Casey's Gamble

by Eve Gaddy

  But she was worried, Casey realized. Worried that she would wind up liking Nick Devlin too much for her own good. In fact, she already did.

  NICK ENJOYED a lot of things about a new casino, but opening night was always the biggest kick for him. By now, the managers were in place, and his main job was to talk to people.

  He glanced around, satisfied that the decor was opulent without being tacky. As he’d intended, the glass chandeliers, long gilded mirrors and plush velvet hangings harkened back to an earlier age, when riverboats plied the Mississippi and Mark Twain was writing.

  The first floor was the heart of the casino. It hadn’t yet reached the din that would soon be constant. Still, the early arrivals were already lined up at the slots and tables. Bells whistled, coins clinked, chips rattled, and people shouted from the craps table when someone hit big—or lost.

  Nick liked the noise. Oh, not as a regular diet, but he enjoyed the sounds of people having a good time, of money changing hands and of the excitement of patrons placing bets and winning. And he didn’t have to be the one gambling to enjoy it. Most of the time, it was enough just being a part of it.

  He sometimes wondered if his pleasure in the atmosphere had something to do with the orphanage where he’d spent eight long years—a cold, dismal place of hushed tones and grim children. Any time the kids rebelled, the rules became even more restrictive. Nick had left at fifteen and never looked back.

  While he was waiting for Casey to arrive, he met up with Adam, who wasn’t much on gambling or parties but had agreed to come. Nick figured his friend would enjoy himself. Adam liked food, women and music, and there were plenty of all three at the White Gold tonight.

  “Great place, Nick,” Adam said after they’d shaken hands.

  “Glad you made it.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” He glanced around, taking in the decor. “Some boat.”

  “Thanks. I think Moreau is satisfied.” If the man couldn’t make a success out of the place after this opening, then he was incompetent. Nick had some concerns about Moreau. The guy had been a little flaky lately, but nothing so drastic as to really worry Nick. Still, the man was here tonight and was taking on his responsibilities as host. Nick had seen him last on the third level, where the high rollers hung out. Nick felt sure, though, that any problems tonight would be strictly his to solve.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you, thanks for recommending me for the Bellefontaine job.”

  “No problem. Besides, you already thanked me.”

  “It’s a great job. Casey’s a pleasure to work for. Not to mention,” he added with a smile, “to look at.”

  Nick shot him a sharp glance, surprised at the twinge of jealousy he felt. He’d never been jealous before. What was different about this time? “Yeah, she sure is. And Adam?” He waited until Adam met his eyes. “Looking’s all you’d better do.”

  Adam laughed. “Had that figured out already.”

  Nick didn’t care for the fact that he’d been so easy to read, but since Adam was one of his oldest friends, he shrugged it off.

  “Is the food any good?” Adam asked.

  “It better be,” Nick said, thinking of the small fortune they’d been forced to pay the head chef. “There’s a buffet on the second floor. With everything from Cajun to Continental. A jazz band is playing later tonight. They’re good.”

  “Sounds great. I’m starved.” Adam stared over Nick’s left shoulder.

  “Wow,” he said reverently.

  Nick turned around and saw Casey and Viv. One brunette, one blonde, both perfect. Viv waved at him, then headed toward the dining room where her husband was setting up. A smile tugged at his mouth. “I’ll second that.”

  As she reached him, Casey put her hands in his and kissed his cheek. “Nick, the place is gorgeous.”

  “So are you,” he said truthfully. She looked and smelled like a million bucks. Dressed in jeans or shorts, Casey was a remarkably pretty woman. To night, she was a knockout. Her dress was red, slinky and provocative, hugging her curves closely. The sparkly material shimmered when she moved, and skinny straps held up a low-cut bodice. It was a beautiful dress, and sexy. And to top it off, she’d left her hair down. Deep auburn highlights glinted in the rich brown that fell in long waves past her shoulders. Nick was finding it hard to breathe, much less talk coherently.

  They stared at each other, oblivious to their surroundings. Adam cleared his throat. “Hello, Casey.”

  Her hands still in Nick’s, she blinked, then turned to look at Adam. “Oh, Adam. Hi. I didn’t realize that was you standing there.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he said ruefully. He punched Nick lightly in the arm. “Lucky devil,” he muttered. “Since I’m obviously superfluous here, I’m going to scout out the food.”

  “Yeah, later,” Nick said, still gazing at Casey.

  “We were rude,” she said, after Adam left.

  “Probably.” Not that he cared. Right then, all he cared about was looking at her. “He’ll get over it.”

  “Still. I should—” She broke off as he touched her face with one hand.

  He stroked her jaw, marveling at how soft and smooth her skin was. If they were alone he’d be tasting that luscious skin right now. “Should what?”

  She shook her head, her eyes dazed. “What were we talking about?”

  “You keep staring at me like that and we won’t be at the party for long.” He wanted to take her to a nice, private place and make mind-blowing love to her. And then he wanted to do it all over again.

  She moistened her lips, making them slick, inviting, and as red as her dress. It was all he could do not to lean down and kiss her, but he knew if he did, he wouldn’t want to stop.

  “That sounds…tempting. But don’t you have responsibilities here? You can’t just up and leave, can you?”

  “No, I can’t. Not yet. But the party’s officially over at midnight.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “And then all bets are off.”

  “Midnight,” she said. “Just like Cinderella. I hope I don’t turn into a pumpkin.”

  Nick laughed. “It was her coach that turned into a pumpkin. And you’re more beautiful than Cinderella ever thought of being.” He smiled as delicate color suffused her face. “Come on.” He took her hand and placed it on the crook of his elbow. “Let’s go get you something to eat. I’m sure there are some people in the dining room I should be talking to.” And maybe, just maybe, if they weren’t alone, he could manage to keep his hands off her until midnight.

  On their way to the dining room, they ran into Hank Jensen, the Fire Inspector. Nick cursed himself for inviting the man. The last thing he wanted was for Casey to think about the fire, or anything that would upset her. But she was already stopping and shaking hands with Jensen before Nick could steer her away.

  “Have you found anything out about the fire?”

  Jensen nodded. “Not as much as we’d like. And unfortunately, nothing that will lead to an arrest. I’m sorry, Casey, I’ll let you know as soon as we turn up anything definite.”

  He said goodbye and went on his way, leaving Casey staring after him with a frown.

  “Give them some time,” Nick said. “I’m sure these investigations take longer than we can imagine.”

  She glanced at him. “Apparently so. But in the meantime, someone is running around thinking he got away with arson. Who knows if he’ll try again?”

  “Casey,” he began, wanting to soothe but not really knowing how.

  With a visible effort, she shook off her mood and smiled at him. “No, it’s okay. There’s nothing I can do about it, after all. Why don’t you show me around?”

  “Why don’t I?” he said.

  His feelings had started to worry him. He’d never before had such a need to protect a woman, to see that she wasn’t hurt. Why Casey, and why now?

  CHAPTER NINE

  LATE IN THE EVENING, Nick had to take care of a problem with the dessert chef. When he return
ed, he couldn’t find Casey anywhere. He had almost decided she’d had the limo driver take her home when he spied Viv, playing a slot machine while her husband looked on.

  They made an interesting pair, with Viv so fair and Luc so dark. Though the band had long since packed up for the evening, Luc and Viv had stayed at the party at Nick’s invitation. Nick noticed they seemed a lot more interested in each other than in feeding coins into the machine.

  “Have you seen Casey?” he asked Viv when he reached them.

  “Not recently. Why, has she disappeared?”

  Nick nodded. “I had to take care of some business, and the next thing I knew, she’d vanished. I thought she might be with you, but obviously not.”

  “Try the deck,” Viv said. “Casey’s not big on crowds. She probably went out there to catch some fresh air.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that.” Sure enough, he found her outside on the second deck. Alone, but she didn’t appear lonely. She was leaning against the railing, facing the river, with her head tilted back and her eyes closed. The wind ruffled her hair and pressed her dress close to her body. He wondered if she’d worn that dress knowing it was designed to make a man sweat. It was sure succeeding with him.

  “Hey, I thought you’d run out on me.”

  She turned, and her smile was easy and inviting. “No, I’m just enjoying the night. Listening to the river.”

  “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He propped his arms on the rail beside her. “Imagine the stories this river could tell.”

  “All about the people who traveled it—from gamblers, to pirates, to runaway slaves,” Casey agreed. “Some of them have had their stories told. Some never will.”

  They were quiet for a moment. The moon shone, a bright strip of light that illuminated the water. Waves lapped quietly against the boat, the noise of the casino behind them muted. The breeze was gentle but steady, and smelled of water and the faint scent of Casey’s perfume. His stomach clenched, desire rising in his bloodstream. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

  “Crowds get to me after a while,” Casey said. “I’m not used to being crammed into one place with so many people.” She laughed. “I need my space, I guess.” Glancing at him, she added, “But crowds don’t seem to bother you. I watched you, working the room. People like to talk to you.”

  That was true, he supposed. “I enjoy them.” Usually.

  Unless he wanted to get a woman alone. Get Casey alone. And naked.

  “They enjoy you, too. Especially the women.” She reached up and tweaked his bow tie. “There’s something about a good-looking man wearing a tux that makes women’s hearts go pitter-patter.”

  “Yeah?” He put his arms around her waist. “What about your heart, Casey? What is it doing right now?”

  She slid her hands up the lapels of his coat, then linked them behind his neck. “Galloping,” she said, that aged-whiskey voice of hers as tempting and sultry as the Louisiana night.

  He kissed her, as he’d been wanting to do all evening. Deep and hot and long.

  She wrapped her arms tightly around him and kissed him back, her soft breasts pressing against his chest, her body warm and supple. His hands slipped down to cup her buttocks and urge her close against his hardness, against the ache.

  He skimmed his lips over the pulse at her neck. “I want to make love to you, Casey.”

  “I know.” Her breathing faltered when he pushed against her. “I want you, too.”

  The words he’d been waiting to hear. He pulled back enough to look in her eyes. “You’re sure?”

  She said nothing, but nodded, her eyes dark and alive with passion.

  “Think you’re too good for my boy, do you?”

  At the slurred words, Nick and Casey both turned. Roland Dewalt stood a short distance away, none too steady on his feet.

  “Roland?” Casey said. “What are you—”

  He interrupted, jabbing a finger in her direction. “You think you’re too good for a Dewalt, but you’re taking up with this gutter rat. You’re nothing but a little slut. Murray’s lucky—”

  He broke off as Nick grabbed him by the shirt front and shook him. “Keep your drunken ramblings to yourself, Dewalt. Neither the lady nor I have any use for them.”

  Dewalt sputtered but subsided, fear lighting his eyes. And it should. If he hadn’t been thirty or more years older than Nick, he’d be lying flat on his back right now.

  Fortunately one of the security guards who must have heard the scuffle walked up, and Nick was able to hand the older man over. “Escort him off the boat,” Nick told the guard, wiping his hands distastefully. To Dewalt he said, “The White Gold can do without your business in the future, Dewalt. Don’t come back.”

  Nick turned to Casey, unsure what to say. She wasn’t looking at him, but stared out across the water, arms crossed protectively over her chest. “I’ve never liked him much,” she said after a moment. “He’s always been hard on Murray. An unforgiving and demanding kind of man. But I didn’t realize until now how much he disliked me.”

  “Sounds like he was just mad because you turned down his son.” He put his arm around her and hugged her. “Don’t let him ruin your evening.”

  “He couldn’t do that. Still, it’s not very pleasant being called a slut.”

  Nick’s arm tightened around her. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have stopped him sooner.”

  Casey shrugged. “I’ll survive. I wonder why Murray told him about what happened? They’re not at all close, but it’s pretty obvious Murray must have said something.”

  “Could be the old man caught him at a weak moment. Forget him.” He kissed her, but briefly. “Let me take you home.” He kissed her again, more deeply this time. “Be with you. Make love to you. What do you say, Casey, will you let me do that?”

  She gazed at him, then smiled, slow and sweet. “Yes.” She pressed her lips against his. “Take me home, Nick.”

  SOMEONE HAD TAUGHT Nick Devlin manners, Casey reflected, as he took the key from her and opened the door to her house. He hadn’t let her open a door or get a drink for herself all night. Not that she minded, she simply wasn’t accustomed to being treated quite so courteously. He pushed open the door, and she walked inside and halted, staring at a scene set for romance.

  The lights were dim and the music low, a background thrum of soft, sexy guitar concertos. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a silver ice bucket next to the couch. On the coffee table, which was covered with a fine white cloth, were two crystal champagne flutes, a crystal bowl filled with strawberries and a silver chafing dish filled with chocolate sauce. A vase of roses—new ones—sat in the center of the low table. Candles were placed in strategic locations around the room, and the air was filled with the scent of a hundred flowers.

  She couldn’t say a word as she watched Nick light the candles. She’d read about such scenes, had seen them in movies, and secretly wondered what it would be like to have a man go to such enormous trouble for her, though she’d never imagined it would happen.

  It was wonderful. For the first time in her life she felt absolutely special to a man. Finally, she found her voice. “How did you manage this?”

  His mouth curved. Those lovely, skillful lips that she knew for a certainty would soon be spreading kisses over her skin. A shiver of anticipation shot up her spine.

  “Betty helped me set it up.”

  “Betty?” She blinked as he popped the cork and poured sparkling liquid into the glasses. “Our Betty? She doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body.”

  “Au contraire. Betty is the soul of romance.” He smiled and handed her a glass. Though he’d left his coat, vest and tie in the car, his white shirt was a beautiful contrast to his black hair, tanned skin and those Irish blue eyes. “Truthfully, though, I’m not sure whether she did it because she felt sorry for a poor, lovesick man, or because she knew it would royally tick off your aunt when she found out about it.”

  The thought had her smiling. “I’m having a ha
rd time seeing you as lovesick.” She, on the other hand, was coming dangerously close to tumbling madly in love. Not a wise thing to do, but at this point almost inevitable. “Besides, I’m not really the type to inspire flights of…passion.” Or so other men had told her often enough.

  “Who said that, Casey?”

  She shrugged. “No one important.”

  “To us,” he said simply, clinking his glass to hers.

  She tasted the champagne, sighing with pleasure as the bubbles of flavor exploded on her tongue. “I thought I wasn’t a champagne sort of woman, but I was wrong.”

  “You’re wrong about something else, too,” he said.

  She could feel his gaze on her as if he’d caressed her. It made her want to rip off her clothes and beg him to have his way with her. How did a man seduce you simply with his eyes? “What?” she whispered.

  He set down his glass, then took hers and set it beside his. He plucked a rose from the vase and twirled the stem through his long fingers. “You dazzle me, Casey.”

  “D-dazzle? M-me?”

  He stroked her cheek with the petals of the rose. “Yes, dazzle,” he repeated. “It makes me want to pamper you.” With a featherlight touch, he slid the rose down her neck. “Romance you,” he murmured, his voice husky and deep. The rose skimmed to her shoulder, ran down the length of her arm. “Seduce you.”

  Suddenly dizzy, she closed her eyes. “You’re succeeding.”

  He laughed softly and moved closer. “Good. Do you know what this rose is called?”

  She opened her eyes and looked at it. The heart was closed tightly, the petals a pale, pearl pink. As the petals unfurled they faded from pink to a whisper of yellow. “Gorgeous?”

  “It’s called Rapture,” he said, and kissed her.

  She was bewitched, she thought as his lips covered hers. In totally over her head, and she couldn’t bring herself to care.

  His hands were buried in her hair. He tasted her as if she were champagne, tilting her head back to increase his access. Then he pushed the strap off her shoulder and caressed it slowly, before his mouth replaced his hand.