be surprising, but I’d been out with men who would walk into a restaurant and be ushered straight to a table, and once the waitstaff actually moved the diners at a table to another area.

  Money bought power.

  We were quickly shown to our table, and luckily no one was rushed from their seats. The waiter gave a small bow and spun smartly on his heel and hurried away. I turned my attention to Nick and widened my eyes.

  He laughed out loud. It was beautiful and inspiring.

  I could write sonnets to that laugh.

  Wax poetical on the way it sent thrills through me.

  Instead, I shook out my napkin and laid it over my dress.

  His eyes landed on my cleavage for a moment before they flicked away. I busied myself, lining the silverware up perfectly, though it already had been. I got fidgety when I was nervous, though I was rarely nervous in this situation anymore.

  “Harlow?”

  I looked up at him. His face was warm and soft, his eyes searching. I didn’t speak.

  “You have a beautiful name. Is it a family name?”

  I snorted, then jerked a hand up to cover my mouth. Why the hell had I done that?

  I cleared my throat and sucked in a deep breath, I was acting like a ninny, and I needed to get it together now.

  “Not really, no. More of a,” I floundered then recovered, “one-off.” There was no way I could tell him what my real name was.

  The name I’d had before.

  Before, I’d lost everything.

  Not that I’d ever had much, to begin with.

  He studied my face, and whatever he read there gave him pause. I watched as he made the decision to let it go. Then he shocked me.

  “So, how did you get so tight with my uncle?”

  “Your uncle?” I wracked my brain. Was he talking about Ted? Or Rico?

  He answered my question before I voiced it, “Uncle Rico. Brother of my mother. The only sane person in the family.”

  Rico had a family?

  I felt ashamed that I hadn’t known that.

  “Don’t.” His voice was firm but still held warmth.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t feel guilty. I’m the only one he acknowledges, and I’m rarely around. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  And just how did he know that?

  Clearly, I was an open book with him because he had an answer for my thoughts as well, “It’s written all over your face, Baby Doll.”

  That bore more thinking at a later time, a time when he didn’t have an up-close view of my facial expressions. Instead, I answered his initial question, kind of, “Rico was one of the first people I met when I moved out here.”

  I thought about it for a second then asked a question of my own, “Why didn’t he tell me you were his nephew when he was trying to sell me on this gig?”

  Something moved behind his eyes then he answered, though I sensed he was holding back, “Rico didn’t want you to agree to spend time with me out of loyalty to him. He wanted it to be completely your decision. I agreed.”

  I pursed my lips and lowered my lashes, softening further. It was a good answer. I loved that pain in the ass, and the next time I saw him, I was going to lay a big, sloppy, wet one on him. Not out of lust, but out of love for the man who stood in as my father and more than made up for the one I shared DNA with.

  “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

  My breath caught in my throat, and I choked for a second. I’d been called beautiful before. I knew I wasn’t ugly by any means, but for him to just lay it out in that voice that was raw with its honesty, it shook me.

  What did I say?

  Thanks?

  You too?

  How could I express that he had just shaken me to the core with his words, but more, in the way he spoke them?

  He saved me from figuring it out, “I know you know you’re beautiful, how can you not, with that face and that body? But, it’s something deeper than that. I don’t know if I want to strip your clothes off with my teeth and ravish you until you can’t move or fall to my knees and worship at your feet.”

  Oh. My. Gosh.

  The waiter showed up with a bottle of wine, saving me from finding a response. My pulse thundered through me, my mouth had gone bone dry, but my heart felt fluttery and light.

  The waiter showed Nick the bottle, and he spared only the quickest of glances at it before nodding and shifting his intense focus back to me. I had the feeling that he was studying me, looking for a crack or crevice, some way to wiggle his way into my soul.

  I wasn’t even making sense to myself, but this whole experience was surreal.

  A predatory look moved into his eyes as he watched my reaction, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he seemed satisfied.

  Our glasses were filled, and the waiter turned smartly once again and moved away.

  Uncaring of what wine he’d chosen, I jerkily snatched my glass and tipped it to my lips. Anything to give myself even a second to figure out what was happening.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t work. I was no closer to understanding what was going on now than I had been moments before.

  My hand shook as I set the crystal glass back on the table and picked up my napkin to dab lightly at my lips.

  He waited, not speaking or really moving, just studying me. I felt like I was being hunted. Like if he pounced, I would be eaten alive; and I was equal parts worried and intrigued.

  He waited until our meals were served, meals we hadn’t ordered. Pretending that I had some measure of cool left in me, I lifted an eyebrow and asked, “You ordered for me?”

  The grin came back, heating a path from my face to my heart. Damn. I was going to be in big, big trouble if I wasn’t really careful.

  “I made our reservations yesterday after I saw you at Lush. I knew I wanted you, even if just for your company, though I assure you, Baby Doll, I want so much more than that. I wanted, I needed, and I hoped. I wanted you right where you are. So, I planned ahead. The best wine on offer, only the most prime cut of steak; everything I could think of to ensure you don’t regret making a reckless choice and throwing in your lot with me, even if it’s only for one week.”

  There was a lot there. First and foremost, the way he’d said, “even if it’s only,” but I wasn’t going to let that sink in just yet. There’d be time later tonight after I’d offered him the arm candy he was paying for, and I’d returned to the sanctity of my room. For now, I wasn’t going to think.

  My client was gorgeous. He was related to someone I loved dearly, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree.

  Twice.

  At the very least.

  I’d never had a fling with a client. I’d never hinted at anything even remotely inappropriate, and it had been a long time since I’d felt a man’s hand slide over my curves and bring me pleasure.

  With that in mind, I locked my emotions, and please God, my heart away and settled into flirting and sipping the smoothest wine I’d had in ages. I let my lips curl up, dimples on display, and pulled out the woman who’d brazenly flirted with the drop-dead gorgeous stranger the night before.

  I leaned forward, well aware the vee in my dress gave him a pretty spectacular view and didn’t even have to fake the huskiness in my voice when I informed him, “No regrets in sight, handsome. Now tell me more about what you plan to do with those teeth.”

  His wicked laugh caused a quiver deep down inside.

  This was going to be fun.

  Chapter Five

  I sat awkwardly on a hard, very uncomfortable seat, a chair that had been created purely for aesthetics and not comfort, crossing and uncrossing my legs, trying not to shift too much and dra
w attention to myself.

  The chair was hard, I was hot, and Nick was up; his stack of chips growing and growing with each hand.

  He’d explained it on the way over, twenty hands, ten men to a table, ten tables in the tournament. At the end of the night, whoever had the most chips after the twentieth hand was the winner and would move on to the second game, which would be played on Wednesday night.

  Wednesday would be ten men and two tables, and the winners of each table would face-off on Friday in a winner takes all game.

  I shifted again as the ninth hand was dealt and glanced up when a slinky, definitely slutty blonde perched on the arm of my chair, ex-cu-se me and lifted her wine glass to her face. She didn’t take a sip, only used it to hide her mouth as she purred to me, “How do you know our guy?”

  I wasn’t sure what the story was between them, but what I did know was that she was a bitch and she was talking about Nick. I wasn’t being ugly either. Call it female intuition, the way we recognized a woman who was out to shake things up for another member of the sisterhood.

  This woman had drama and manipulation seeping from her pores like she’d bathed in her granny’s ninety-year-old bottle of knock-off perfume. She was out to cause trouble, and I wasn’t buying it.

  “Oh, Nicky?” I simpered ridiculously, “he’s a friend of the family,” I winked insinuatingly, “if you know what I mean.” There. Let her chew on that for a little bit.

  The last hand was called, and all the cards were thrown in the middle of the table for the dealer to organize. Chips were stacked, and they rose from their seats.

  My newest best bud stayed seated on the arm of my chair as we both watched as Nick moved to the suited man holding a tray of red wine-filled glasses. He scooped up two and met my eyes.

  That naughty, secretive grin assured me that I had read the situation, whatever it was, with the blonde, correctly. He wouldn’t be so focused on me if he had something to hide.

  As far as I could tell, he hadn’t even noticed the other woman. He was that focused on me.

  I heated all the way through and struggled to ignore the way my belly flipped at that look.