Gambler's Woman

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “They didn’t know where else to turn. Ray refused to go to his relatives because they’ve been so disapproving of his lifestyle. Julia simply doesn’t have any relatives who could afford to help.” Alyssa edged toward the kitchen as she spoke, and Jordan followed like a hunting panther.

  “So they came to you for help?”

  “Unfortunately, I didn’t have that much ready cash on hand. My money was mostly tied up in the stock market, and the market’s been such a disaster area lately that I hated to sell shares at such a loss if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. The three of us spent an evening playing cards one night, discussing various possibilities, and I was winning game after game, as usual. It was only a friendly little game, no money involved. But I got to thinking later that I knew a lot about cards and dice and probabilities. I had studied them as object lessons for years. In addition, I seemed to have an intuition about numbers. I’m not sure it really has all that much to do with mathematics, this intuition. After all, there are a lot of mathematicians who can’t gamble successfully.” Her ex-husband had been one, she remembered.

  For the first time since he had confronted Ray in her doorway, Jordan’s expression softened slightly. “I know. And you don’t have to explain about that feeling of knowing what the cards will do next. I make my living on that kind of intuition, remember?”

  “You don’t have to remind me,” she snapped, annoyed. “I’m well aware of the fact.” She reached for the two plates of grapefruit and set them down on the kitchen table. Through the window, the surf could be seen crashing on the sand. It was a charming scene on most mornings. But not this morning. Nothing was charming about this morning.

  “Go on with the story,” Jordan instructed, crisply, sitting down at the round, glass-topped table.

  “There’s not much left to tell. Once I had started thinking in that direction, I couldn’t wait to see if I could make it work. I didn’t tell a soul where I was going or what I was planning to do. I just caught a flight to Vegas and plunged in with a stake of about two hundred dollars. By the end of the weekend, I had the three thousand. No one could have been more astonished than I was. I think, deep down, I hadn’t really expected the theories and the intuition to work. When I got home that Monday, I phoned Ray and told him I’d had a small windfall in the market and that I would be happy to let him have the profits for Julia’s medical care. The baby was born last week.” Alyssa looked down at her own grapefruit as she took the remaining seat. “It was a little girl. They named her after me.”

  Even in the midst of her battle with Jordan, that thought made her smile. She had been delighted and unaccountably touched when Ray and Julia had given her the news.

  There was a long silence from the other side of the table, and then the magic fingers swept out to cover her hand. “That must be nice,” Jordan said very gently. “Having a kid named after you. No one’s ever named a kid after me.”

  She glanced up to find him studying her with a new understanding in his eyes. For a few seconds, a strange communion flowed between them. Jordan, Alyssa realized abruptly, wasn’t the only one who had denied himself a family because of his lifestyle. Hadn’t she done the same for different reasons? She had been so intent on proving that she could be successful in her world of applied mathematics that nothing else had seemed to matter.

  A good salary, a good job title, a house on the beach. Those comprised the elements of success at her end of the mathematical spectrum. For her father and her ex-husband, it had been prestige and recognition at the highest academic levels. But success in any world required certain sacrifices. Suddenly, she wondered if the ones she had made were worth the success they had brought her.

  Jordan, too, must have made decisions along the line that had precluded his having a family. Professional gamblers didn’t need that kind of excess baggage. Did he sometimes regret those decisions?

  “Well, that’s the story,” she made herself say rather tartly as she dug into her grapefruit. The warm fingers, which had been idly caressing her hand, were withdrawn. It left her feeling a little bereft. Which was absolutely ridiculous, she told herself firmly.

  “Not quite,” he amended. “You got the money you needed for the emergency in which you were involved. But that wasn’t the end of it, was it, Alyssa? After all, you went back to Vegas.”

  “Unfortunately!”

  “That depends. Why did you go back, Alyssa?”

  “You know why!” She didn’t like being pressed this way. He wanted her to admit something that she didn’t wish to go into that morning.

  “I know why. I just want to hear you say it,” he goaded.

  “I went back because I had fun, damn you! I went back because it was like having another world to escape to whenever I felt the need!”

  “A fantasy world.”

  “Is there anything wrong with that?” she challenged.

  He appeared to take his time considering the question. She felt like using her grapefruit knife on his throat. “Nothing wrong, precisely,” he finally allowed judiciously. “But a bit reckless. Dangerous, perhaps.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” she grumbled. “I’ve already found out just how dangerous it can be!”

  He shrugged that off. “But you had fun in my world, didn’t you, Alyssa?”

  “Yes,” she bit out.

  “Just as I had fun in yours last night.”

  She blinked uncertainly. That knowledge bothered her for some strange reason. Jordan had enjoyed himself last night. She had seen the pleasure in his eyes from time to time as he answered a question from one of the other guests or told a story that elicited their laughter. He had been playing the role of respectable mathematician, and it had obviously appealed to him.

  It didn’t bother her particularly that he had enjoyed himself. What annoyed, worried and intrigued her was that a part of her had been happy for him. A part of her had taken pleasure in his pleasure, had wanted him to be happy. In spite of her anger and wariness, she realized she had found a curious satisfaction in having given him a measure of enjoyment by providing him with a new role to play. What a fool she was! This man had her tied in knots of silk!

  “So am I going to get an apology at least?” she demanded brashly, anxious to put a stop to her current line of thought.

  The lines bracketing the sides of his hard mouth tightened. “For kicking your friend Ray out the door when all he was attempting to do was pay off his loan? I’d say you got your own back when I let you get away with slapping me the way you did!”

  “You’re too generous,” she snapped.

  “I know,” he agreed placidly. “I’m a gentleman, you see. A scholar and a gentleman. Thanks to you.” He paused, peering at her as though debating something with himself. “Okay,” he finally said magnanimously, “I’m sorry I didn’t let you and Burgess explain everything at the door. Let’s do everyone concerned a favor, though, and not make a practice of having strange men arriving bright and early on your doorstep with thousand-dollar checks in their hands. If you need money,” he added a little gruffly, “I’ll give it to you.”

  That infuriated her. “I don’t need money! Yours or anyone else’s! I’m perfectly capable of paying my own way in life. I’ve got an excellent job and…and a way of making a little extra for the luxuries I want.”

  “It occurred to me you might be thinking of giving up gambling now that it’s gotten you into such an uncomfortable situation,” he returned blandly. “Is there anything else to go with this grapefruit?”

  “This isn’t a hotel, and I’m not room service!”

  “Good lord. You really are in a hell of a mood this morning, aren’t you?” he noted interestedly as he got to his feet and began searching through her cabinets. “Ah, here we go,” he added as he discovered a box of cereal.

  She watched him morosely as he puttered around her kitchen, finding a bowl and spoon and milk. “What am I going to do about Ray and Julia?” Alyssa finally blurted out, not knowing anyon
e else with whom she could discuss the problem. “I can’t let them pay me back. That money I gave them was free. All it cost me was the price of a plane trip to Vegas.”

  He shrugged, returning to the table and pouring himself a generous portion of cereal. “That’s one of the problems with making money the way we make it in Vegas. It can be a little awkward to explain. Especially since you’re so anxious to keep the source secret. Maybe you could convince them it’s a gift to your new little namesake?”

  “I don’t know. Ray and Julia are very proud. It was hard for them to ask for help in the first place. If I refuse to let them pay back the money…”

  “Then tell them the truth,” Jordan suggested, plunging into the cereal with a large spoon.

  “I haven’t told anyone the truth about those Vegas trips! I’m afraid that once the word gets out, the wrong people might eventually find out and draw the wrong conclusions.”

  “Wrong people like your boss McGregor?”

  “Yes!” she snapped in annoyance.

  “Double lives can get very complicated,” Jordan opined, golden eyes glinting. “Interesting, but complicated.”

  “This isn’t a joke, damn it…!” But the remainder of her admonition was cut off by the ringing of the telephone. With an impatient movement, she got to her feet and stalked across the kitchen to where a yellow phone hung on the wall.

  “Alyssa? Is that you?” came David McGregor’s voice in response to her rather crisp greeting. “Glad I caught you before you went out for the day.”

  “Oh, yes, sir! Good morning, Mr. McGregor. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.” Alyssa got out a little lamely, cursing herself for the too-abrupt way she had answered the phone. Automatically, she slid a glance across the room and found Jordan watching her.

  “Well, Mildred and I were just sitting here saying what a pleasant evening we had last night, and we were wondering if your friend Kyle was still in town?” McGregor’s friendly, ingratiating tones didn’t fool Alyssa for a moment. She had worked for this man long enough to know that he rarely did anything without a good reason. This Saturday-morning phone call was totally out of the ordinary for him. Instantly alert to the hidden nuances of the question, Alyssa turned back to frown sternly at the wall in front of her, thinking.

  “Why, yes, as a matter of fact, he is still inVentura,” she admitted cautiously. “Please tell Mildred that I’m glad she enjoyed herself,” she added quickly in what was undoubtedly a futile effort to get her boss off the subject of Jordan Kyle. He ignored the red herring completely.

  “Excellent!” McGregor murmured genially. “Then if the two of you aren’t doing anything in particular this afternoon, Mildred and I would like to invite you over for a rubber of bridge. Around two o’clock, say? Afterward, we can barbecue some steaks. How does that sound? You and Jordan do play bridge, don’t you?” he inquired belatedly.

  “Uh, yes,” she said blankly, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. This was a command performance, and she knew it. McGregor did not routinely invite members of his office staff for bridge and a barbecue on the weekends. And he wanted Jordan there. Suddenly, everything clicked in her head. Jordan was to be vetted. That was the only explanation that made any sense. “Yes, we do play, Mr. McGregor. That sounds delightful. Please tell Mildred I’ll bring a salad.”

  His mission accomplished, David McGregor hung up the phone with a polite, satisfied-sounding farewell. Alyssa slowly replaced the receiver and remained staring at the wall, her hand still resting on the yellow instrument beside her.

  “Something wrong?” Jordan inquired politely, still munching cereal.

  “Do you play bridge?” she asked stonily.

  “Not if I can avoid it.”

  “Well, you can’t avoid it. Not today. And it’s all your own fault.” She swung around to confront him, her hands on her hips as she glared across the room. “That was my boss, and we have been invited to spend the afternoon with him and his wife, playing bridge and having a barbecue. Do you understand what that means?”

  Jordan polished off the last of the cereal and sat back in his chair, reaching for the coffeepot on the counter behind him. “It means we’ve been invited for bridge and a barbecue. I didn’t hear you trying to get out of it.”

  “Because I can’t get out of it!” she stormed, striding back to the table and flinging herself down onto her chair. “McGregor wants us there, and as long as I’m trying to get that promotion, I am well advised to do as McGregor wants. You’re the main reason for this sudden invitation, Jordan.”

  “I am?” He poured coffee for her and replaced the pot without glancing behind him. Such good hands. Perfect coordination in those supple fingers. Alyssa wondered if anything could disturb the sureness in those hands.

  “Yes, damn it, you are. You’re to be vetted this afternoon, Jordan. McGregor is curious about you. He wants to check you out.” Alyssa’s own fingers drummed in nervous impatience on the glass-topped table as she eyed her unwelcome guest.

  “You mean he suspects I’m not who I said I was?” Jordan didn’t appear overly concerned by that possibility, merely curious.

  “I doubt that’s the problem,” she retorted. “You did an excellent job of passing for a respectable scholar last night!”

  “Thanks. I thought I handled it rather well myself.” He smiled at her over the rim of his cup.

  Alyssa leaned forward, her brows coming close together in a ferocious frown. “I suspect he wants to know exactly what your plans are in relation to me,” she told him very precisely, enunciating each word carefully.

  “Ah!” Jordan’s smile was in his eyes now, and Alyssa could have shaken him if she’d had the power to do so. “He wants to know if I’m going to lure you away from Ventura?”

  “Probably. If he thought I was on the verge of getting married and leaving town, for example, it would certainly affect his decision of whom to promote, wouldn’t it?” Alyssa shot back with saccharine sweetness.

  “Most likely,” Jordan agreed judiciously, sipping his coffee. His eyes never left her face.

  “So we must make it very clear to him that you are not a threat,” she concluded firmly.

  “A threat?”

  “You know what I mean. He must understand that I’m committed to Ventura for the foreseeable future. Which is only the truth. Jordan, if you don’t behave yourself this afternoon and help me out of this mess, I swear I will nail your gambler’s hide to my garage door!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured meekly enough. But his eyes were gleaming, and Alyssa didn’t trust the look in them at all.

  “I mean it, Jordan. I’ll never forgive you if you ruin my chances of getting that job!”

  “I understand,” he said placatingly.

  She sat back in her chair, eying him suspiciously. The man was actually looking forward to the afternoon, she realized dismally. He probably saw it as another chance to play at being the respected mathematician. “About the bridge game,” she went on ruthlessly.

  “Yes?”

  “We will be partners, of course, playing against the McGregors. And we will lose, Jordan. Is that very clear?”

  “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “We will not lose badly. We will make it a close game; give them a run for their money…”

  “We’ll be playing for money?” Jordan asked brightly.

  “That was a figure of speech. There will not be any money involved. The point is that I want to play a good, respectable game, but in the end I want the McGregors to win.”

  “Whatever you say,” he agreed laconically. “Want some more coffee? No? Then come on, shrew, let’s go for a walk on the beach. Maybe the sea breeze will blow you into a better mood.”

  He was on his feet before she could protest, reaching down to catch her wrist and haul her up beside him. Maybe he was right, Alyssa thought morosely as he led her firmly out the door and down onto the sand, where they removed their shoes. Maybe a nice long walk on the
beach would clear her head and enable her to think. She was certainly going to need all her wits about her this afternoon as she handled the McGregors. Her career might very well depend on how adroitly she fielded her boss’s subtle questions today.

  “Feels good to be on a beach again,” Jordan said, inhaling appreciatively. It was early yet, and they had most of the long, luxurious sweep of sand and sea to themselves.

  “Your home is on the coast, isn’t it?” Alyssa muttered, remembering the Oregon address on his driver’s license.

  “Ummm. It is, but I don’t spend a lot of time there. It’s just an address for me. A place to go when I’m not working.” He led her along the packed sand near the water’s edge at a brisk pace, his fingers wrapped securely around her wrist.

  In spite of her own problems, Alyssa felt her curiosity rise. “It’s not a home for you? A real home?”

  “Just a place to go between casinos.” He shrugged, glancing down at her. “Not like this place is for you. How long have you lived in Ventura, Alyssa?”

  “Nearly four years now.”

  “Four years,” he repeated thoughtfully. “When were you divorced?”

  “When I was twenty-four,” she responded shortly.

  “Haven’t you ever wanted to remarry?” he probed.

  “Not particularly. I’ve been busy.”

  “Ah, yes. Building this famous career of yours.”

  “Is there anything wrong with that?” she charged tightly, her eyes on the sea’s horizon. “After all, you’ve devoted your life to your career, too! You said you’d never been married.”

  “True. I never thought marriage would work very well in my case. It would take a very special kind of woman to accept a professional gambler as a husband, don’t you think? It would take a woman who really understood. A woman who didn’t mind the odd hours, the constant traveling, the endless motel rooms or the fact that her husband’s job would not be particularly admired or respected by the vast majority of her friends and family. Most people consider gambling something to be done as an occasional fling. Something to do for an exciting, slightly naughty weekend once a year. People who do it more often are thought to be a trifle seedy, to say the least. Or sick with a compulsion,” he added thoughtfully.