She could feel the hardness of his aroused manhood pressing insistently against her hip now, felt the rigidity of his body as the passion in him swelled. Her own body responded with a deep, quivering longing that shocked her senses.
“You see how perfectly we mesh?” Jordan asked whimsically, nudging her head with his hand until Alyssa was once more obliged to glance into the mirrors. She lowered her eyes from the sight of herself entwined so closely in his embrace, but this time she was forced to admit that it hadn’t elicited uncertainty. Rather, she felt another wave of excitement wash across her. Her nails curled of their own volition into the skin of his shoulders, and when she turned her face back against his chest, her teeth nipped daringly.
Jordan groaned and slipped his hands down to her buttocks, letting his fingers slide erotically into the cleft between them. “Whoever shuffled the deck tonight knew what he was doing. Everything’s coming up aces.”
Alyssa gasped aloud as he used his sensuous hold to lift her a few inches off the floor and force her against the bold demand of his hips. Then her head spun as he carried her that way across the room and set her down onto the red velvet bed.
When she opened her eyes again, Alyssa found herself once more gazing at the sight of her naked body reflected in a mirror, this time the circular one lining the overhead canopy.
“Oh, no!”
Seeing the direction of her gaze, Jordan looked up and grinned appreciatively. When his eyes found her again, Alyssa knew she was flushing vividly. A blatant male hunger prowled in those eyes, waiting to satisfy itself. But that was only fair, she thought suddenly. It had a feminine counterpart deep in the core of her. She wanted this man in a way she had never known before. Wordlessly, she held open her arms.
“Alyssa!” He came down to her quickly, gathering her to him. “I want you so!”
Alyssa forgot about the canopy mirror, forgot about the garish room and the circular bed. She forgot she was with a man she had met only a few hours earlier and about whom she knew almost nothing except that when it came to math, his mind worked rather like her own. All that mattered was that he wanted her and had made her want him with a passion that matched his. The future was forgotten as she played the hand fate had dealt her.
Her body gloried beneath the caresses he administered, shivering and twisting and curling in response. Never would she forget his hands, she thought vaguely as he stroked a line of fire up the inside of her thigh. Wonderful, exquisitely aware fingers, full of strength and power, totally unlike those of any other man in the world, she was certain.
Anxious to please and satisfy in turn, Alyssa explored the contours of his back with her palms, loving the hard feel of him. The muscular planes of his buttocks knew the punishment of her nails, and Jordan groaned beneath it. Pushing her firmly onto her back, he found the taut peak of one breast with his tongue and lips.
Again and again, Alyssa moaned beneath his touch. He trailed tantalizing patterns along every inch of her body from ankle to throat and used his knee to open her legs. Lying half over her in a heavy, passionate sprawl, he whispered incredibly erotic words, words that should have shocked but only served to heighten her own need.
“Now, Jordan, please, now!” She lifted her hips, inviting him into her as, head tipped back across his cradling arm, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and begged for him.
He caught one of her wrists, urging her hand down his flat stomach to the waiting hardness of him. “Take me, sweetheart. Take me in your soft hand and lead me.”
She knew what he was asking; no, demanding. He wanted her to somehow acknowledge that she was a willing player in this dangerous game. Jordan was insisting now that she participate to the fullest. Was he also asking for reassurance? Some final proof that she was as eager and receptive as her body implied?
Whatever the reasons, Alyssa was beyond analyzing them. Her fingers obeyed his husky instructions, thrilling to the feel of him in her hand. Gently, a little timidly, she invited him to follow where she led.
“Oh, God, Alyssa!”
Whatever his intentions, Jordan was unable to play the cards as slowly and tantalizingly as Alyssa sensed he had wanted to do. When her thighs parted, lifting to meet him, he seemed to lose his control. Instead of allowing her to finish her task, he shifted his weight with sudden emphasis, storming her body.
“Sweetheart!”
“Jordan!” His name came in a breathless gasp as he took charge of the hand fate had dealt. He wrapped her tightly against him, surging into her softness and leaving her no option but to respond. Alyssa knew in that moment that although their meeting might have been a matter of chance, Jordan Kyle had no intention of ever letting her forget it. He imprinted his body on hers with all the male power at his command.
He had been every inch the gentleman earlier in the evening, but now there was no gentlemanly attempt to ease the impact of his weight on her body. Jordan made no pretense of using his arms to support himself partially. It was as if he intended she should remember everything about him, including the way his hard frame crushed her luxuriously into the red velvet bedspread.
Her head spinning like a roulette wheel, Alyssa gave herself up completely to the passion of the moment. She clung to the man above her, legs wrapped tightly around his lean hips, her arms around his neck. It was as if Jordan were a dealer who spun the cards out much too fast. There was no opportunity to keep track of them or to figure the odds as the deck was played out. All she could do was accept each new one as it came.
And then she suddenly found herself holding too many cards. There was an unbearable moment of tension, and then the whole pack seemed to explode around her. Her body rippled in Jordan’s arms, convulsing in a way that brought a hoarse shout of satisfaction from his own lips. A few seconds later, he was joining her in the release.
Down she tumbled in his arms, dazed and awed at the result of the gamble she had taken. Never had she known anything like this. Never had she known a man who could bring her so fully alive to the bounty of her own senses. For long moments, she lay still, enjoying the feel of his relaxed body lying along hers, knowing a purely feminine satisfaction in having pleased him.
Then she made the mistake of opening her eyes.
“Oh, lord!”
“What’s wrong, honey?” Reluctantly, Jordan lifted his head from the comfortable place he had discovered for himself on her breast. Framing her head between his arms he looked down at her, an expression of drowsy contentment in his golden eyes. He used his forefinger to smooth aside a tendril of tangled auburn hair.
“Nothing,” she said, grimacing wryly. “Just don’t look up.”
Her body, lying tangled with his on the red velvet spread, was clearly reflected in the canopy mirror. After one glimpse, Alyssa refused to look up again. In that one glance, she had seen herself as another woman altogether. A sensuous, rather reckless, totally satisfied female lying trapped beneath the hard male body that had brought her such satisfaction. She looked, Alyssa realized belatedly, exactly as a mysterious lady gambler would look after meeting her equally mysterious male counterpart.
It was just that she had never really expected to find a counterpart. It had all been intended as fantasy. An amusing way to spend a weekend and make some easy money. What in the world had happened to her?
Jordan’s mouth crooked in a wickedly amused smile. “I have no desire to look up. The sight of my own backside doesn’t particularly intrigue me, and as far as you’re concerned, I prefer the view from down here. Much closer.” He feathered a light kiss on her temple and another on her throat. “And the truth is, honey, you look very good lying here beneath me. Perfect, in fact.”
Alyssa braved another glimpse in the mirror overhead. “Actually, your backside is a little more intriguing than you might think.” She pinched him in an experimental fashion.
“Ouch! If that’s the way you’re going to show your appreciation, I’m going to deny you the view!”
He rolled to one sid
e, pulling her with him. With a deft movement, Jordan shoved the red velvet bedspread to the carpet, revealing gold sheets. Deftly, he tucked her underneath and followed. When she glanced up at their image in the canopy mirror, it was to see herself modestly swathed to the throat in a sheet. Alyssa glanced around the red plush room and started to smile. A pleasantly dazed, languid sensation was protecting her now from reality.
“What’s so funny?” Jordan demanded easily, folding his arms behind his head and watching her.
“I just realized. The Porsche that I’m going to buy—It’s almost the same shade of red as this room! I think when I finally get ready to place the order, I might change the color.”
“No, don’t do that.” He reached for her, tugging her across his chest. His golden eyes gleamed very brilliantly. “Get the red one. That way, whenever you drive it, you’ll think of this night and this room.”
The laughter went out of her in the face of his intensity. Abruptly, the truth of what he was saying made itself felt. But she had no need to buy a red car in order to make herself remember what had happened this weekend. Alyssa knew she would never forget this night, this room or this man.
That realization brought with it another: no matter what happened this weekend, she must be certain that no one in her real world ever discovered the fantasy she had created for herself. The lifestyle and the career she valued so much would be put in jeopardy if the truth were ever known.
Jordan must have seen the flicker of wariness that came and went in her sea-colored eyes because abruptly he cradled her face between his hands and pulled her close for a warm, lingering kiss. She felt his body hardening under hers and lifted her lashes to gaze down at him wonderingly.
“Jordan?”
His eyes laughed up at her with the promise of renewed passion. “I said the sight of my own backside in that mirror didn’t particularly intrigue me. Yours, however, is another matter.”
“Jordan!”
But he had already thrown the sheet off her and was guiding her body astride his. His warm, strong hands gently circled her waist, urging her to him completely, and as she obeyed, Alyssa forgot about the overhead mirror, the red Porsche and the threat to her career that this weekend represented.
She gave herself up again to the fantasy and the man who had brought it to life.
CHAPTER THREE
THE FIRST THING ALYSSA SAW THE NEXT morning when she opened her eyes was Jordan Kyle calmly going through her purse. He was standing unabashedly naked beside the low table where she had thoughtlessly dropped the sequined mesh evening bag the night before. The money she had won was neatly stacked on the table, and he was flipping interestedly through the calfskin wallet when he noticed she was awake.
“Good morning, Alyssa Meredith Chandler of Ventura, California. And happy belated birthday.” Jordan glanced back down at the date on her driver’s license. “Let’s see, you turned thirty last week, didn’t you?”
Alyssa lay very still beneath the gold sheet, her eyes never leaving the face of the stranger who had become her lover. Dear God, what had happened to her? How could she have been so incredibly stupid? Was she about to become the victim of a professional thief who made a practice of seducing women who had won at the tables and then robbing them? The thoughts flickered through her mind as her hand tightened on the sheet at her throat.
Jordan glanced up again from the driver’s license, and his gaze narrowed as he took in the stark, uncomprehending expression on Alyssa’s features. Her auburn hair was tangled from where he had run his hands through it during the night, and her mouth had a vulnerable, almost-bruised fullness about it. The sea-green eyes were wide and cautious, holding no sign of the hidden laughter that normally lurked just below the surface. There was a faintly reddened area on the soft skin of her throat, and the sight of it elicited a short, disgusted oath.
“Hell, I should have remembered to shave before taking you to bed last night.” He raised a hand to the shadow of an incipient beard on his jaw and simultaneously tossed the wallet down beside the money. “I’m afraid I’ve marked you, sweetheart. My only excuse is that I wasn’t thinking very clearly by the time I got you back to the room!”
Alyssa watched him warily as he came toward her. He seemed very much a lean, male animal in the morning sunlight. Without the sophisticated veneer of his evening clothes, there was little trace of last night’s gentleman gambler about Jordan Kyle this morning. The fear that had awakened in her a few minutes before when she’d opened her eyes to find him systematically going through her purse went up another notch. Her body was a slender, taut length outlined by the gold sheet.
“Alyssa Meredith Chandler. Age thirty and a couple of days. Resides in Ventura, California, and works as a statistician for a company called Yeoman Research.” Jordan repeated what he had learned about her as if savoring each small fact. He leaned down as he reached the bed, planting a palm on either side of her body to form a cage with his arms, trapping her. “And unmarried. Thank God.” The golden eyes burned over her tense face.
“Do you always go through a woman’s purse the morning after?” Alyssa muttered, trying for some semblance of bravado. A semblance was all it was. She didn’t feel particularly brave lying there with him looming over her like some vengeful devil. Yes, devil. Hadn’t they once called casinos “gambling hells”? And with those golden eyes and those hands…Her body heated uncomfortably at the memory of those hands on it.
“Last night,” Jordan told her carefully, “I wanted you too badly to risk asking too many questions. This morning, when I woke up, I realized just how little I knew about you. It occurred to me, in fact, that you might even be married. I had to get some answers, honey, and I wasn’t too sure you’d be willing to part with them. That didn’t leave me much choice. But you’re not married, are you?”
“Would it matter?”
“Are you?” This time the question was dangerous.
“No. Not anymore,” she whispered starkly. “Are you?”
“No. We’re a little late with some of the more pertinent questions, aren’t we? But I suppose better late than never.”
A sense of indignation began to eat away at the uncertain fear he had inspired in her. “Can I assume from the tone of this inquisition that you really are just curious about me? You’re not planning to take my money and disappear?”
One dark brow lifted deliberately. “Is that what you thought I was doing when you woke up? Getting ready to steal last night’s winnings?”
“The thought crossed my mind.” Alyssa struggled up onto one elbow, but he didn’t remove his caging arms. The lean power in his nude body seemed to be reaching out to suffocate her. She felt trapped, and she was far too aware of the strength in him. She should be. Her body still ached from it. “After all, I don’t know any more about you than you know about me.”
He stared at her broodingly for a long moment. “No. You probably don’t. Last night, in the heat of passion, I told myself that once I had you in bed, all the questions would be answered. I thought we’d know each other very well by this morning. And we do in some ways. I just hadn’t realized how many questions there would remain to be asked. I seem to have developed an insatiable curiosity about you, Alyssa Meredith Chandler. I want to know everything there is to know, and taking you to bed only gave me some of the answers. My biggest single fear when I opened my eyes and saw you lying there beside me was that I might have been cast in the role of the other man.”
“Somehow I don’t see you playing that part,” she retorted caustically.
“Neither do I,” he agreed a little too blandly. “But given the fact that I went to sleep without even learning your last name, it was a distinct possibility.”
“You’re in a rather negative mood this morning, aren’t you?” she observed. “Do I get to go through your wallet now?” It was only a faint sally, and Alyssa was rather surprised when it worked. She hadn’t really expected him to free her and walk across the room to fish the eleg
antly thin leather billfold out of the pocket of his slacks, but he did. She sucked in her breath in temporary relief as his weight left the bed.
Wordlessly, he strode back across the room and dropped the wallet on her lap. Then he lounged at the foot of the bed and waited while she flipped through it.
Feeling awkward at riffling through his personal things but not knowing what else to do now that she had demanded to see them, Alyssa hurriedly flipped through the few items. The driver’s license was issued to one Jordan Kyle at an Oregon address. Alyssa automatically calculated his age from the birth date given and came up with thirty-nine. She had been right when she’d suspected he was dangerously near the forty-year mark.
“Hmmm,” she noted with an unexpected surge of wry amusement. “No visible means of support. How does a professional get credit cards?” She held up a couple of pieces of the magic plastic.
His mouth curved wryly. “It’s not easy. Not at first. Eventually, the bank stops asking questions when one’s account becomes sufficiently large.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
“You don’t have that problem. After all, you have a real job. Honest employment. Banks love people like you.”
She glanced up, surprised by the curious note in his voice. He looked half intrigued and half wary. The thought crossed her mind very briefly that he seemed almost envious. No, that was crazy. He was the one with the exotic lifestyle, living the fantasy to the hilt. She only dropped in on the illusion occasionally.
“I have the feeling that your bank is probably lots more in love with you than mine is with me. Something tells me your account is considerably more established. After all, I’ve just started, uh, supplementing mine.”
“What do you tell people when you blow your ill-gotten gains on something frivolous? How will you explain the red Porsche when you buy it?” he asked deliberately.
Gambler's Woman Page 4
