by Eve Gaddy
It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, stopping her words. And nudging up her body heat by several degrees.
“Casey.” Jackson opened the door and poked his head in as Nick’s hand dropped away. “What the hell are you doing? Come on, the Fire Inspector wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Jackson closed the door and Casey started after him, grateful for the interruption.
“I’ll be waiting for that answer,” Nick said.
“It might not be the one you want.” Wouldn’t, if she had any sense.
Again, that dynamite smile lit up his face. “I take risks for a living, sweetheart.”
She had no comeback for that. When she reached the door she turned around and looked at Nick. “I’ll talk to you later.” She shouldn’t, though. What she ought to do was run the other way. Now. Any man who could make her forget her duty—forget the fire—even for a few minutes, was bound to be dangerous. The wise choice would be to turn him down.
Too bad she wasn’t always wise.
CHAPTER FOUR
“GEE, THAT WAS FUN,” Casey said some time later. The Fire Inspector had left, and she and Jackson had returned to the porch to discuss their next step. Esme, overcome by the destruction, had gone upstairs to compose herself. Casey was antsy, as she always was when the cane needed her attention and she couldn’t get to it. They were gearing up for harvest, and Casey wanted to make sure everything would run smoothly. Instead, she was dealing with the fire’s aftermath.
“Oh, yeah. I don’t see how I can leave you with all this,” Jackson said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He looked tired—both physically and emotionally. The past few months had been a roller-coaster ride for Jackson. Although he hadn’t married Megan’s mother, Janis, he’d supported his child. He’d had visitation rights, as well, though Janis had made that difficult. The shock of discovering that Janis had been sentenced to prison for fraud and involvement with drug dealing had sent him off instantly to bring Megan home to live with him.
“I’m going to cancel my flight.”
Casey stared at him for a moment, unable to recall what he was talking about. “Your flight?”
Jackson nodded. “Remember, I was scheduled to go to Sugarland, Texas, tomorrow for the Sugar Coalition business conference? And then I was supposed to fly on to Mexico City next week for that conference on NAFTA.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten.” Jackson attended several business conferences a year. The one in Mexico City concerned the repercussions of NAFTA on the Sugar Coalition. “They’re important, aren’t they? The Mexico City conference especially.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s out of the question now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jackson. I’m perfectly capable of handling things here. I do it all the time.”
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “You don’t deal with problems like this all the time. We’re not talking about just the farm. We have to deal with insurance investigators, and at the same time, find someone to make the kitchen habitable again. And just between you and me—” he glanced toward the door, then back to her “—I don’t know if Aunt Esme is up to it. She seemed awfully shaken earlier.”
Betty, who was cooking bacon on the stove, snorted. “Better not let her hear you say that. Miss Froufrou thinks she has the last word on everything about this house.” Betty often referred to Esme as Froufrou, the Cajun term for putting on frills. “You let someone she don’t approve of touch that kitchen and all hell’s gonna break loose.”
Jackson shot her an irritated glance. “I’m aware of that, Betty. Leave Aunt Esme to me and Casey.”
Betty huffed out an exasperated sigh, the unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth quivering in indignation. In all the years she’d known Betty, Casey had never seen the woman light one, but she was rarely without one either in her mouth or stuck behind her ear.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Casey said solemnly. To her brother, she said, “If those are your main concerns, forget it. I’ve handled insurance companies before. As for the repairs, Nick gave me the name of a man. It sounded like he was qualified. I’m going to check him out later today, and if everything looks good, I’ll contact him. Adam Ross. Do you know him?”
He shook his head. “No.” Jackson still seemed unsure, but after they argued some more, he finally allowed Casey to convince him it was in Bellefontaine’s best interests for him to attend the conferences.
“But before you go, you have to tell Aunt Esme about Nick Devlin,” Casey said. “You’re not pawning that job off on me. He’s your problem, not mine.”
“You’re making too much of it,” Jackson said.
“Ha. Tell me that after you’ve told Aunt Esme.”
“Speaking of Nick—” Jackson broke off and poured coffee into his mug. He didn’t seem to know how to continue, glancing at her a bit too casually. “What was going on with you two when I came in earlier?”
Surprised, she replied, “I think that comes under the heading of None of Your Business.”
“Look, Casey.” He fiddled with his mug, looking uncomfortable. “I like Nick, but he’s got a reputation with women that I’m fairly sure is well deserved.”
“You mean besides being a gambler, he’s a player.”
Jackson nodded. “Well, yeah.” He hesitated. “I’m not saying he’s like Whittaker,” he said, referring to her two-timing, disappearing ex-fiancé, “but he never stays long in one place. You should think about that before you go out with him.”
She started to remind him that she was the elder sibling and didn’t need him watching out for her, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. He reminded her so much of Duke sometimes. Especially now, when he was in his “protecting the womenfolk” mode. What was it about Southern men?
“And don’t try to tell me he didn’t ask you out,” Jackson added. “Because I wouldn’t believe you. I’m just saying be careful.”
“Thanks, but I’d already figured that out. Besides, Jackson, he asked me to dinner—not to marry him. Let me worry about Nick Devlin. You just take care of telling Aunt Esme.”
“Tell me what?” Esme said from the doorway.
They both looked at her, then at each other. Casey raised her eyebrow. “Well, brother, dear?”
“Nothing, Aunt Esme,” Jackson said hastily. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Nick opened the screen door and entered. He nodded at everyone, then handed Casey a slip of paper. “Adam Ross’s phone number. I wanted to give it to you before I went down to the casino. I’m interviewing some bands for the grand opening today. Want to come listen?”
Casey nearly groaned. Talk about bad timing. “Thanks,” she said, taking the paper. “And thanks for the invite, but I have too much to do here.”
“I was afraid you would, but I thought I’d ask.”
“Casino?” Esme echoed sharply. “What’s this about a casino?”
“The White Gold,” Nick said. “The newest riverboat casino. I’m getting it ready for the grand opening. It’s set for a week from Friday.”
Esme stared at him for a full minute, looking him up and down in revulsion. “Jackson.” She turned to her nephew, wrath kindling in her eyes. “You brought a casino owner into our home? Without even telling me?”
“Oh, I’m no longer the owner,” Nick said, before Jackson could answer. “I sold it. I’m just managing it until it’s up and running.” He winked at Casey.
Much as she wanted to, Casey couldn’t find the humor in the situation. Esme was at her intolerant worst, Jackson looked like a thundercloud about to burst, and she was so irritated she wanted to scream. She took Nick’s arm and tried to hustle him out before the storm broke.
“Thanks so much. Don’t let us keep you,” she said.
“You know my feelings about those casinos, Jackson. Dens of iniqu
ity, that’s what they are. Encouraging the criminal elements to inhabit our city. How could you? I forbid it, do you hear me? He can’t stay here.”
“The hell he can’t,” Jackson said, his temper rising to meet hers. “I’ll invite anyone I please to my own home.”
“Of course you will. You’ve shown no consideration for the rest of your family,” Esme said. “First it’s your il—” she bit her lip “—your daughter, now it’s riverboat gamblers. What will be next, a woman of ill repute?”
Betty had turned around and crossed her arms, preparing to enjoy the fireworks. Casey wanted to sink into the floor.
“Come on,” Casey said to Nick. “Let’s get out of here.”
He grinned down at her. “Don’t worry, I’m notoriously thick-skinned.”
“Yes, but I’m not.” He might not mind, but she was mortified. “Come on, Jackson can deal with her. Serves him right,” she muttered. She practically dragged him to the door and shoved him out. “See you later,” she threw over her shoulder, but the battle raged, the dog barked, and neither her brother nor her aunt heard her.
“Stop laughing,” Casey said crossly, as they walked down the back drive toward a car—a sweet little red Porsche, unless she missed her guess—parked some distance away. The man had good taste. In cars, anyway. “There’s nothing funny about it.”
He stopped and pushed her chin up with his fingers, gazing into her eyes. She looked back at him defiantly as his own gaze softened.
“Hey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve had much worse said to me, believe me.”
Casey jerked away, conscious of a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew what it was. Pleasure at his touch. Entirely too dangerous. She shrugged off her conflicting emotions and mentally straightened her back.
“Jackson should have told her before now. Aunt Esme has some kind of grudge against the casinos, especially the boats. It’s nothing against you personally. But it would be best if you just avoided her for a few days, at least.”
“Not a problem. As long as I don’t have to avoid you.” The color of his eyes deepened, and he stroked a finger along the side of her face. A shiver went down her spine, even as she lectured herself. No way was she falling for another fly-by-night man. She took a step back, remembering Jackson’s warning. Not that she’d needed it.
No doubt Nick Devlin knew everything there was to know about getting past a woman’s defenses. Not to mention, into her pants. She wished that thought angered her, rather than intrigued her. “You don’t have to avoid me. But I’m not going out with you.”
“Why not?”
She decided to tell him the truth. Casey believed in being up-front with people. Especially men, especially after the fiasco with her ex-fiancé. “You’re a very attractive man.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Thanks. Do I hear a ‘but’ after that?”
She nodded. “But I’m not in the market for a summer fling. So there’s really no point in our seeing each other. It’s not going to lead anywhere.”
“You mean, it’s not going to lead to us sleeping together.”
“Right.”
He looked amused, which annoyed her. “Tell me something, Casey. Have you ever had a summer fling?”
“Of course I—” She broke off. Truthfully, she hadn’t. Every relationship she’d had—all three of them—had been long term. Committed. Or at least, on her part they’d been committed.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Not a thing, sweetheart.” He opened the car door and slid in, then rolled down the window. “But I’d suggest you don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
Casey leaned down to the open window. “You tell me something. Have you ever tried sticking around?”
He looked thoughtful, then flashed her a grin. “Can’t say that I have. But there’s a reason for that—”
Casey merely lifted an eyebrow and waited.
“I’ve never met a woman I thought was worth sticking around for.” He put the car in gear, and she took a step back. “Yet,” he added, in that deep, sexy voice, and then drove off.
He was smart, all right. What self-respecting woman could resist such a challenge?
Me, she told herself. I will not buy into this game. Nope, no way. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he’d said.
“Ha,” she muttered, and turned toward the fields. “I haven’t tried hara-kiri, either. That doesn’t mean I’m going to run right out and buy a sword, just so I can say I’ve done it.”
THREE DAYS LATER Nick sat on the White Gold, interviewing musicians for what he devoutly hoped was the last time. He’d heard some good ones, even some he’d hired to play at the grand opening and at later dates. But he hadn’t found “the” musician. The headliner for the grand opening.
Besides gambling, the White Gold would offer fine dining and entertainment. He wanted someone special to open, someone unique. They didn’t have to be well-known. He wouldn’t mind a sleeper who had the potential to explode. In fact, he decided, he’d prefer it.
The top floor of the boat was given over to an exclusive gaming room for the high rollers, complete with baccarat, blackjack, roulette and poker—all at a very stiff minimum. Next to this was a posh dining room and bar for those who’d had enough of gambling for the moment. One end of the dining room held a raised stage for various comedy acts or bands, as well as a parquet dance floor.
Nick looked around the large room, satisfied with what he saw. He’d hired two maître d’s yesterday who came highly recommended. The furnishings reminded him of the riverboat scene from Gone With the Wind, which had been his intention when he’d hired the interior designer.
Lush red velvet hangings, snowy white tablecloths and a gleaming, polished dark wood mahogany bar that ran half the length of one wall. Classy, quiet elegance, a direct contrast to the more raucous rooms on the floors below. The White Gold would have something for everyone, from the serious gambler to the curious who just wanted to drop a few bucks in a nickel slot and watch the action.
Yesterday he’d signed the deal with the fourth captain. Though casino boats didn’t take to the water after their initial move downriver from St. Louis, the Coast Guard still required them to have a fully licensed captain on board at all times. The boat would undergo regular Coast Guard inspections, just as every maritime vessel must do. Nick didn’t question why, he merely complied with the law. But he did occasionally wonder why a vessel that would never be fully seaworthy had to pass such stringent inspection—beyond fire codes, of course.
He picked up his club soda and sipped it. Maybe the problem wasn’t lack of talent. Maybe he was the problem. He hadn’t seen Casey except at a distance in three days. Who’d have thought one woman would have him so intrigued he couldn’t even consider other women? Just last night he’d turned down an invitation from a very attractive female jazz singer, and it hadn’t caused him a pang of regret.
He’d given Casey enough time. He intended to find out tonight if she’d meant what she said about not going out with him, or if she regretted those hasty words.
The next band, a jazz band headed by an alto sax player named Luc Renault, had finished setting up. Nick watched with a grin as a very classy blonde wrapped her arms around Luc and laid a kiss on him that should have steamed the paint off the walls. “Break a leg,” he heard her say before she took a seat at a front-row table. Nick doubted he was the only man who watched her go.
The sax player took it in stride, though. “Merci, bébé,” he told her, and launched into their first number.
Nick knew he had his headliner after the first riff. By the time the band had gone to their second song, he simply listened for enjoyment, assured he’d found exactly what he wanted.
“They’re good, aren’t they?” a sultry female voice asked.
He looked up to see the blonde. He smiled at her, rose and motioned for her to take a seat. “Better than good. They’re spectacular.”
He held out a hand before they sat down. “Nick Devlin.”
She shook it and said, “Viv Renault. Luc’s my husband.”
“So you’re here to offer moral support?”
“No.” She dimpled. “I’m here because I like to hear them play.”
Nick laughed. “Can’t blame you there.” They listened to the rest of the set in comfortable silence.
A short time later the set ended and Luc came to the table. Viv stood to greet him. He slid his arm around his wife’s waist before saying to Nick, “Luc Renault. I see you’ve met my wife.”
Nick nodded. “Just now. I enjoyed your set very much.”
“Thanks.” He looked at his wife, who winked at him.
Nick wondered what it would be like to have a woman share in your accomplishments. And your failures. He doubted he’d ever know. He felt a twinge of disappointment at that thought, but shook it off. Time to get down to business.
“We open a week from Friday. I’d like to sign you on as both the headliner for the grand opening and a regular in the months to come. We can talk terms and details now or later, if you want. The entertainment manager is around somewhere, I can page him. But we’re prepared to top your most recent contract terms.”
Luc wasn’t quite successful at hiding his surprise, and his pleasure. “Mr. Devlin, it sounds like you have a deal,” he said, stretching out a hand.
“Nick,” he said as they shook hands. “Great to have you on board.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TEN O’CLOCK THAT NIGHT, and Casey sat at the computer, staring at the spreadsheet and updating the data—in particular, the weather conditions and growth rate on the experimental hybrid crop.
After dinner she’d forced herself to change into shorts and tennis shoes and go back to the office, though in this miserable heat she’d much rather have skipped it to stay in the cooler big house. She hit another wrong key, swore, backed up and started again. After finishing the entry, she scowled and tipped her chair back, balancing with her foot on the desk.
