Game of Chance

by Donna Vitek

  Jason hadn't come home when Katherine went to bed at one the next morning and though she lay awake for hours, hoping to hear him return, he still didn't come. At last, exhausted, she drifted off to sleep, but a sense of foreboding engulfed her as she arose the next morning and dressed. When she stepped out of her room, then started down the stairs, the front door opened and Jason entered the foyer, still dressed in the clothes he had worn yesterday when he had left with Julie. Katherine had suspected he would spend the night with the dancer, but to have that suspicion confirmed was like having a knife twisted in her chest. With all the effort she could muster, she tried to arrange her face into a stony expressionless mask. Suddenly she felt as if she had joined Jess Whitney in that sisterhood of foolish women who fell in love with the wrong men, because, despite all Katherine's firm resolutions, she was in love with Jason. She knew she must be or the thought of him with another woman wouldn't cause her such excruciating pain.

  Chapter Nine

  It was a gray morning. The sky above Tahoe had been overcast for the past two days. A drizzling rain was falling when Katherine got up on Saturday but it wasn't the sort of cleansing refreshing rain that cools the air. Actually an oppressive mugginess had settled over the lake and along its shore. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Katherine sought the coolest clothes she owned—a worn pair of denim cut-offs and an equally worn and faded denim halter. She shunned even her sandals, feeling considerably cooler when she could walk around barefoot on the hardwood floors. She re-braided her hair, wound it into a bun on her nape, then left her room.

  Poised at the head of the stairs a moment later, she gazed down thoughtfully at Jason's back as he sat at the table in the great room typing steadily again, as he had done almost all of yesterday. What in the world was he doing? she wondered, a slight frown knitting her smooth brow. His preoccupation with that typewriter had begun to pique her curiosity as early as yesterday afternoon. Now that she realized he was beginning another day the same way, she felt an intense desire to discover exactly what he was up to. She was not eager to simply ask him outright. Since her talk with Jess, and especially since he had apparently spent Wednesday night with Julie, Katherine had been trying her best to avoid him. Obviously he had sensed her reluctance to remain in the same room alone with him because he too had become very aloof and sometimes Katherine felt there was a nearly tangible tension between them. It was an uncomfortable situation, at least for her. She could no longer deny to herself that she loved him, yet had to try to protect herself by always hiding what she felt. Consequently, she felt as if she were being pulled in two different directions, which was very wearing on her nerves. Even now, early in the morning, every muscle in her body was tensed as if she were balancing herself on the edge of a precipice so that the seemingly incessant tapping of the typewriter was an agitating aggravation.

  Heaving a disgruntled sigh, she wandered down to the great room, past the sofa, where Georgia lay sprawled out asleep on the Navajo rug. With no appetite for breakfast, Katherine moved aimlessly around the room feeling uncharacteristically bored. Finally, Jason noticed her presence and glanced away from the typewriter over his shoulder, uttering a gruff, "Good morning," before turning around again.

  "Morning," she murmured, trying futilely not to notice how his sun-bleached hair, still damp from his shower, curled slightly on the nape of his neck. She ached to touch him yet knowing she didn't dare, she hastily turned to the ceiling-high bookcase, scanning the titles, hoping to find something interesting to read that would occupy her thoughts for a while. Unusually, none of the titles appealed to her and she suddenly felt more discontent and bored than she had ever felt before in her entire life. She hid a yawn behind her hand, then stretched lazily, crossing her arms behind her head then extending them as far above her as she could reach as she tried to ease some of the tension that gripped her body. It was in that ridiculous position that Jason found her as he turned abruptly. Katherine froze, nearly hypnotized by the change in his expression. Gone was all the former aloofness. As his gaze swept over her, his features relaxed momentarily. Even his finely chiseled mouth altered slightly. Suddenly the fuller lower lip seemed more sensuously carved.

  A slight movement by him alerted her to a danger she didn't fully understand but respected nonetheless. Blushing scarlet, she dropped her arms down to her sides again, tugging at the bottom of her halter that had hiked up during her stretching exercise. "Wh-what are you typing?" she asked breathlessly, not quite able to meet his intent gaze. Forcing herself to take a few steps toward him, she was able to see that the paper in the typewriter appeared to contain something that looked like notes. Smiling rather uncertainly, she nodded in the typewriter's direction. "What are you doing? Setting down an unbeatable system for winning at high-stakes poker?"

  "Something like that," he murmured, still gazing at her relentlessly. Turning in his swivel chair to face her, he leaned back, clasping his arms round the back of his head. "Another rainy day," he commented idly, his expression becoming remote again. "What do you plan to do with yourself?"

  Katherine clasped her hands together in front of her, lifting her shoulders in a slight shrug. "I don't really know." She sighed disgruntedly. "I just feel so… so restless. Do you ever feel that way?"

  "Sometimes," he answered expressionlessly. "Everybody does."

  "But when you get that way, I guess you just pack up and move on to another gambling resort somewhere," Katherine said, not recognizing the exasperated glint that flared in his eyes until it was too late.

  "You can't cure restlessness by changing locales," he said, his jaw tight. "Usually our discontent comes from within us, not from our surroundings." At her surprised look, he smiled sardonically. "What's wrong? Did you assume we gamblers never have deep thoughts, that we never consider anything beyond our next poker game?"

  Katherine hastily shook her head, gesturing weakly. "No, I didn't assume…"

  "Of course you did," he interrupted curtly, turning his back to her again. Without another word, he began typing once more.

  Katherine really felt miserable now. She hadn't meant to irritate him. There was enough tension between them anyhow. The last thing she wanted to do was to add more strain to their already uneasy relationship. Gathering up all her courage, she went to stand beside him. "I—I can type fairly well," she said hesitantly, trying to smile. "I'd be glad to help you with this."

  "I prefer doing it myself," was his brusque reply.

  The obvious rebuff hurt and Katherine moved away, walking to where Georgia slept on the rug. Despite all Katherine's overtures, the dog only opened her eyes a couple of times, much more interested in continuing her nap than she was in play.

  "Gosh, she sure is lazy when it rains," Katherine commented aloud, rising up from her knees to go stare out the window at the rain-drenched landscape. In the gray of the day, the woods were darker, the foliage lusher and a deeper green. A gentle wind jostled the heavy boughs of the pines and cedars, scattering crystalline drops of rain down onto the needle-carpeted ground. She tapped her fingernails against the windowpanes, her restlessness mounting steadily. "When's the sun supposed to shine again?" she asked, turning to face the room once more. "Have you heard the weather report?" When Jason continued typing, only shaking his head in answer, she wandered past the dog again, nudging her firm black nose with her bare toes. Georgia didn't stir. Katherine sighed, more audibly than she meant to. Yet Jason didn't even seem to notice that obvious signal of her discontent.

  He did cease in his typing for a moment, however. Leaning back in the leather swivel chair, he raked long fingers through the thick swathe of hair that brushed his forehead, as if he were deep in thought.

  Katherine watched him, her heartbeat quickening as he clasped his hands behind his head and the muscles of his broad shoulders rippled beneath the cotton knit fabric of his cream-colored rugby-styled shirt. Why did he always have to look so attractive and irresistibly virile that she could never see him withou
t longing to feel the smooth tautness of his bronze skin beneath her fingertips again? It was insane that she had fallen in love with him in the first place. He was exactly what she had never wanted a man to be, yet she wanted him, more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. Frustrated by the ongoing battle of conflicting emotions within her, she dragged her gaze away from him.

  "Want some coffee?" she asked softly, for lack of anything better to say. "I'd be glad to make some."

  "No, thanks," he muttered shortly, resuming his work at the typewriter. "I already had four cups this morning. I think that's enough."

  Unwisely choosing to ignore the trace of impatience in his voice, she went to lounge back against the roll-top desk beside the typing table. Crossing her long shapely legs at her ankles, she lifted her eyebrows questioningly. "Why did you need four cups of coffee to wake up this morning? You didn't get home all that late last night."

  Cursing explicitly when he hit several wrong keys, Jason stopped typing, raising his head to look at her, his steel blue eyes glinting. "Checking up on me?" he questioned sharply. "Maybe I should start signing in and out like freshman girls in college dorms have to do."

  At his harsh tone, Katherine caught her upper lip between her teeth. She had never seen him in a mood like this. Either he was typing something very important or he was angry at her for some reason and fearing anger had prompted his sarcasm, she shook her head. "I wasn't checking on you," she murmured, her eyes deep dark pools of green. "I—I just happened to still be awake when you came in." When he only continued to stare at her almost broodingly, she quickly looked away, gesturing hesitantly, "Well, maybe it's too muggy and hot for coffee. So how about some iced tea or lemonade?"

  "No. I don't want iced tea; I don't want lemonade," he answered, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I wouldn't mind having a drink right now, but if I do, it'll be something considerably stronger than coffee, tea, or lemonade, I assure you."

  "But it's only ten in the morning." Katherine frowned bewilderedly. "You never drink a lot so why would you want to start so early in the day?"

  "Why?" he repeated mockingly, piercing eyes raking over her. "For heaven's sake, Kit, you could drive any man to drink at dawn."

  "Me?" she exclaimed softly. "I don't know what you mean. Why should anyone want to drink because of me?"

  Jason stood also, towering above her, his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his navy trousers. Narrowed eyes, glittering dangerously, surveyed her for a long tense moment. Then, amazingly, he put out his right hand and ran it lightly over her slender left thigh, smiling mockingly when she trembled violently and jerked herself upright to stand staring up at him wide eyed. "You're such a little girl sometimes. You really don't know how you could drive a man to drink, do you? So I'd better tell you how. I could use a calming drink right now because you're wandering around here in those Daisy Mae shorts and that skimpy little halter. And when you entice me by occasionally stretching like a lazy little kitten, you can't expect me to keep my mind on what I'm doing. You obviously don't understand exactly what I'd like to be doing with you right now. It's a quiet, rainy day, Kit, and I'd very much enjoy spending all of it in my bed with you. Now, do you understand?"

  Katherine's cheeks bloomed with entrancing rose color as her legs suddenly went weak beneath her. Nearly mesmerized by the passionate gaze that seemed to envelop her in its warm promise, she couldn't even shake her head. But at last she stammered an apologetic denial. "I didn't… Jason, I didn't mean to…"

  "If you could only see yourself," he nearly growled, taking one step closer to her. "You're so inexperienced you really don't realize what kind of effect you have on me, do you? You may look every inch a woman but you're as innocent as a child. And you make me feel like a cad for wanting to make love to you."

  Katherine's small chin jutted out in defiance. "I'm not that innocent," she protested heatedly. "And I'm certainly not a child."

  "Prove it," he countered, lifting his hand as if to touch her again, then letting it drop. He heaved a sigh, massaging the nape of his neck wearily. "Just sit down somewhere and give me a moment's peace. I have work to do."

  "Well, excuse me for living," she muttered petulantly, flouncing past him to subside in a huff on the sofa. Her green eyes glittered, challenging him as he watched her for a long moment, but when he shrugged at last and sat down at the typewriter again, her shoulders slumped. Her expression grew pensive as she stared intently at his broad back. This situation was crazy. He seemed to want her as much as she wanted him and for a fraction of a second, she wished she hadn't imposed such a strict code of morals on herself. If only she had the courage to drift into an intimate relationship with him, then at least she would know what it was like to give herself to the man she loved. Yet, even as she wished she could be different, she knew she wouldn't change. She would never be completely happy in an intimate relationship that wasn't also a lasting commitment but Jason wasn't the kind of man to make commitments. So, it was a stalemate.

  Wrapping her arms across her chest, she stared down at Georgia. The dog sighed heavily in her sleep and turned over onto her back, thrusting one gangling leg straight up in the air. "How can she sleep in that crazy position?" Katherine muttered aloud. When Jason only mumbled something incomprehensible in response, she got up and wandered back to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. She chose a pictorial history of Nevada, a heavy volume which slipped right through her fingers and crashed with a resounding bang onto the hardwood floor.

  "Clumsy oaf," she whispered furiously, bending over to pick up the book. When she straightened again, she found Jason's darkening gaze drifting slowly upward along the slender length of her legs over the gentle curve of her hips, along the inward arching of her waist to the enticing hint of the shadowed hollow between her breasts revealed in the vee-neck of her halter. For a breathtaking moment, his eyes lingered there, then moved upward to meet hers.

  "Are you being deliberately provocative, Kit?" he murmured, his voice deep and husky. With lithe ease of movement, he reached out and caught her wrist in one large hand, drawing her resolutely between his legs. His hands spanned her waist, his fingers brushing and caressing the sensitive skin of her bare midriff as he pulled her down to sit on one muscular thigh.

  Her breath caught in her throat; her hands clutched the knit fabric of his sleeves as he traced a light fingertip along the neckline of her halter. When he lowered his head, his firm lips following the same path as his fingertip, a tremor of excitement trickled along her spine, awakening an empty aching inside her and almost of their own volition, her hands moved up to link behind his neck. She wanted his kiss more than she had ever wanted anything, but he didn't kiss her. Instead, he lifted his head again, capturing her bemused gaze in the stormy blue depths of his eyes.

  "Is that it, Kit? Are you inviting me to take you up to my bed and make love to you?"

  Though she longed to say yes, the remnants of her sanity wouldn't allow her to. Unhappily, she shook her head.

  His pulse beat rapidly in his temples. A slight strained smile curved his lips. "No, I didn't think you really meant to be issuing an invitation," he said, his voice deceptively soft. Then without warning, he stood her on her feet and put her from him almost roughly. His expression became grim. "So, settle down somewhere and stop flitting around here in that provocative outfit. Read a book; play with the puppy; take a nap on the sofa. Just do something and stop distracting me. Please."

  Scarlet color flared in her cheeks and she lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry."

  Jason turned away. "Just go sit down, Kit."

  She went and sat. After five minutes of staring at the implacable line of his back, however, she waited for a lull in his seemingly incessant typing. When silence finally came, she sat up straight on the sofa, declaring tersely, "I seem to be getting in your way here. So if your grumpiness this morning is a hint for me to get out, I'll leave. I can book a room in a hotel."

  Muttering impatiently, Jason turned to glare at her.
"I rarely hint, Kit. If I wanted you to leave, I'd say so. So stop jumping to conclusions and shut up so I can get this work done."

  Defensive anger erupted in Katherine and she jumped to her feet, glaring right back at him. "You're in a rotten mood today," she declared forcefully. "And I don't have to sit here and let you pick on me. I'm going for a walk. Maybe you'll be nicer when I come back."

  "Take your raincoat," he calmly called after her as she marched into the foyer to the closet. "And I may not be here at all when you come back. There's a big game starting this afternoon. I don't want to miss it."

  "Good," she snapped back at him, yanking her grass-green plastic raincoat from a hanger and grabbing her white vinyl rain hat. "And don't think you need to hurry home on my account. I do just fine here, all by myself."

  "I'm glad to hear it," he replied laconically, a maddening note of amusement in his deep voice. "So I'll probably not see you until tomorrow. Have a nice walk."

  Too incensed to think of a cutting retort, Katherine went out the front door, closing it forcefully behind her before he could say anything else.

  She walked through the rain-soaked woods to her father's house, knowing he wouldn't be there and hoping Wendi wouldn't be either. It was Mallie she wanted to see, needed to talk to, because Mallie represented a semblance of security and at the moment, Katherine very much needed to feel secure with someone, somewhere.

  Katherine found Mallie in the kitchen getting a head start on dinner. Offering to help, she sat down at the wooden worktable and began stuffing green peppers with a mixture of ground round beef, rice, onion, and to add a bit of zest, a pinch of chopped basil leaves. As she spooned this mixture into the fresh peppers, Mallie stood at the stove, keeping a close watch on her special tomato sauce that was simmering in a small pot.