The Gamble

by Kristen Ashley

  “Nina, honestly, it doesn’t matter. It could be one, two, three, four.”

  I shook my head in horror and advised, “It can’t be one, two, three, four. That’s way too easy to hack.”

  “Considerin’ I check my e-mail about once every three months, dump most of it, check the weather every once in awhile and got nothin’ else on there, ain’t nothin’ to hack.”

  I sighed and explained, “Yes but you rent this place and other people could use it, look up porn, maybe even icky stuff.”

  He grinned. “Icky stuff?”

  I ignored his grin and the way it communicated he thought I was adorable (and the way that made me feel) and continued, “Icky stuff, icky stuff that could get you into trouble. Don’t you watch television?”

  “Not much.”

  “Well, your every day pedophile probably wouldn’t hesitate renting a beautiful, A-Frame in the mountains and enjoying himself by accessing your one, two, three, four computer.”

  “Jesus, darlin’.”

  “Sick people are everywhere. Just watch Criminal Minds.”

  “If that’s their subject matter, I’m thinkin’ I’ll avoid it.”

  “It’s really good,” I told him, warming to my topic because I liked that show and therefore I idiotically lost myself and did not keep my mouth shut. “They have this really smart, genius guy who’s fascinating. And this really sharp, tough lady. And this hilarious computer mastermind who wears funky clothes and always has perfect lipstick. And they almost always get the bad guy.”

  He was grinning down at me again when he muttered, “Sounds like I’m missin’ out.”

  “It’s worth it just for Penelope Garcia’s lipstick and the stuff she wears in her hair, trust me,” I shared.

  I stopped talking when I saw his eyes start glittering and his body start shaking and his face definitely said he thought I was adorable.

  Instead, I looked at the computer and got down to business, clicking through the screens to take me to the window that changed the password and I asked, “What’s your favorite number?”

  “Lucky number’s three.”

  I pulled in breath through my nostrils. That was my favorite number.

  And it was Charlie’s.

  “Okay, then, something three…” I prompted.

  “Make it up, Nina.”

  “Give me something to go on.”

  “Just make it up, I’ll write it down and hide it somewhere.”

  I looked up at him. “Max –”

  He cut me off and said, “Three duchess three.”

  I wasn’t certain but I was pretty sure I felt the blood draining from my face.

  I didn’t shift my eyes from the screen when I asked, “Sorry?”

  “Three duchess three, I won’t forget that.”

  “But –”

  “Type it in, babe.”

  “But, Max –”

  “Type it in.”

  I sat there paralyzed and when I didn’t move Max leaned into me, picking out the letters on the keyboard with one finger then again to confirm then his hand covered mine on the mouse and he clicked “OK”.

  His hand still on mine on the mouse, he twisted his head to look at me and he said, “That should do it.”

  “I have to go,” I blurted and watched his brows draw together.

  “What?”

  I slid my hand from under his, rolled the chair away as he straightened and I stood, repeating, “I’ve got to go.” I held out my hand, palm up and requested, “Can I have my car keys?”

  His brows were still knitted when he asked, “Where you goin’?”

  “To town.”

  “To shop?”

  “To check into the hotel.”

  He took a step toward me murmuring, “Duchess.”

  I took a step back.

  He stopped, his brows snapped together again and his face grew dark.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Thanks for, you know, today and last night and everything but, I have to go.”

  “Why?”

  Why?

  There were so many reasons we’d both be eighty if I took the time to enumerate them all.

  “I just do.”

  “Give me a reason.”

  “Max –”

  “One,” he demanded firmly.

  “Okay,” I said to get it over with, “maybe I’ve got it wrong, what’s happening here, but if I don’t perhaps I should remind you, I’m wearing another man’s engagement ring.”

  “You don’t gotta remind me, Duchess, you gotta remind you.”

  Oh drat.

  I was getting angry, I could feel it.

  “I’m sorry?” I said quietly.

  “No woman had my ring on her finger when I got into bed with you last night.”

  “Yes, well,” I leaned toward him, “I’m glad you brought that up.”

  “Because you’re pissed I did it?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then why’d you wake up at two and stay in bed with me until mornin’?”

  I stared at him at a loss for words mainly because any explanation I could give him I was never going to give him. And I realized, belatedly, even if it was to give him something as important as a rock solid alibi when the police popped by to question him as a potential murder suspect, perhaps I shouldn’t have shared that tidbit.

  Then I announced, “I’m leaving,” and I started to walk around him but he took a quick step to his left and caught me by the waist, pulling me in front of him. “Take your hands off me!” I snapped but his arms wrapped around me tight, bringing me up full frontal to his body.

  “This is something we both wanna explore,” he declared, my eyes narrowed and I wedged my arms between us, my hands against his chest.

  “This?”

  “What we got, what’s happenin’ here, you and me.”

  “It is not!”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  He looked over my head and clipped out, “Christ, you’re full of shit.”

  “I am not!”

  He looked back at me, giving me a shake. “Oh yeah, Nina, you are.”

  “You don’t even know me!”

  “I know enough I wanna know more.”

  “Well, you can’t know more. I’m leaving.”

  “You’re stayin’.”

  “You can’t keep me here.”

  “I can.”

  “That’s –”

  “And you wanna stay.”

  I shook my head in disbelief and cried, “You’re infuriating!”

  “And you love every fuckin’ second.”

  My mouth made a “poof” noise at such a display of arrogance and I pushed against his chest. His hand slid up my spine, bringing me closer, pinning my hands between us as I watched his neck bend.

  I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

  “Max,” I warned, my body bracing.

  “Quiet,” he ordered softly. “Got a point to make, honey.”

  “Max!” I snapped.

  “Let’s see how good this could be,” he muttered, his eyes on my mouth and I knew, I just knew, he was going to kiss me.

  “Max, don’t you –”

  But his fingers had sifted into my hair against my scalp cupping my head, holding me steady and his mouth came down on mine, cutting off my words.

  And considering my mouth was open, he didn’t miss the opportunity to slide his tongue inside.

  My body froze when his tongue touched mine.

  Then my hands curled into his shirt and my body melted.

  His tongue felt good, it tasted good, it was all just good. Not just good. It was better than good. I missed this, I loved kissing and, Lord, did I miss it.

  My eyes drifted closed, my head tilted and that was it, I was lost.

  And then Max really kissed me and I became so lost, I never wanted to be found.

  It wasn’t good.

  It was astounding. He was just as amazing a kisser as he looked
amazing, maybe more, and that was saying something.

  My toes curled in my boots, my hands glided up his chest to wrap my arms around his neck, my body pressed the length of his and my stomach did a somersault before it plummeted in a delicious way. I felt a tingle between my legs that was more than delicious, it was luscious and, given all of that, I had no choice but to open myself up to him.

  And I did.

  When I did, Max took and he took and he took. And I gave and I didn’t care if he drained me dry, in fact, I wanted him to.

  His mouth broke from mine, his head came up, my fingers which were in his hair put on pressure and he whispered, his gravelly voice actually hoarse, “Jesus, honey.”

  “More,” I breathed, not even opening my eyes and his mouth came back to mine, he gave me what I wanted and I loved every bleeding second.

  Somewhere in the back of my head, I realized he was moving, taking me with him, shuffling us what I understood was toward the couch and I was happy to be going there, couldn’t wait to get there, couldn’t wait to explore Max more and let him explore me, when the phone rang.

  On the second ring, Max’s head came up and he stopped our movement.

  “Don’t.” It sounded like a plea and it was coming from my mouth

  “I’ve gotta, Duchess.” His voice was still rough and he sounded like he didn’t want to but when his arm left my waist and his palm touched my cheek, I opened my eyes and saw in his face that I was right, he didn’t want to but he had to. “Don’t lose that look,” he ordered, bent forward, kissed my forehead then let me go and with long strides, walked to the phone on top of the roll top.

  I watched him go and listened to him answer with a, “Yeah?”

  I shook my head trying to clear it but I could still feel his arms around me; his lips on mine; his tongue in my mouth; his soft, thick hair under my hands; his hard body against mine and I wanted it back. I couldn’t shake off that feeling of want even though I tried. It was like it was born in me, natural, everything I was or everything I was meant to be and there was no way to get rid of it.

  “Now?” Max asked, sounding incredulous and a bit annoyed but also sounding like he was trying to hide both. “Okay, yeah, calm down. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I stared at him as his eyes sliced to me, his face wasn’t soft with desire like it had been five seconds ago, it was tight and impatient. “Yeah, I said I’d take care of this, I’ll take care of it.” Another pause and he didn’t unlock his eyes from mine before he said softly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. Fifteen.”

  Then he hit the button for off, it beeped and I felt my body twitch at the sound. Sanity was returning but Max was right in front of me, impeding its progress.

  “I gotta go.”

  I just nodded.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  I nodded again.

  “Duchess, you with me?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “I’m takin’ your car keys with me,” he announced.

  “Okay,” I replied instantly.

  His hands came to either side of my head and he tipped it back as he got closer. I saw his face was back to soft and he looked almost relieved.

  “I made my point, didn’t I?”

  Oh, he made his point.

  “Yes,” I whispered again.

  “We’ll finish when I get home.”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what he meant, finish talking or finish making our way to the couch so I could act like an even bigger idiot and behave like a screaming bitch besides.

  “Nina?”

  “It sounds like something important.”

  “It is or there’s no fuckin’ way I’d go.” His hands at my head brought me closer and he finished, “I’ll explain later.”

  “You better get going,” I told him.

  I felt one of his hands come down to my neck then his thumb slid along my jaw.

  “Be good,” he whispered.

  “I’ll try,” I whispered back, his eyes moved over my face then he bent his neck, touched his mouth to mine, giving me an exquisite, sweet, light kiss that was much like his forehead kiss except a whole lot better and let me go.

  I watched him go to the closet, he disappeared behind the door, came out, shrugging on a canvas coat, his eyes came to me and he ordered, “Stay awake.”

  “Okay.”

  He lifted his chin and then he walked out the door.

  I wandered to the computer even though I wanted to watch him leave, I didn’t want him to see me watching.

  I pulled the chair up to the roll top then I sat down and clicked into the internet browser in order to access my webmail.

  I heard the Cherokee depart as I typed in the web address then my username and password. I heard silence when I clicked on “compose” and more silence as I typed in Niles’s e-mail address.

  Then I spent the next two hours writing to my fiancé explaining, in detail, what a timeout meant; what it meant that he didn’t know how I took my coffee; what it meant that he didn’t understand how much it hurt when he asked me to sell Charlie’s house; how lonely I was, even when I was with him; how it felt, him not making love to me, being affectionate, making me feel desired or desirable; how much it bothered me that, even though I’d talked to him about all of this, even wrote him other e-mails, it didn’t ever seem to penetrate; and lastly, the part that took the most time, how it wasn’t going to work out between us. Then I told him I’d call him in a few days and we would talk. Then I read it, edited it, read it again, added more, read it again, changed a few things, then I hit send.

  It disappeared and I stared at the screen showing a list of my e-mails.

  Well done, sweetheart, Charlie whispered in my ear.

  He sounded sad but proud.

  I started crying.

  Chapter Five

  Charlie

  I opened my eyes, blinked at the bright sunlight and smelled bacon cooking.

  I was alone in Max’s bed. Max, evidently, was downstairs cooking breakfast.

  I rolled to my back and stared at the point in the A-Frame ceiling.

  After sending my e-mail to Niles and crying my eyes out – so much, I had to move to the chair by the couch, curl in it holding a toss pillow to my chest in order to give myself a comfortable cocoon while letting go a part of my life that was once important to me, in fact I thought it was going to be my entire future but I’d figured out wasn’t so important anymore – I cleaned up my face. Then I threw another log on the fire. Then I stared at the log burning, trying to sort out my head. Then I failed at sorting out my head. Then when it got late, I made dinner for one and ate cookies for dessert. Then I read until it got later. Then when it got really late, I changed into my nightgown, put in a movie, slid into bed and, again, obviously, fell asleep while watching it.

  Now, clearly, it was morning and Max was home.

  And he said when he came home, we would finish.

  And as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I decided I was going to have to figure out a way to tell him I wasn’t ready for us to finish in whatever way that would come. I wasn’t ready for what was happening in his A-Frame on my Colorado adventure. I wasn’t ready to explore what was going on between him and me.

  I wanted to, honest to goodness, I wanted it so badly it felt like an ache.

  But I was coming to terms with my life changing in one way. In fact, I had realized the day before as I stared at Max’s fire, I knew before I even took this timeout that Niles and I were never going to work and I realized that I’d known that for a long time. I’d either fallen out of love with him or he’d bored the love out of me. But before I even left I had understood somewhere in head that I simply needed distance to come to that conclusion and that distance would give me the courage to carry it through.

  Therefore, I couldn’t process, nor did I want to, the colossal shift back to Nina of Old. Nina who opened her heart, let loose, took adventures and even more risks. Nina who did that and g
ot her heart trampled and her head messed with for her troubles.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to play it safe and be smart, sane and rational every second with every nuance of my life.

  I was sure I’d learned my lessons way back when and I wasn’t going back to that.

  I couldn’t live the life that I was living with Niles, I’d come to terms with that.

  And I couldn’t go back to who I used to be. Heartbreak lay down that road, heck, it was paved with it.

  And Holden Maxwell had heartbreak written all over him.

  I pulled myself out of bed, went to the bathroom, did my routine and then, deciding on propriety in the face of our impending conversation, I walked to my suitcase and dug around until I found my wool robe. It was like a big, long, button-less, cardigan sweater that went down to my calves. It was creamy green and had a hood. It cost a fortune and it was lush.

  I shrugged it on, belted it up and headed downstairs to face Max. I hit the bottom, saw him in the kitchen and stopped dead.

  His back was to me and he was wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else. His shoulders, the muscles of his back, the wide expanse of smooth, tan skin, was all exposed to the naked eye and I was blinded by the beauty of it. So much, it was a wonder I didn’t throw out my hand and go reeling.

  At that thought, he turned and gave me a view of his chest.

  At this view, arguably better than his back, I sucked in breath then whispered to myself, “Oh my God.”

  “Hey baby,” he called, apparently (and luckily) not hearing me and headed my way.

  I stood immobile as he walked to me.

  He stopped in front of me, his head tipped down and his hand came to my jaw, tipping my head up.

  “You sleep okay?” he asked softly and I nodded. “Wake up at nine o’clock your time?” he went on and I shook my head. “Sorry I was out so late.” I shrugged and he grinned. “I see I got Nina Zombie.”

  “Um…” I muttered.

  He shook his head once still grinning then dipped his face and touched his mouth to mine. My toes curled.

  “Look after the bacon, will you?” he said when he lifted his head. “I’m gonna go put on some clothes.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “Might be good you get some coffee in you before you get near sizzling bacon grease,” he advised, still amused.