by Red Phoenix
It was her unconscious flirtation that made her that much more captivating. With those enchanting blue eyes, and that light sprinkling of freckles across her nose, he was completely taken by her—and the girl didn’t even know it.
After he’d paid the check, Brad found he wasn’t ready to part ways just yet. “Are you a betting woman, Miss Allen?”
She grinned but shook her head. “No, I’m not much of a gambler but I like to play cards.”
“Want to have a little fun?”
She looked into his eyes, as if she were trying to read his intentions, before answering, “Sure.”
“Ever play stud poker? I personally believe you don’t really know a person until you play poker against him.”
Her smile broadened. “That would be lovely. You see, my daddy taught me how to play when I was a little kid.”
Brad rubbed his hands together. “Then this should be fun…”
He pressed his hand against the small of her back as he guided her into the casino. He enjoyed the attention as every head turned to take in the gorgeous redhead by his side. When they approached an open table, Shey suddenly stopped and whispered, “Brad, I don’t have the money to bet.”
“No worries,” he assured her. “This is my treat.”
She shook her head. “As kind as your offer is, I wouldn’t enjoy gambling with your money. It’s not the same.”
Brad nodded in understanding. “I see your point. Just a moment, I’ll be right back.” He went to speak to the pit boss. After making the necessary arrangements, he came back to her and explained, “Ms. Browne has agreed to secure us a private table where money won’t be used as collateral.”
Shey tilted her head. “What do you mean, ‘money won’t be the collateral’?”
“To make it interesting, I thought we’d bet requests rather than cash, and whoever wins the hand gets their bid fulfilled by the other player.”
Shey looked at him suspiciously. “Although I respect you, Brad, I hardly know you. Why would I ever put myself in that position?”
“I’ve already considered that. For your peace of mind, we’ll have a third party at the table. Ms. Browne suggested Wesley Tate. Are you familiar with the man?”
Shey giggled. “Mr. Tate? He’s the front desk manager and is a perfect choice for such an event.”
“Excellent. I’ll order up a couple of drinks while Ms. Browne gets things set up.” He slipped a twenty into the nearest slot machine—an animated game called the Red Phoenix, complete with flaming birds and catchy music. “Why don’t you try your luck while I get our cocktails? Consider it a gift to me. I want to see the level of natural luck you possess.”
Shey shook her head as she sat down at the machine, mumbling, “Based on my luck these days, I’m sure to have it all lost before you return.”
Brad patted her on the shoulder. “I’m actually hoping that’s the case, Miss Allen. It will make beating you at poker that much easier.”
He’d already thought of a few requests for her, and was looking forward to having them fulfilled. While he was paying for the drinks, Ms. Browne walked over and informed him the private room was ready. He thanked her with a generous tip before heading back to the slots.
To his chagrin, Shey’s machine was lit up with fiery phoenixes filling the screen. She jumped up in excitement when she saw him, and pointed at it. “I’m the jackpot winner! Can you believe it? That’s two hundred and forty-two green bills, my friend.”
Brad took her hand and kissed it formally. “Congrats, Miss Allen. Why don’t we cash in your prize before we begin our private game?”
Shey quickly picked up her purse and followed him. “Of course the money is yours—it was your twenty after all.”
“Oh, no, the jackpot is yours to keep.”
“Please—I can’t accept your winnings.”
“You can, and you will,” he stated kindly. “Seeing the excitement on your face when I walked up was worth the price of admission.”
“Does that mean we’ll be playing for real money at the table then?” she asked as the cash was counted out and handed to her.
“Absolutely not.”
Shey stuffed the bills in her small purse and looked up at him with a gleam in her eye. “I’m glad to hear it. My luck seems to have changed, and there are a few things I’m hoping to win from you tonight.”
His laughter filled the air as he escorted her to the private room. “Oh no, darlin’. I’ll be the one beating your cute little panties off this evening.”
A stylish young man wearing a black suit, red tie, and bright red Superman socks greeted them at the private table.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anderson. I see you’ve already met the spa siren.”
“You mean Miss Allen?”
“Yes, sir. She has the most talented fingers in the business.”
Brad gave Shey a sideways glance but refrained from commenting. “I assume Ms. Browne explained the game I’ve requested tonight?”
Wesley put his hands behind his back and clicked his heels. “She did, and I plan to beat your pants off, Mr. Anderson—literally.”
Brad raised his eyebrows. “Really? Only if you have the luck of the Irish, Mr. Tate. You see, I have quite the reputation as a player back in Denver.”
Wesley quipped, “I bet you do, Master Anderson.”
Chuckling as he pulled out the chair for Shey, Brad held out his other hand to greet the man who would be their dealer for the evening. “Thank you for taking on this unusual game of poker. I assure you it won’t get too shocking.”
The man smiled politely. “Trust me, Mr. Anderson, at the Nyte we’ve seen it all.”
“And some of us have done it all…” Wesley murmured wickedly.
The dealer asked, “So, Mr. Anderson, what type of poker game are we playing tonight?”
“Stud poker,” Brad stated as he took off his jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeves before taking a seat.
“Stud poker, is it?” Wesley looked him over with approval as he took a seat on the other side of Shey. “But of course. What else would a man of your considerable looks play?”
He then turned to Shey and asked, “I trust I’m allowed to bet in this game?”
Shey shrugged her shoulders, deferring to Brad.
It was with amusement that Brad delivered the bad news. “You’re simply here to provide a third hand and to act as referee if either of us objects to a bet that’s been placed.”
“Damn…” Wesley pouted. “I was hoping to have a few wishes of my own fulfilled tonight.”
Brad placed his hand over his heart. “Although I don’t swing on that branch, I’m truly honored, Mr. Tate.”
Wesley grinned charmingly. “You may call me Wes.” He turned to Shey and shook his index finger at her. “As I am your superior, you must continue to address me as Mr. Tate—even if you are off the clock.”
She bowed her head slightly. “I would never consider calling you anything else, Mr. Tate.”
Brad admired her grace—a true lady. And an easy mark, he thought with a smirk.
The dealer handed Shey a stack of notecards and two pens while Brad explained to her, “You and I will write down our requests and fold them into fourths. If you think you have a winning hand, you put the request in the middle. After the dealer reveals the other three cards, you have a choice to leave your bet or fold. Whoever has the winning hand wins their bet, unless Wesley’s hand beats ours. In that case, you and I will each be required to remove an article of clothing.”
Shey protested, “A game of strip poker when you’re wearing more clothes than I am?”
“I’m allowing your jewelry to count, Miss Allen.”
Shey settled back into her seat, a grin spreading across her face. “Well, fine then. Let the games begin…”
The dealer handed out two cards to each player. Brad watched Shey closely as she took a peek at her hand. He didn’t miss the twinkle in her eye as she set them back down. “W
hat are the rules about our bets?”
“Keep them simple and something that can be done tonight.”
“Okay. But for the record, intercourse is not on the table.”
“As you wish…” Brad replied with a mischievous grin.
She looked at him momentarily before scribbling down her request, folding it, and gleefully placing it in the middle of the table.
Brad slowly turned up the edges of his cards, keeping a straight face.
Two deuces.
A pair of any sort wasn’t bad, considering only three of them were playing. He wrote down his bet and casually tossed it in the center.
There was no need to bet as each card was revealed, like in a normal hand of poker, so the dealer spread out all three at once after both bets had been placed.
Shey bit her bottom lip as she looked at the cards on the table and then announced confidently, “I’m still in!”
Brad looked the three cards over. They were all the same suit, but there was nothing there to help his hand. Curious to see what Shey was holding, he stated, “I call.”
Shey blushed as she flipped over her cards to reveal she had absolutely nothing.
“You little minx,” he said in admiration, as he turned over his winning deuces.
All her telltale signs had simply been an act. Clever girl…
Brad was about to hand her his request when Wesley stopped him. “Not so fast, Mr. Anderson.” With a dramatic flair, he revealed his hand, which only consisted of a four and seven of hearts. That, however, gave him the winning flush.
Wesley raised his eyebrow suggestively. “And you both know what that means…”
Shey immediately removed her earrings and placed them on the table, giggling to herself.
Brad loosened his tie and slid it off, placing it next to her jewelry. He liked the fact she’d tried to bluff right out of the gate. Now that he knew she was a bluffer, he was certain to win the next hand.
What he hadn’t counted on was Wesley’s impressive winning streak. The next three hands left Brad shirtless and barefoot, while Shey was free of all jewelry and her heels.
“Either you or I need to win the next hand, Miss Allen.”
“You aren’t kidding,” she laughed nervously, staring hard at the cards that had just been dealt.
When Brad lifted his cards and saw a pair of kings, he knew victory was his. He placed his request on the table and tilted his head. “Are you feeling lucky, Miss Allen?”
Shey glanced at her cards again and nodded. “I am.”
The dealer laid out the remaining cards and looked to Brad first. He stared at the six of hearts, the jack of diamonds, and the ten of spades on the table. Nothing posed a threat to his hand. “I’m in,” he declared.
Shey stared at the three cards, nervously biting her lip again. She stared at Brad for several seconds, studying his face before proclaiming, “I call.”
Brad flipped his cards over.
Wesley threw his hand to the center in disgust, while Shey sat back silently watching them both.
Brad grinned as he handed her his request. “Don’t feel bad, darlin’. Someone had to lose.”
“Agreed, so I hope you aren’t too hard on yourself.” She turned her cards over with a triumphant grin. “I believe three of a kind beats a pair.”
He stared down at her cards in disbelief. Had she really just played him—again?
Damn…
Brad graciously took her request and unfolded it, frowning when he read what was written.
Tell me who Troy is and why the name still upsets you.
“This is supposed to be a fun evening of gambling, Miss Allen, not a therapy session.”
Shey shrugged. “I find it entertaining to learn little-known facts about the men I date.”
Brad sighed as he put her bet back on the table. “Because I am a man of my word, I will accept this request, but I’m not happy about it.” To the dealer he barked, “Keep dealing.”
“But what about my request?” Shey protested.
“It’ll be honored after the game.”
“Great. That gives me another idea…” she told him, writing down her next one.
Brad was impressed, but exasperated, that she’d manipulated him twice. He snuck a peek at his hand and smiled at her. “The gloves are officially off, missy.”
Her delighted giggles filled the room.
It was with immense satisfaction he handed her his first request the very next hand. Brad watched her eyes grow wide when she read it out loud. “A kiss?”
“Just a simple kiss.”
“Now?”
He leaned in close, his lips dangerously close to hers. She closed her eyes in anticipation, until he whispered, “No, Miss Allen, after the game is over.”
She opened her eyes and pouted. “You are a wicked man, Brad Anderson.”
Several consecutive wins had him on even ground again, and it was with great joy that he watched Shey’s face when Wesley won the next hand.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered, looking bereft as she contemplated which piece of clothing to take off.
“Your panties would work in a pinch,” Brad suggested with a naughty grin. “Allows you to keep your dignity while still honoring the bet.”
She nodded, accepting his recommendation. Shey turned away as she carefully removed her underwear without exposing herself. She placed the sexy thong on top of her pile and looked at him expectantly.
Knowing that Shey was bare under that dress was exceedingly hot. He undid his belt and slipped it through the belt loops, taking his time as he rolled it up before dropping it on the table.
He smiled in satisfaction at the sexy clank the buckle made as it landed. “One more hand, Miss Allen?”
Shey’s breath increased as she weighed the risks. “Yes, one more.”
After looking at their final cards, each of them wrote down a last request. Shey sighed nervously as she placed hers in the middle. Brad noticed that her eyes didn’t leave it, even when the dealer laid out the other three cards. Whatever she’d requested had her anxious, and that was arousing to him.
Brad stared at the three cards, shocked to see he had a royal flush. He should have been thrilled, but he was far more interested in Shey’s request than in winning the hand. “I call.”
Shey laid down a pair of threes and looked at him hopefully.
“Damn…you got me beat.” Brad tossed his cards to the dealer in mock disgust without revealing them to her.
Shey’s hand visibly shook as she handed him her final bet. “Don’t read it just yet,” she begged.
Brad was willing, but added a stipulation as he held the unopened request up. “Fine. I’ll refrain from reading this only if you agree to walk out just as you are.”
Her eyes darted to Wesley, who nodded. She looked down at her bare feet, the only part of her body that was exposed, and shrugged. “Deal.”
Brad tucked her last bet in his pocket while Wesley quickly gathered up their clothing. Mr. Tate stood before Brad, his eyes transfixed on Brad’s bare chest. “I’d be honored to escort you to your room, Mr. Anderson.”
“Much appreciated.”
Brad turned to the dealer and handed him a tip. “Thank you for your help tonight.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
Brad walked out of the room proudly, baring his muscular chest to the world with a beautiful, elegantly dressed—and deliciously barefoot—redhead wrapped on his arm.
Play in the casino stopped for a moment as the two walked through the main floor in their various states of undress. He took pride in the fact that the men were openly gawking at Shey, their facial expressions communicating their admiration of her striking looks.
Wesley guided them to the private staff elevator. It wasn’t until the doors finally closed that Shey giggled in relief. “God only knows what they’re thinking about us.”
“They’re thinking I’m one hell of a lucky guy,” Brad stated.
Shey snorted daintily. “No, the women were definitely thinking, ‘Who the hell is that hunk of a man and how do I tap me some of that?’”
Brad’s booming laughter filled the elevator. “Trust me, Shey, all eyes were on you.”
Wesley’s eyes returned to Brad’s chest for a moment before he glanced away.
“Exactly,” Shey stated in triumph. “Even Mr. Tate agrees.”
Brad turned to Shey and casually rubbed his hand over his pecs, watching with amusement as her eyes widened while they followed the movement, almost as if she were in a trance. When the doors opened, she started, the spell suddenly broken.
Wesley held the elevator as the two exited and followed them, but Shey stopped abruptly.
“Brad, I’m not sure…”
She looked like she was about to bolt, so he placed his hand on her arm to reassure her. “Not sure of what, Miss Allen?”
“If I’m ready for this.”
“Every request will be honored to your complete satisfaction. I am a gentleman, after all.”
She let out a nervous sigh. “Every one?”
That final, unknown bet of Shey’s burned like fire in his pocket and had him totally distracted. Brad fiddled with it, wondering what the hell she’d asked of him that had her so on edge.
He leaned forward and whispered so only she could hear. “First, I’d like to show you my little orange pussy, Miss Allen.”
Shey looked stunned. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Brad put his finger to his lips. “Shh…it’s our little secret.”
She tsked, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes as she glanced in Wesley’s direction. “Well, Mr. Anderson, I would definitely like to see that.”
“Then you shall…”
Wesley tried to hide his smile, chuckling to himself as he handed Mr. Anderson their clothes. “A night at the Nyte is never boring.”
“Thank you for your assistance tonight, Mr. Tate.”
Brad tried to hand the man a tip, but Wesley refused it. “No, Mr. Anderson. I was happy to act as the third hand to your unique poker game.”
