Scarlet Lady (3 page)

“You wouldn’t want to cool off your streak of luck, would you?”

Cool off was exactly what she needed to do. How could she have miscalculated so badly? She’d been so intent on getting on board and attracting Montana’s attention that she never considered she might need to leave quickly. Her plan to win big and disappear into the night was not to be. A few hours of bravado was about all she could handle. Now she was trapped by the very man she wanted to leave intrigued while she got ready for her next attack.

“Guess you’ll be my guest for a while longer,
whether you want to be or not. If you’ve had enough blackjack, we could share a late supper.”

“No, I’m not hungry. I mean I told you … I came here to gamble.”

“That’s right, you said you wanted to win a lot of money. Maybe you’d like to change the game to one with higher stakes. What about a few private hands of poker?”

That was exactly what she’d had in mind. But now Katie didn’t like the look in Montana’s eyes. She’d seen it before. The last time she’d been invited to play poker, she’d been fifteen and her opponent had been a sixteen-year-old with more polish than a queen’s silver. If it hadn’t been for her younger brother, Carson, she might have lost more than her clothes. When Carson discovered them in the gazebo by the river, he’d defended his sister’s honor with his fists. Carson lost the fight and Katie lost her poker-playing admirer.

That had been Katie’s first, but it hadn’t been her last high-stakes game. Back then, she’d learned not to let herself be lulled into agreement by pretty words and a challenge, and later, when she’d learned she had an uncanny ability to count the cards, she’d taught Carson to play poker and had beaten him routinely.

Tonight had been meant as a trial run, a warm-up for the big event. But it looked as if fate had taken a hand. She couldn’t leave the boat, and Montana was inviting her to up the stakes. So her timetable had changed. She’d move to the next stage of her assault, make her strike tonight … and disappear.

She had no choice. Fate had dealt the cards.

Her answer had to be, “Yes.”

The Mississippi River gambler neither nodded nor smiled. Instead he used a more disarming means of sealing their agreement.

He kissed her.

TWO

Montana’s lips merely brushed hers to begin with, hesitantly, as if acquainting himself with something new, something special that he wanted to savor.

His hands left her face, where they’d moved without her even knowing, and clasped hers, pulling them up to drape around his neck. Then he settled in, drawing her lower lip between his in a nibble before slipping his tongue inside her mouth.

Katie hadn’t expected this. Neither did she expect the rush of heat that swept over her or the overwhelming need she felt to get closer to him. This couldn’t be. Montana was suppossed to be her enemy. Knowing Carson wasn’t a gambler, Montana had taken his money and his IOUs night after night, until at last her brother had put up his share of their home, Carithers’ Chance, as collateral.

Montana shouldn’t be kissing her. She shouldn’t be
letting him. She was about to lose more than money to his charm.

But the pressure of his mouth intensified, assaulting her like the river crashing against the black dirt banks, washing away her resistance. She was being pulled out way beyond her depth. Katie closed her eyes in the mistaken belief that if she couldn’t see him, she wouldn’t respond. She was wrong. Not seeing only made the feelings stronger, more intense. Her body formed its own opinion on the matter, falling forward so that it contoured to his as though they’d been cut from the same mold.

There was something incredibly solid about Montana, something that said he was strong, that he’d protect her. And just for a second her lips welcomed that promise. For so long, she’d had to be the strong one. Now her strength was gone, forcing his arms to support her.

Suddenly a gust of moisture-laden air slammed into her, ripping Montana’s jacket from her shoulders. The boat lurched, separating them and flinging her against the rail.

Katie lost a shoe as she slipped to the wet deck and Montana’s jacket went over the side. Just as she was about to follow it under the lacy wrought-iron railing, Montana grabbed her shoulders. He slid one hand beneath her back and the other under her knees, lifting her, as the rain began in earnest.

“Hold on there, my lady in red. I’d consider you going overboard as welshing on a bet.”

Katie struggled. But when a flash of lightening revealed
the turbulent water below, she swallowed her protest and ducked her head under Montana’s chin. She might have been a championship swimmer in college, but her medals had been won in a pool, not the angry waters of the Mississippi.

Without quite knowing how it happened, Katie found herself in Montana’s living quarters—still in his arms. After a long moment he let go of her knees, allowing her body to caress his inch by inch until her feet touched the floor.

“I’ve lost a shoe,” she murmured breathlessly.

“Silly shoes.” Montana held her close with the fingers of one large hand while he picked a wet feather from her shoulder with his other. “Silly dress,” he said, trailing the feather down her neck and letting it fall. “Let’s lose that, too.”

The feeling of a strap being pushed from her shoulder jerked her back to the present. She let out a cry of alarm and pushed him away, feeling as though she’d just walked out of the darkness and into a very bright light.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“I’m not thinking. At this point thinking takes a definite backseat to wanting.” He reached out and pulled her into his arms.

“Stop that!” She twisted her face away, moving out of the heat zone that seemed to surround Mr. Rhett Butler Montana. “Now what are you doing?”

“Kissing you again,” he answered, “for starters.”

“Put your hands on me once more, and I’ll scream so loud that the boat will turn over from the press of people coming to my rescue.”

Taking a step backward, she held out her hands, palms up, creating an invisible barrier between them. “I didn’t come here for this. This definitely wasn’t part of my plan.”

He leaned casually against the dresser while he caught his breath, studying her. “Plan? There was no way in hell anybody could have planned this,” he said.
Not even me. Certainly not me
.

Slowly, he forced himself to regain control. He’d frightened her with the unexpected flare of desire. He’d frightened himself as well. He’d damned near lost his head and all control.

No. He’d never been that overwhelmed by a woman. He’d never wanted to be, nor had he ever been so caught up in the heat of the moment that he’d overstepped his own boundaries. Not since he was eighteen. Not since Laura. Not since he’d lost the courage to love.

At seventeen, Laura’d had no more experience with love and desire than he had. It was this same kind of passion that had cost him the woman he loved, his family, and his future. But Laura had lost more. Laura had lost her sanity and finally her life.

Now, as he stepped back and took an honest look at the mystery woman in red who’d refused to give a name beyond Katie, he realized that she was no more experienced as a femme fatale than she was as a gambler.

But, dammit, she’d gotten to him, and his emotions were still churning so violently that he was having trouble handling the situation.

“I’m sorry,” he said, more gruffly than he intended.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. This was too fast. Let’s start again.”

His change to a slow, steady voice finally got through to her, and she began to look calmer, but she didn’t speak. He couldn’t tell whether it was because she had no answer or because she had lost her voice.

To give them both a chance to regroup and start again, he walked over to the table beside his bed and picked up the phone. “Bring up a pot of coffee,” he said, looking over at her. “Unless you’d rather have something stronger?”

She shook her head, pulled her gaze from the large round bed, which was covered by a red spread, and glanced down at her bare feet. “No, coffee will be fine.”

“And some sandwiches.” He hung up the phone.

Katie felt something hit the boat with a muffled thud. She shivered, sliding her hands up and down her hips. “About your jacket. I seem to have lost it, along with my shoes.”

“No great loss. I have a number of them, all alike. It’s part of my uniform.”

“Uniform?”

“Everybody expects me to look like”—he could have said “my namesake,” but changed it to—“Bret Maverick or Doc Holliday. It’s good for business, so I try not to disappoint them.”

There was a long-drawn-out silence before the woman who’d almost gone into the river finally stopped her anxious movements and looked him full in the face.

“I guess we all wear uniforms of one kind or another, Mr. Montana. And I doubt you ever disappoint
anyone you set out to please. I just don’t happen to be interested in anything other than a gambling relationship.”

“Too bad. I thought both relationships showed promise.”

“No, I don’t think so.” She tucked a damp strand of hair back into the intricate coil at the base of her neck. “Gambling is the only thing I’m interested in. That’s where I’m most experienced.

“And the kiss?”

He was toying with her, and she couldn’t let it continue. Assuming her best business manner, she said, “I hope you understand that I don’t normally fall into a stranger’s arms. It was”—she attempted to justify herself—“just the storm and the excitement over winning so much of your money.”

He didn’t miss her emphasis on the word
your
. “As opposed to someone else’s money? That sounds promising.”

He cut off her protest. “Okay, forget personal for a moment. We’ll have our coffee and maybe play a couple of hands of high-stake poker. It’s always the sporting thing to do, give a man a chance to get even.”

She glanced at the bed again. “No, I really ought to leave.”

“We’ve already established that you can’t leave until we get back to the dock. In the meantime, let’s get you some dry clothes.”

“That won’t be necessary. The only thing wet about me is my feet. Just let me borrow a pair of your socks and a towel.”

The picture of her wearing nothing but a towel and his socks made Montana swallow his words for a moment. He was saved by a timely knock on his door.

While the steward set up the coffee and cups, Montana pulled a pair of socks from his dresser and handed them to his mysterious lady in red who, taking them, quickly disappeared into the bathroom. He glanced uneasily at his watch. They’d be docking far too soon.

Inside the bathroom, Katie placed her palms flat on the mahogany vanity and dropped her head. She’d planned her strategy carefully. Her winnings were significant, more than she’d expected. Still, she knew she didn’t have enough. And though she’d been warned, she hadn’t planned on facing an opponent like Montana. It was his charm and her attraction to him that was the problem.

The only real competition she’d ever faced had been with her college study partner in accounting. He was the one who’d said that with her memory and special talent with numbers, she’d be a whiz at cards. He’d taught her to play poker. Once she learned to count the cards, winning had been easy. By the time she graduated, he’d moved on and she’d put her talent with numbers to work earning a living as an accountant, always expecting to help her father in the business.

Nothing had worked out as she’d planned. She’d gone to work at the hospital and Carson had gone into the business. She’d given up playing poker and Carson became a college student who gambled and partied. A gambler who lost.

The thing that hurt was that she’d been the one who
taught him how to play. How could she know that it would ruin their lives?

She heard Montana call out to her. How long had she been in here? She looked up and caught sight of herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was a stranger. It wasn’t just that she wore a dress belonging to her best friend and secretary, Cat Boulineau. It was the glamorous upswept style and the feathers in her hair now glistening with mist from the storm. The woman in the mirror wasn’t her. She was too sophisticated; the dress far too revealing. There was a wicked glint in her eyes and her skin glowed.

It couldn’t be the kiss, though she still tingled. Sensory contact, that’s all it was. It gave Montana a roguish, go-to-hell look and made her body feel like it wanted to go there with him.

“Are you all right?” he asked again.

“Yes, fine.” She glanced around, hoping for another door. There was only an oversized porthole over the toilet. She peered out into the storm and wished she’d never come on board. “I’m coming.” Quickly she peeled off her wet panty hose, then glanced around for a place to deposit them. She’d lost her purse somewhere. There was no wastebasket. The only drawer was filled with soap … and condoms.

He was still outside the door. “As captain of the
Scarlet Lady
, I’ve never had to break down my bathroom door to rescue a winner before.”

Frantically, she pushed the hose to the back of the drawer and closed it, then sat down on the edge of the tub, dried her legs, and donned the black socks. They
came up to her knees. “You ought to see me now, Cat,” she said, thinking how horrified her secretary would be to see the ruin of her creation.