His heart hurt, and he fervently wished that he could go back to that day in the garage and start everything all over.
Then Gavin felt her hand covering his, reassuring him. She was rubbing it gently, telling him with her touch that everything would be fine. But this time Gavin knew that their connection, their special sense of well-being, wasn’t enough. For a moment he thought of Aunt Jane and wished for a little of her psychic ability. If not that, some of the fate that had conjured up such a match would be welcomed.
In the other room the sound of the waterfall tinkled happily. The dogs moved occasionally causing their collars to jingle. A waiter appeared from nowhere to add ice and refresh their drinks. When they reached Stacy’s side, she shook her head in refusal. Other than touching Gavin’s hand she remained absolutely still, absolutely regal.
“Very well,” Sol agreed, passing the cards to the producer who shuffled them clumsily. “No limit to the pot, but the bets must be in ten-dollar increments.”
Stacy would have preferred a limit to the pot, but she knew she’d pushed her advantage already. Now it was time to find out how lucky this Lanham was. She gave a useless tug to her dress. It didn’t move. That was probably for the best. If it wouldn’t come up, it wouldn’t go down. Every eye at the table followed her movement, including Gavin’s whose accompanying pinch was duly noted by Stacy as the producer began dealing the cards.
Once around, hole card facedown. Pause.
The dealer turned up the next card for each player. Stacy drew a four, Sol showed a nine, one of the bankers a six of diamonds, the other a queen, and the producer a jack. Oops, that made Stacy’s possibilities a bit more risky.
Everybody took a quick look.
Stacy had a jack of clubs. She reviewed her memory. At this point the hole card meant nothing. In stud poker the player received five cards with only the hole card hidden. It was too early yet to speculate on possible combinations.
“High card bets,” Sol announced, and watched the banker holding the queen throw out a bill. The others followed suit.
When play had returned to the dealer, there was still less than two hundred dollars in the pot. The third round of cards was dealt.
An eight of spades to the producer; a three of clubs to the banker holding the queen, who promptly threw in his hand; a seven of diamonds to the second banker, possible straight; a second four to Stacy, who let out a half breath; and a second nine to Sol. Two pairs showed, but Sol’s nine’s were higher than Stacy’s four.
“Pair of nines bets,” Sol said. “I’ll put in ten and raise you ten.”
“I’ll stay,” the remaining banker said, “just for practice.”
“I’ll see your tens,” Stacy said, “and I’ll raise you two more tens.”
Sol looked at the other players and lifted his eyebrows in astonishment. But Gavin realized what she was doing. She was only dealing in increments of ten dollars. He didn’t know how long Sol would let this go on, but at least she wasn’t likely to be wiped out instantly.
The producer folded.
The betting continued. Stacy was beginning to feel the tension. She’d been through this so often with Lucky, hovering in the background trying not to reveal her anxiety, watching her father cover his disappointment when he lost by making even more reckless bets on the next hand. But this was her first time to feel the pressure herself.
She felt Gavin’s hand begin to move slowly, twisting until their fingers were intertwined. They were down to the last card. Sol now had three nines and a queen. Stacy had a jack in the hole, one showing, and two fours.
For a second she chewed on her lower lip as Sol bet. Then, feeling Gavin’s touch, she nodded and added more tens to the pile.
In slow motion, Sol slid her final card across the table and turned it up. A jack. She’d drawn it, a full house. But there was still Sol to contend with, Sol and the Lanham curse. Would she win, or would she, like Lucky, lose a bet that, though low for the table, was of monumental importance to her?
Sol didn’t show any emotion when the last card was dealt. A deuce. So Stacy still didn’t know. Everything depended on his hole card. Everything depended on her luck.
Gavin marveled at Stacy’s coolness. He thought for a moment that the Braves could use her on their ball team. The race for the pennant wouldn’t rattle her. And she was probably as good at baseball as she was at poker.
Sol flung three tens into the pot and said, “All right, Stacy, we’ve let you have a practice round, now let’s see what we’ve got.”
“Fine.” Stacy matched his bet. “Show me.”
Stacy held her breath as Sol turned over his hole card. A king. No help. He only had three of a kind. Stacy let out a deep sigh of relief and looked up at Gavin with triumphant excitement in her eyes, as she said, “You turn it over, darling.”
Gavin didn’t have to. He knew what he’d find. A jack. A full house. Stacy had won the pot, and she’d done it on her terms.
“Thank you, Sol,” she said as she gathered up the money. “For indulging me. This was only a test, a warm-up for the big match tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night?” He frowned and leaned back in his chair. “Why wait?”
“Why not? I understand anticipation is half the fun of gambling, isn’t it? Besides, I want you to have all day tomorrow to worry.”
“But then, my dear, so will you.”
“Now, suppose you tell me what you’re doing here?”
Gavin was holding her arm in a painful grip, practically dragging her into the elevator.
“Not now, darling,” she said with a purr in her voice. “I never give away my strategy in advance.” Stacy blinked her eyes wildly and raised her gaze toward the corner of the elevator.
Belatedly Gavin followed her lead and noticed the almost hidden camera that was recording their movements.
“I just wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” he said smoothly, “but I’m glad to see you.” He turned her into his arms with a motion that said he knew they were being watched. “Very glad.”
Without making an obvious scene she couldn’t avoid his kiss, she told herself as his lips claimed hers. Sol should believe they were so besotted with each other that they would be easy marks, she rationalized as her lips parted involuntarily, welcoming the invasion by the man whose tongue was giving new meaning to the term sneak attack.
The dogs relaxed.
Stacy and Gavin forgot about Sol, the camera, and their reason for being in Vegas. Wild hot kisses were given and received. Heated hands touched and stroked. The elevator opened and they were in the lobby. Neither had punched a floor button. As the sounds from the casino sifted through, Gavin finally lifted his head and looked around. Stacy’s face was flushed. Her breathing fast. Her eyes like hot cider sprinkled with firelight.
“Uh, Princess, I think we’ve arrived.”
“Not yet, Gatsby, but five will get you ten that we will.”
“Frankenstein! Dracula! Come!” Gavin took Stacy’s hand and led her across the lobby, the dogs trotting dutifully behind.
Two gamblers, who’d had a bit too much to drink, stared at Stacy and let out long, low whistles. “Elvira and her ghouls,” one said. “Do you think they’re real, or are we having an hallucination?”
“Hallucination,” the second one said confidently. “Frankenstein is eight feet tall, and Dracula wears a cape. What we saw was a couple of midgets.”
Gavin found a small spot of grass, encircled by flowers and hugging a fountain. The dogs investigated the flower beds, satisfied that Stacy was content to rest her head against Gavin’s shoulder.
“Now,” Gavin said, turning her to face him. “We talk.”
“No talking, Gatsby, only wild loving. I’m tired of playing it safe and hiding from what I am.”
He surveyed her gown from the slit in the skirt to the nothing piece of fabric that was trying to cover her nipples. “Anastasia Lanham, you’re hiding very little tonight, very little.”
; “Actually,” she said, laying her palms on the collar of his tux and staring up at him with a look that said he could proceed to go and collect anything he wanted. “Actually, I’m not hiding anything. You’re looking at everything I’m wearing right now.”
“Lordy, Stacy, you’re vamping me into a state of no return.”
“Good. Come boys! Heel!”
The dogs immediately fell behind as Stacy started back inside the hotel, and into the elevator, where she pressed the button for her floor.
“Try not to choke me,” Gavin said.
“Choke you?”
“With that invisible leash you’ve slipped around my neck.”
“Oh, is that what’s holding us together? I thought it was some kind of energy field.”
She handed Gavin her key and waited as he opened the door. Now that she’d let herself show him how she felt and what she wanted, she was having second thoughts. Suppose he didn’t like Anastasia, the gambler. Suppose her new glamour was old hat to a playboy like Gavin? Suppose he didn’t want to stay with her?
Gavin closed the door behind her and gave out a low whistle. “Wow, you sure know how to set the scene, Princess.”
“I just wanted to pull it off.”
“So did—do I—after we talk.”
She turned to face him and lifted her eyes. “Do you really want to talk right now?”
The savage look of desire in her eyes zapped him, taking his breath away. “No, no, I think I can wait for talk, but not for you.”
He found the zipper and slid it down with a soft swish. The dress fell to the floor in a glittering pool of red around her feet.
Her hair was a mass of dark-feathered curls, touched with lemony light. Her body took on a translucent golden color. The only things Anastasia Lanham was wearing beneath her gown were the thigh-high red stockings, lace panties, and the silver dollar on the chain ground her neck.
Gavin knew she was breathing because he could see the rise and fall of the silver dollar. He wasn’t certain about himself.
They claimed each other fast and furiously, reaching out in wild longing, their bodies saying what their minds were not yet able to express. Later as she lay beneath him, breathless and filled with warmth, she allowed her eyes to meet his.
“I want you to know, Gavin, that no matter what else happens, this matters,” she said. “What happens at the gambling table doesn’t.”
“That’s your heart talking, Princess, not your mind.”
“I’m learning to listen to my heart. I think perhaps it’s wiser about some things. It took me a long time to understand that.”
“You’ve been around Mother and Aunt Jane too long,” Gavin said resolutely. “They’ve corrupted you.”
“Nonsense, they’ve simply learned that life is to be lived, not regimented. Lucky understood that too.”
They were sprawled across the still-made bed in Stacy’s suite, limbs entwined, bodies fraught with the scent of lovemaking and the satisfaction of having been loved well.
“Now,” Gavin said seriously, “what are you doing here?”
“The same thing you’re doing here. “I’m just better equipped to do it.”
“Gavin reached out and put his hand on her breast. “If you mean knocking the eyes out of those poor unsuspecting men, I’d say you have the right equipment.”
“I meant gambling. I don’t know how good I am, Gavin. I never gambled for money, only with Lucky. But he taught me well. When we played for matchsticks, I always won.”
“From what I’ve heard about Lucky’s gambling, that wouldn’t have been hard to do.”
“He didn’t always lose. When he wasn’t desperate, he could win. He was lucky. He just wasn’t smart. Or, lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe he was smarter than I suspected. He was sick. Nobody knew but him. Something was beginning to affect his thinking and, in the end, he didn’t care anymore.”
“I can understand that,” Gavin said softly. “I think I got desperate too. I’d always thought I would make my first million by the time I was thirty. When I hadn’t, I guess I caught a case of Get Rich Quick. Now, I don’t care anymore. Money isn’t as important as it once was.”
“I thought your classic car idea was pretty far-out,” Stacy admitted, “but from the work orders and the telephone calls we are already getting, I’ve changed my mind.”
“Oh, I never doubted the plan,” Gavin admitted. “I just was in too big a hurry. I’m afraid it’s a Magadan characteristic. I’ve always dealt with people who were movers and shakers, and it’s easy to maneuver when you’re using other people’s money. I should have taken my time. I’ve learned my lesson about jumping into something before I’m prepared.”
“Is that so?” Stacy shifted beneath his touch and stretched to reach his chin with her lips. “Then how do you account for our being on top of the sheets instead of underneath them.”
“I think you know I was talking about business. This, my darling, is personal. Purely personal.” He pulled her over him and claimed her nipple with his lips.
“Ahh! I don’t think this would be considered a moment of purity by Lonnie. In fact, given the opportunity, I suspect that Lonnie wouldn’t be above forcing a shotgun wedding if he thought you’d done me wrong.”
Wedding? Gavin felt an incredible wave of new warmth sweep over him. That stupid smile had to be covering his face again. He and Stacy had been connected from the beginning, now they were committed, and that thought brought him nothing but pleasure.
“You’re pregnant?”
“No, at least not so far as I know. But I have no intention of living in sin. Lucky might have run away from your aunt, but I’m a Lanham who goes after what she wants. Once were done settling with Sol, I expect you to make an honest woman out of me.”
“You mean when I get done settling with Sol. Right now, the only situation we have to deal with is looking for this solution.” He lifted her even higher, then lowered her, joining them together in such a way that he felt as if their souls were touching.
Later, as she collapsed, sated and drained on top of him, she asked the question that had been nagging at her all evening. “Why did you greet me as if you’d expected me?”
“When I saw you in that doorway, looking like a cross between Cher and Madonna, I knew that I had to claim you or one of those men would try to ravish you right there on the table.”
“Gavin, I’m a much more private person than that.”
“Yes, but I’d have had to defend your honor. I’d probably have been challenged, the dogs would have attacked, and I might have suffered mortal injury in the melee.”
“You forget, darling, I made you immortal. You’re mine forever.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
But Gavin knew forever depended on his finding a way to get both of them out of the poker game. Long after he felt Stacy relax into sleep, he lay basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he knew that he had to be the one to do it. He’d made the mess, not Stacy.
Stacy roused for a sleepy moment and planted one last satisfied kiss on Gavin’s chest, as she whispered, “Ah, Gatsby, I love you so much. And I’m going to find a way to keep Sol from trying to destroy either of us.”
That’s what you think. Stacy was his heart. She was more important than Sol or his aunt’s house or any amount of money. Even if Sol won that wouldn’t end it. Sol wanted to punish Stacy, and the poker game afforded him an even better way to do that now. Once more, Gavin had given in to their enemy.
Gavin knew that only a fool would have missed the way he felt about Stacy. If there’d been any doubt, those kisses in the elevator and the fact that he was there, in her bed, would have been final proof. Sol had to know that he loved Stacy, and more—that she loved him in return. Now, by hurting one, he hurt the other. Everything was complicated. Everything except Stacy and Gavin’s love for her.
Stacy was gone the next morning when Gavin
woke. With distaste he climbed back into his wrinkled dinner clothes and made his way to his room, where he showered and sent his tux out to be pressed.
Yes, he was absolutely besotted with the woman. Yes, he agreed that she was perfect for his family and for him. Yes, he was sitting there hard and longing for her when he’d just spent most of the night making love to her.
After a pot of black coffee, he pushed those thoughts from his mind and began to study the possibilities. The only answer to the problem was money. With enough money he could repay Sol, pay off the mortgage on Jane’s house, and protect the garage. The rest of the center could come later.
But, it took money to make money. And he didn’t have nearly enough. Still, from little acorns came the mighty oak. He let out a deep sigh and dressed. He’d take what they had, and what they had was …
His pockets were empty. All his money was gone. Concentrating on Stacy’s room, he could clearly see the empty dressing table where, at one point during the night, she’d emptied her purse and sprinkled the bills across the surface. Gavin had assumed when he left her room that Stacy was out walking the dogs. He’d been wrong.
Quickly he made his way to the lobby, scanning the gambling rooms, the slot-machine corridor, the restaurants. Nothing. Checking her room again, he found it empty. Stacy was gone.
“Disappeared early this morning,” the desk clerk said, with a half-hidden smirk. “She charged her suite to you.”
Gavin was stunned. His pockets were so empty that he couldn’t even afford taxi fare to the airport to check the passenger lists. After giving a sob story to the travel agent in the lobby, he learned that no ticket had been sold to Anastasia Lanham. Gavin was confused.
By late afternoon he returned to his room, where he found a note from Stacy.
Dearest Gatsby,
When you read this you will know that I’m gone. You’ll also know that I’ve taken your money. I wasn’t certain that my luck would hold, but it did. Through the day I’ve covered the strip, turning our money into a stake worthy of a real challenge to Sol. I don’t know if the Lanham luck has changed, or if it’s just being connected to you that’s made me lucky, but I feel right about this. Wait for midnight and sleep with the windows open.
Lean Mean Loving Machine Page 13
