And so begins my self-inflicted plague. Do I jump from Greyson’s bed into Caleb’s? Even though Greyson and I are completely cut off from each other for six months—and I lost the wager with Caleb before Greyson and I became intimate—could I simply switch from one man to another so quickly?
My traitorous body said yes to Caleb, and my gambler’s pride said I lost and I had to. But I needed more time. I had been attracted to Caleb long before Greyson got to me, but it wasn’t enough. Caleb and I were too similar. Our personalities were either in perfect harmony or in a warzone . . . mainly for me. Caleb always managed to keep his cool. If he wants me to honor the wager, he’ll have to make me want him all over again. Desperately want him again.
Chapter 2
I wrapped a robe around me as I stepped from the bathroom. The shower had hit the spot and so had my unexpected sound sleep. The bathroom light lit a sliver of the bed. The light slashed across Caleb’s arm and face. Both were tan and smooth. My eyes lingered on his mouth, and I remembered when his lips last touched mine. An instant hunger for him made me clench my teeth at my weakness.
He wouldn’t need to wake up until we had to leave for the tournament. I think it starts at ten, but I couldn’t recall making it to yesterday’s start time. Come to think of it, I wonder if I have any chips left.
My task for this morning was to buy clothes and personal products to last me through the rest of the week. However, it was only three thirty in the morning.
I peeked over at Caleb to make sure he was asleep. He was sleeping soundly; his jaw relaxed, lips slightly parted. I ignored his kissable lips and dug through his suitcase to select a T-shirt and jeans. I refused to dress in my skunky clothes. They should be burnt for health-code violations.
I pulled his shirt over my head and slipped into his pants. A tingly sensation excited my skin. I can’t believe I’m getting turned on by wearing his clothes! Not to mention, they were way too big for me. I rolled the waist and ankles and let the T-shirt hang.
I found my purse and headed to the lobby. A man with a bright button-down shirt was perched behind the front desk.
“Do you speak English?” I asked the man.
“Of course, we are an international hotel,” he said in a thick accent that was a little hard to understand. “How can I help you? You are awake very early.”
“I had to leave my luggage at the airport in Las Vegas. I have to shop before the tournament.”
“You are a little early for clothing stores. Most don’t open until nine or so.”
I groaned. “I have to be at the casino before ten.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“Do you have a store in the hotel?”
“Yes, but it won’t have clothes.”
“Toothbrush?”
“Yes, we have that.”
“All right, thank you. Do you know what I can do with myself until nine?”
“Go back to bed.”
I frowned. That wasn’t an option. Caleb was still there, and I was starving. My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten for days. I was hungry and had no place to go. There had to be a 7-eleven somewhere in town. Those are always open and I’m guessing they’re international. Every country needs slurpees and nachos, don’t they?
I pushed through the lobby doors to step outside and catch a glimpse of the Panama ambiance. I hadn’t done any sightseeing. Maybe I could sneak a peek and catch the sunrise too.
I stood on the sidewalk of a dimly lit street and heard the eerie night sound of a city stuck between settling down for the night and struggling to wake up. This wasn’t what I was hoping for. I gave up my slurpee hunt immediately and turned to retreat inside the hotel. A cough in the darkness caught my attention. It was a cough that sounded too close for comfort but was cloaked in the night shadows. I ran inside the hotel and up the staircase. My heart pounded in my ears.
I didn’t know why a harmless cough had me running, but it did. It was a cough skulking from a dark street. It was a deep, gravelly cough similar to Dagor’s. I didn’t want to ponder if it was Dagor. My heart and head had already condemned it to be so.
I found my way to the suite. Realizing I didn’t have a key to the room, I gave the handle a slight jiggle . . . it could have worked. I didn’t want to knock and wake Caleb. He needed his sleep. I also didn’t want to be alone with him with spare time on our hands.
I’d have to go back to the front desk and request a key. I wasn’t excited to go downstairs. It would mean getting closer to the unknown cough. I was about to turn when the door opened and an arm stretched out and yanked me into the room.
“Where were you?” Caleb asked. He was groggy with sleep. His morning stubble blended into his tousled hair.
I directed my eyes up to the ceiling. Caleb was still naked. His firm body beckoned to me.
“At the front desk. I wanted to see when the stores open.”
“When do they open?”
“Nine. I’m totally screwed.” I meant to rest my eyes on Caleb’s face, but they traveled a little too far south. “Get some clothes on!”
“I would, but you’re wearing them.”
“These aren’t your only clothes. You have a whole suitcase full.”
He smirked. “But I want to wear this T-shirt,” he said, pulling the front of the shirt to bring me closer.
I scolded myself to keep my eyes averted. “You can have it back when I buy my own clothes.”
“I’ll take it now.”
I scowled. He was testing me; always pushing one more button to discover my limits.
His mouth curved into a grin. “I’m going to take a shower. Want to join me?”
“No, I already took a shower.”
“It’s too bad. We’re in Panama. We have the tournament by day and sunsets by night. Get into the rhythm of the country.”
“I will when I have clothes.”
“I’ll find you clothes to wear and have you to the tournament on time if you agree to dinner and wine on the beach with me tonight.”
“That sounds harmless enough. I agree.” It sounded romantic too. Romance is a rarity in my life. I’m not a flower-and-mushy-sentiment type of girl, but everyone needs a little romantic gallantry every now and again. And I needed some gallantry.
“Your clothes are hanging in the closet.”
My eyes popped opened wide. “You have my clothes?”
“When you passed out last night I figured you might need something for the morning, so I bought you a few things. You’re lucky I like you. The sales girl kept pulling out very seductive clothing for me to buy. But perhaps it was because she wanted to model them for me. I was tempted to see if you’d wear them, but I didn’t want you to make a scene at the casino.”
I opened the closet to find jeans and a T-shirt. I held up the shirt, raising my brow quizzically while reading the caption: Panama: my canal or yours? At least it was the right size. So were the jeans. I eyed him.
“Your clothes were on the ground, so I read the tags to find out what size you were.”
“That’s actually very nice. Thank you.”
“Do I get a kiss?”
“Maybe once you have clothes on.”
“I’ll be back for my kiss. Give me my T-shirt.”
“You can have it when you’re done showering.”
He moved closer to me. “I want it now.”
I backed away, but he wasn’t deterred. I didn’t want his hands on me. That would have been a horribly bad idea seeing as he was naked. I reluctantly pulled the shirt off and threw it at him.
“Pants too.”
I glared at him, yanked the pants off, and flung them at him. He caught them with a smirk, raking his eyes over me in a thorough scan.
“That’s better,” he said, strolling to the bathroom with his confiscated clothing.
My eyes glued to his naked retreating form. He turned to catch me watching him and winked right before the bathroom door closed. I bit my lip. D
amn.
Caleb and I took a taxi to the casino. The driver dropped us off at the front entrance.
“Why didn’t you book a room at the casino hotel?” I asked him as we hopped out of the taxi.
“Because I live and breathe Las Vegas and casinos. When I’m away from home, I want to feel like I’m away. If we stayed at the casino hotel, it would be like we’d never left.” He stopped before we entered the casino. “And that would be a tragedy. Beaches, sunsets, wine, and love await us outside these walls tonight.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Does that work on the bimbos?”
A sly smile escaped. “I went too far with the love part, didn’t I?”
“You suck.”
I breezed through the casino door and found my way to the tournament room with pregame jitters coursing through me. Caleb trailed behind me in a stroll that was relaxed and without concern.
I heard my name called out and turned to see a man racing toward me with his arms stretched wide open. I didn’t know who he was or why he was running toward me, but my feet were itching to sprint. I turned on my heel just as he latched onto me like a koala bear hugging a tree trunk.
“Oh, poker goddess! I can’t believe it’s you! I dreamed you’d be here.”
“Get off me,” I said as I fought to pry myself from his clutches.
He was my height and had slicked-back dark hair that was long enough to put in a ponytail. He was unnaturally strong for a man of my height and weight.
“Look,” he said in a thick accent as he released me to reveal his T-shirt. “I bought your official T-shirt.”
I surveyed his shirt. It was me standing on stage for my first performance with Lupier. A gig I’ll never forget—nor will YouTube let me. I was performing a card-toss trick in a tight dress that Frankie had squeezed me into. I had heard a noise backstage and lost my grip on the cards. They flew out of my hand like snakes in a can. As I bent to pick up the cards, my dress popped up, revealing my posterior to the gasping audience and live television cameras.
Frankie had created and uploaded a website for the world to see. And now my homepage is a picture of me alternating between standing and mooning. This man’s T-shirt had me standing, at least. I sighed a bit of relief until Caleb stifled a grin. He was smirking at the back of the man’s shirt, biting his lip to contain a laugh.
“Turn around,” I instructed the man.
He happily turned around, and I found myself mooning the world on the back of his T-shirt. There was a bold censor line covering most of the embarrassing parts with the website address in red letters. There was still too much of my bum hanging out the bottom.
“Where did you get that shirt?” I gasped.
“On your website. I even bought your bobblehead . . . Well, I guess it would be a bobblebutt. Do you want to see it? I have it on my scooter.”
A bobblebutt? Frankie is sooo dead!
“Uh, no, thank you. I have to go. The tournament is about to start.”
“My goddess, wait a moment. I want your autograph.” He handed me a permanent marker.
I reached for the marker with a sigh. “Where do you want it?”
He lifted up his shirt and stuck out his chest. “On my heart. Make it out to Sergio.”
I slid a glance at Caleb. He was turning red, biting back his laughter. I quickly signed the man’s chest, handed back his marker, and fled into the tournament room.
Caleb was on my heels. “So, that was entertaining.”
“Shut up. You sign women’s chests all the time.”
“Somehow I think it’s different.”
I flustered. “That’s because you’re a chauvinist.”
He wasn’t but I couldn’t think of anything witty to say.
“I’m going to strangle Frankie when I get home. I can’t believe he’s selling my ass on a T-shirt.”
“I’m going to buy one.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Don’t you dare!”
“In fact, I’m going to buy one as soon as we sit down at the table. I should be able to get phone reception in here.”
“Caleb, please don’t buy a T-shirt. You’ll only egg him on. Frankie won’t stop as long as there’s money involved. He’s like a green battery bunny. One whiff of green money and he goes and goes and goes. Bad ideas spring out of his head like fleas.”
Caleb chuckled and turned me into him for a hug. “I was just having a little fun. I promise not to buy a shirt. We’ll be playing in ten minutes. It’s time to get your head back into the game.”
I nodded. He was right. More than four hundred players had entered the tournament and a little over three hundred remained. Cash-award payouts began at fiftieth place. It would at least pay me my buy-in fee, plus a few extra thousand dollars to pay my fare home and have some mad money. First place equaled half a million U.S. dollars, plus the winner receives a gold trophy. The trophy wasn’t worth nearly as much as the main prize, but it would be nice to have.
“By the way, how bad off am I? I don’t remember what my chip stack was.”
“From the stack size, I think you’ll be in decent shape.”
I breathed a little easier.
I stepped over to the cashier and withdrew my chip bag from the previous day. Caleb’s writing was on the outside of the bag. He must have taken care of counting and depositing my chips yesterday. I stood on my tiptoes and gave Caleb a quick kiss on the cheek.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“For depositing my chips, for not letting me sleep under the poker table, and for not letting me walk in here naked.”
“Oh, I thought it was for luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You’re a walking four-leaf clover.”
“Then I’ll give you some luck.” He swooped down and planted a firm kiss on my lips.
I pushed him away, not wanting my head befuddled by his promising lips. I hoped it was a good luck kiss. I was going to need it.
I gathered my chips and found my table. I took an empty seat between two men. An undercover sniff told me they weren’t ripe like my last neighbor.
A man seated across the table from me smirked as I took my place. I eyed him, but his gaze remained steady on me. He was wearing an unbuttoned polo shirt and jeans. His sunglasses were hooked on the collar of his shirt. There wasn’t too much that stood out about him. He was average, but his stare wasn’t. I have plenty of patience when it comes to stare downs while the game is in play but none when there isn’t even a dealer at the table.
“Is there a reason you’re staring at me?” I asked him.
He smiled coolly and leaned forward with folded hands. “I’m going to enjoy beating you today like I did yesterday,” he said in a French accent that stood out amongst the Spanish accents. “Just because Caleb Usher slipped chips into your bag yesterday doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy taking them from you again.”
“You know Caleb?”
“I don’t know him personally, but I know him from his poker career.”
“How do you know he gave me chips?”
His brow arched. “You and I played the last hand of the table yesterday. I won all but ten of your chips, and now you have a decent stack.”
“Perhaps I bought a re-buy.”
He shrugged. “It’s possible, but unlikely. It doesn’t bother me. If you have more chips, then Caleb has less of a chip lead. I can beat you without looking at my cards, but he’s another story.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The dealer settled into his seat and opened the pack of cards so the table could witness the new deck. My eyes flicked over to Caleb before my hand was tossed in front of me. I didn’t want to believe the Frenchman, but it would make sense I’d lost my chips. I was nearly comatose when Caleb had gathered me from the table. He probably slid a stack of his own chips into my bag before he’d sealed it. It’s a violation of tournament rules.
I’d have to play nicely with the Frenchman. He couldn’t prove Caleb gave me chips, but he could
make both of our lives difficult. I’ll give him a little extra breathing room.
I glanced down at my hand to see a seven and a four. Not much to excite with this hand. I tossed them back to the dealer and leaned back while the Frenchman and a man with a Superman T-shirt battled it out.
Caleb was in a hand with someone. I watched him as he leaned back. His shirt stretched against his firm chest and arms. I bit my lip. He was already making me want him, and he wasn’t doing anything except sitting.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw something white being waved around. I cast my gaze over to the side of the tournament room and saw Sergio eagerly watching the tournament and waving a large, white poster-board sign that read “Nadia is my God-ia.”
I cringed.
“How did you do?” Caleb asked as we were leaving the casino.
“Not bad. I tripled my stack. I’d ask you but you’re probably the chip leader right now.”
“I’m almost the chip leader. Are you ready for dinner?”
“I was ready for dinner two hours ago.”
His hand slipped into mine as he escorted me to a taxi. He gave the driver instructions as I braced myself for the NASCAR taxi ride.
“Where are we going?”
“To the beach, like we agreed.”
“The beach will be nice after sitting in the casino.”
At top taxi speeds, it took the driver five minutes to drop us off at the beach. Caleb weaved me around a tourist group and down the beach until we arrived at a small cove where a man in a white tuxedo was waiting for us. I eyed Caleb.
“Come on, we’re in Panama,” he said. “If we don’t have fun here, there was no point in leaving Las Vegas.”
“You have a point.”
We rambled down to meet the man in the tux. He had a blanket and picnic set up. He settled us in and listed what food was in the basket. He then lit candles, which were placed in the sand, poured us wine, said his farewell and disappeared.
High Stakes Page 2
