Betting on Love

by Mary Beesley

  “Are you going to tell me more about your love of swimming?” Tempest asked. “Is it lap swimming you like? Or lounging poolside? Or paddling around the filthy Texas lakes?”

  “I do not swim in the Texas lakes.” He shuddered at the thought of all the possible diseases in that warm brown liquid. He swam in chlorinated pools or saltwater. “I picked it up when I started training for a triathlon, and I really like it. I go three or four times a week. I can pound it out in under thirty minutes.”

  At his choice of words, she raised a seductive eyebrow that sent a flare down his core.

  He bit back a grin. “It is a great workout.”

  When she chewed her bottom lip, he decided he’d better steer the conversation to safer waters.

  “Swimming laps is great cardio, and I feel like my lung capacity has improved. Good for the joints.” He tilted his head to look at her foot under the table. “Maybe you should try it.”

  “I don’t like getting my hair wet.”

  “Look at you living up to stereotypes.”

  She pursed her lips. “Fine. I’ll consider it…for medicinal purposes. But we don’t have a pool, and I don’t go to the gym.”

  “Don’t go to the gym?” That surprised him. Was she seriously born with those legs?

  She pulled a face, as if she had read his mind. “I didn’t say I didn’t work out.”

  “Runner. No, dancer.”

  “I’m going to be flattered, but no. Yoga mostly. But sometimes I’m known to bike.”

  “Ha.”

  Her face was tilted down, but she glanced up at him, her smile sly and a little hesitant. Attraction sparked, and he couldn’t stop the returning grin.

  She had an intriguing face. He hoped she hadn’t noticed him staring. And drooling. Her jaw was so long it was almost masculine, but the way it tapered to a point at her chin and the height of her cheekbones made it work so well. The thick brown hair falling around her face further softened the angles. He envied her sharp nose. His was small and round, cute on newborns, but not commanding on a man.

  Tempest. It was a bold name. A hot lady’s name—she made it an attractive name. Ardy was a loser’s name. He wished again he hadn’t said it, but if he had told her the truth, they wouldn’t be here, eating at his kitchen table like old marrieds.

  The benevolent universe had literally dropped her at his door. If he learned anything with Red Rocco, it was to seize opportunity when it came. Don’t count on second chances.

  ****

  After dinner, they stayed at the table and talked for nearly two hours before Leo drove Tempest home. He’d taken his pickup. He didn’t need to flash his Aston Martin. She might ask questions. And what did he buy the truck for if not to haul old bikes? Within minutes, he pulled up to her curb. They were practically neighbors. Her place looked nice from the outside, a single level with twin square windows flanking a brown front door. She said goodbye at the car and hobbled up her front walk unassisted. Not even a goodbye hug. Two can play this game.

  Now he had her name, phone number, and address. Not like a creeper or anything. He felt a little like a creeper when he got home and pulled out his computer. He searched Tempest Swan.

  What people put out there on the public domain always blew his mind. He should talk to her about security. Another day, though. Maybe after he told her the truth—although that was probably going to be the end date of this relationship, or whatever it was that had just happened. He clicked through her social media accounts. She didn’t post often; he liked that. She’d had long hair last year. She was cute that way too. He pretended not to be disappointed she hadn’t uploaded any swimsuit photos. Didn’t every attractive woman have those? Now he really felt like a creeper. He had to remind himself that he thought it was super cool she wasn’t putting herself out there like that for people to ogle. But it was inconvenient when he felt like ogling.

  Blair looked like a fun friend—she posted plenty of swimsuit photos. Tempest had an older sister and two nephews and a niece. He halted. Her mother had died thirteen months ago from lung cancer. That’s horrible. Leo quit the screen, feeling dirty and wrong. Just because all the information was there didn’t mean he should rob her of her stories. He’d have to earn the telling.

  He typed in Leonard Allred. The Red Rocco website populated first. Good. The rest of page one listed articles about his company. He had no social media accounts. Wikipedia was short and sparse. No photograph. He clicked the images tab. Photos of his assistant, Dean Anders, filled the screen. He had to click through to page two before an image of himself popped up. Few people ever went to page two. Tagging Dean in the search engines as Leonard Allred had been a fairly simple task. He’d paid Dean for the use of the photographs. He would have paid a lot more for his anonymity and privacy. And it worked—strangers didn’t know who he was. Neither did Tempest. Her comment about Dean’s shiny hair and pretty face stung, but he’d dodged a bullet today.

  She was hunting the wrong man.

  ****

  Tempest rolled over in bed at the sound of her phone vibrating. How? She’d turned notifications off last night before falling asleep. She lifted the phone from the end table. Dad. Since Mom’s diagnosis, Tempest had made the settings so Dad’s calls always came through. A jolt of adrenaline had her sitting straight up. Why was he calling before eight a.m.? She was seeing him in just a few hours.

  “Dad?”

  “Good morning, honey,” Dad said. “I’m looking forward to this evening.”

  She couldn’t be sure over the phone connection, but he sounded weird, strained. Fear swelled. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

  “No. No. I’m sorry if I made you nervous.” He chuckled. “I suppose I don’t call too often, do I?”

  She sucked in a calming breath. She’d stayed up way too late last night supposedly trying to plan how to meet Leonard Allred, but really thinking about Arty. She didn’t have to get up for two more hours, but she wouldn’t be sleeping anymore now that her heart was cranked to sprinting speed.

  “It’s just I’m excited about a surprise I’m bringing to dinner.”

  “That’s why you called?” Her voice came out a little too harshly. She’d made a promise to herself, her mother, and God that she’d be patient with her old man. She’d sworn to have compassion for his grief, loneliness, and eccentricities. It was a work in progress.

  “I wanted to make sure you’ll be at dinner tonight.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Dress nicely.”

  “Why?”

  “Surprise.”

  “But—”

  “Until tonight.” He hung up.

  She hated surprises. Almost as much as she hated being woken up for no reason on Sunday morning. Her left ankle complained when she stood. Bruising darkened the outside, but the swelling was minimal. She’d ice it while eating breakfast. What had she been thinking yesterday? The bike accident had been the worst idea ever. Arty’s face flashed in her mind. That had been weird. And good. She couldn’t wait to see him again. Would he call before their masquerade date? Would he flake? Did she really trust him to pick out a costume? What if he went along the lines of Princess Leia in the gold bikini?

  One problem at a time.

  As she staggered to the bathroom, she called her sister. Jo was thirty-two, four years older. She lived in Plano with her husband, Benji, and their three children. She’d probably been awake for hours. Hopefully she hadn’t had a bad night with the baby. Harrison was five months and not sleeping as he should be. Tempest got to hear all about it.

  “You’re up early,” Jo said.

  Tempest closed the door so she wouldn’t wake up Blair down the hall. “So are you.”

  “Harrison was such a little angel last night. He slept eight hours straight, ate at five thirty, then went back to sleep. Still hasn’t woken up. Such a sweetie.” Her voice went from gooey to grim. “It’s Hunter who was up at six a.m. wanting waffles.”

  Tempest
rubbed the skin between her brows. “Dad called to make sure I’m coming to dinner. Have I ever missed? And then he wanted to put me in a bad mood by telling me he has a surprise.”

  “Yeah. He’s bringing a woman.”

  “Like a girlfriend?”

  “Yup. He met her last month, but I’m pretty sure they’ve spent every day together since.”

  “Why am I the last to know everything?” Tempest dropped her panties.

  “Do you call Dad ever?”

  She bristled. “Have you met her?” She sat on the toilet.

  “We went to lunch.” Jo’s voice muffled. “Hannah, wash your hands first. No, you can’t have that.”

  “Thanks for the invite,” Tempest said, tone sarcastic.

  “Are you peeing right now? It’s echoing so loud.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “It was last Wednesday. I knew you were at work. I didn’t think you’d want to come anyway. It’s not a big deal. You didn’t miss anything.”

  Jo only said that when Tempest had missed something.

  “Dad’s excited for you to meet her,” Jo said. “Act surprised.”

  She should tell Jo she got laid off. “I hate surprises.”

  “Hunter, help your sister.” Jo’s voice got louder. “She’s nice. You’ll like her.”

  That seemed unlikely, but she kept her mouth shut. Letting this bother her was immature. So what that she hadn’t met the woman yet—hadn’t been invited to lunch. Her dad starting to date was good news. Why was she being so sour about it? This woman would take the attention away from Tempest’s lack of work. “I have the salad for tonight.”

  “Oh, I meant to text you. Dad’s girlfriend—her name’s Silvia—said she really wants to help with the dinner, so I told her she could make the salad since I’d already gotten everything else for the meal.”

  Tempest had already picked up everything for the salad too.

  “That means you’re off the hook. I’ve got to go. See you tonight.”

  “See ya.” She set the phone by the sink. Still sitting on the toilet, she dropped her head in her hands. I will meet this woman with an open mind. I will be happy for my dad. I will not resent my sister.

  I love you, Mom. I wish you were here.

  ****

  When Tempest pulled up to Jo’s house in Plano, Dad’s Mercedes was already there. Here we go. Salad not in hand, she let herself in the front door. They were all in the kitchen. Jo, Benji, Dad, and Silvia. She was a little thing, but she didn’t make a small impression. Big blond hair, fake boobs, lip filler, lots of makeup. The woman made it all work, though.

  “Hello,” Tempest said.

  “There’s my baby.” Dad’s voice was too loud, his hug too tight. “Tempest, meet Silvia.”

  Next to the petite woman, Tempest felt like she stood on stilts. Silvia looked years younger than Dad. Maybe it was the plastics and makeup and the tight little jeans, but Tempest could see the attraction. Silvia had big friendly blue eyes and a welcoming smile.

  “It’s so nice to meet you.” Silvia held out a small hand.

  “Thanks. You too. I love your shoes.”

  Silvia glanced down at the patent leather pumps, then beamed at her.

  Tempest turned to her dad. “So what’s the surprise?”

  Dad’s face fell, but Silvia chuckled. “He told me you had a dry sense of humor.”

  “Don’t believe everything he tells you,” Tempest said.

  Jo sashayed around the island, swinging her wide hips away from the sharp corner. “You look nice, T.”

  “Thanks. Smells good in here.” Tempest inhaled melting cheese and garlic. Jo’s food was not light, but it tasted good. Tempest was always in charge of the salad. But now Silvia was here, and Tempest didn’t know if anything healthy would be on the table. Did her family know that she considered this her cheat meal for the week?

  Benji handed Tempest a glass of sparkling water with a lemon slice, her usual.

  “Thank you.” She took a sip, startling as vodka heated her tongue.

  Benji winked. “Thought you might need that today.”

  She’d always liked him. He was mellow and slow to temper. He had a thick head of curly brown hair and a happy round face. Jo had gotten lucky. Ten years, three kids, and forty pounds heavier, and he still treated Jo like a queen.

  “Tempest,” Silvia said, “tell me all about yourself.”

  Tempest took a big gulp of her drink. Should she lead with the job loss or the new bet she’d made with Blair? Or Beardy Guy? Crying crackled through the baby monitor, drawing everyone’s attention away from her muteness. Thank you, baby Harrison.

  Silvia turned to Jo, face aglow. “Oh, let me get him.” She held her hands to her chest. “Please.”

  How could anyone deny that earnest face anything? Jo didn’t. “That would be so nice, thank you.”

  Dad put a hand on the small of Silvia’s back. “This way, darling. I’ll show you.”

  Tempest mouthed the word darling as she, Jo, and Benji looked at each other in silence.

  They waited long enough for Dad and Silvia to have gotten out of overhearing range before Jo said, “What do you think?”

  Benji held his hand out in front of his chest like he was holding melons.

  Jo hit him with a dish towel. “Don’t make fun. You know I’m getting some as soon as the baby finishes sucking me dry.”

  Benji leaned in and kissed her mouth. “You’re beautiful no matter what.”

  Jo blushed and rolled her eyes.

  She was a softened, shorter version of Tempest, as if all the angles and colors had been buffed and muted. Jo’s eyes were grayer, her hair a light brown. But where Tempest was even-keeled, Jo was the storm, a vacillating wave of highs and lows.

  Tempest was about to speak when Silvia’s voice came through the monitor again. “Tempest is beautiful.”

  Jo pursed her lips.

  Dad’s voice was garbled. “She looks like her momma.”

  Pain flared in Tempest’s chest. Momma.

  “Your daughters are wonderful, Christopher. I like them already.”

  “And I can tell they like you too.”

  Silvia’s voice turned high-pitched. “Hello, handsome. Aren’t you just the sweetest little man?”

  “She’d better be talking to the baby,” Jo said.

  “Stop snooping,” Benji said. “Turn that off.”

  Jo curled her lower lip but flicked off the baby monitor. “Help me take this food out.”

  Tempest lifted the rolls while Benji hefted the macaroni and cheese from the oven.

  “Hunter and Hannah,” Jo yelled. “Time for dinner. Get in here and wash up.”

  ****

  The kids were a good distraction. Hunter loved to talk in detail about his favorite movies, and Hannah could be counted on to discuss school. They were nearly to dessert before the adults had to talk about themselves.

  “Do you have family in the area?” Tempest asked Silvia.

  “I have two children. I lost them to California for a while, but they both moved back recently.” Silvia’s blue eyes sparkled with delight.

  Tempest missed her mom. She had taken for granted that Mom always lived close by. Now she was gone.

  “I’ve been divorced twice.” Silvia looked sheepish but brightened when Dad reached over and touched her leg under the table.

  Whoa. So Dad was serious about this woman. Tempest didn’t know what to think. Her insides swirled with conflicting emotions.

  “Harvey is the father of my two children,” Silvia said. “He left me fifteen years ago for another man.”

  “Oh!” Jo blurted the word out.

  Dad gave her a stern look.

  Jo’s face turned pink.

  Silvia smiled. “It wasn’t easy, but it’s for the best now. He lives with his new partner in San Francisco. It’s the second marriage that I regret. I was only married to Robert eight months. It was a pity rebound, and I should have know
n better.”

  Silence hit as Tempest failed to think of a follow-up comment to that remark. Even Jo stayed quiet.

  “Maybe third time’s a charm,” Dad said.

  Jo’s jaw dropped, but Dad didn’t seem to notice. He only had eyes for Silvia, and she was looking back at him with just as much love.

  Chapter Four

  The Game

  “Here’s your costume.” Dean set a wide box on the side of Leo’s desk.

  Leo lifted his head, his mind still on the email he was composing.

  “The Count of Monte Cristo getup for Saturday,” Dean said.

  Leo’s thoughts shifted gears with reluctance. The Thanes’ party. Saturday. Costumes. Tempest. “Oh no. That won’t work anymore.”

  “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Leo blinked at his assistant.

  “Can I use it?” Dean flashed his charming smile.

  Tempest’s voice saying the words shiny hair and pretty face cut through Leo’s good mood like a razor blade. “You’re going to the Thanes’ party?” Leo didn’t mean to sound so annoyed.

  Dean’s face fell. “I was invited, but…”

  Aw, crap. Leo stood up, thoughts a jumble. He would have to figure out how to keep Tempest away from Dean, the man she thought she hated. It was a big party; it shouldn’t be a problem. He handed Dean the box. “Take it. And I don’t want to hear a word about you pretending the cloak will be too short for you.”

  “Pretending?”

  “Help me come up with a costume that will work for a couple.”

  Dean raised thick eyebrows.

  “Yes. I’m bringing a date. You don’t have to look so shocked.”

  Dean grinned.

  “Any ideas?”

  “Leia and Han.”

  “You’re fired.”

  Dean chuckled. “Kidding. Give me a minute. I’ll come back with a list.” He walked out of Leo’s office, closing the glass doors behind him. Leo turned to his screen, but he couldn’t see the words over the image of a pretty brunette filling his thoughts. She would look very good in Leia’s gold bikini.

  ****

  “Ketchup and mustard?” Leo looked up from the list to spear Dean with a sharp gaze he hoped came off as incredulous.