Scarlet Lady (4 page)

A second knock sent her scurrying out the door, straight into an intimate scene that stopped her in her tracks. A small round table had been covered with a white cloth. On it sat a pot of coffee, a platter of sandwiches, and the red purse she’d hung across her shoulders. Beside the purse was a stack of beautiful green bills and an unopened deck of cards.

“My purse.”

“It got caught on the rail.”

“And my money,” she said in a whisper of awe. “In cash?”

Montana took an unlit cigar from his mouth and allowed that half-mocking smile to return to his lips.

“Most people prefer it, though I suggest you exchange it for a check. It’ll be safer that way.”

Katie could hardly contain her excitement. She wanted to count the money, but she couldn’t let him know how important it was.

“Sit down,” he said, pulling out one of the wrought-iron bistro chairs from the table.

She looked around hesitantly for a moment, then followed his directions. Though the storm seemed to be lessening, diminishing the danger of a crash, she knew she was caught up in a more intense situation inside Montana’s suite. They were headed for a collision. Having coffee would fill the time and she’d have the table between them.

“I’ll take mine with cream and artificial sweetener,” she said.

Cream and artificial sweetener? A contradiction. Much like the lady he was looking at, he was deciding. Montana poured the coffee, adding the requested ingredients, and handed her a cup.

As she sipped the hot beverage she tried not to look at the bed. It seemed to loom larger and larger every time she did. She also avoided looking at the stack of money. Instead, she focused on the unopened deck of cards. Did he actually plan to continue their gambling?

Luck had been in her corner so far, but now she needed a way out, a way to get off the boat and plan her next move. Another casino, perhaps. In the casino, the presence of the other players somehow would act to defuse the powerful effect he had on her. Here, Katie wasn’t certain she could concentrate. She needed money, but it didn’t have to be Montana’s money, she reasoned. He was too dangerous to her peace of mind. No, she decided firmly. It was Montana who’d taken Carson’s money. It was Montana who’d give it back. Getting even, wasn’t that what he’d called it?

She looked up at the man across the table from her. He seemed amused, almost smug, as if he knew all her secrets. But he couldn’t know who she really was or why she was here. She’d never been to the casino. She’d never even been down the river to Silver City, Louisiana, before. And she’d certainly never gone out dressed in a way that made her very appearance an open invitation to intimacy.
She’d tell him who she was—eventually. But for now she’d remain anonymous
.

“You know I let you win,” he said. “I think you owe me a rematch for my money.”

She frowned. “Let me win? I don’t think so, Mr. Montana.”

“But you’re not sure, are you? I think you’re going to have to prove it. Play me one last hand as you suggested before, final bet, double or nothing.”

Katie moistened her lips. Here it was—what she wanted—as Carson would say, the whole enchilada. Was Montana telling the truth? Had he let her win? No, she didn’t believe that. She’d beaten him, fair and square.

“Let me make sure I understand. If I win, you’ll double whatever is in the pot?”

He nodded. “And if I win?”

She hadn’t thought about that possibility. “That isn’t going to happen.” She closed her eyes and said a desperate prayer. If she lost, she’d lose all the money she’d won, and then there’d be no way she could keep playing.

Would it matter? If she didn’t find the money to settle Carson’s IOUs, Rhett Butler Montana would own half of Carithers’ Chance. If she couldn’t make up for her loss, he’d end up winning the other half. She had no choice; she’d tried every way she could find to raise the money—without success. Carithers’ Chance was too big a gamble for anybody except Montana to risk.

“You won’t win,” she said, and reached for her purse. “But this time we play with my cards and I deal.”

“Don’t you know you aren’t allowed to bring your own cards into a casino?”

“What’s the matter? Are you scared?”

“Scared? No. But why should I take that kind of chance?”

“Because, Mr. Montana, those are my terms.”

He conceded with a laugh. “Why not? What’s the game?”

She peeled the cellophane from her deck and shuffled the cards while she was considering the odds. “One hand, right?”

“One hand.” If he agreed to more, they’d be back at the dock by then, and he wanted this settled while she was still on his turf.

“Stud poker.”

“Fine.” His penetrating gaze held hers and she didn’t think he’d even blinked. Intimidation, she decided. He figured he could spook her into making a mistake. Well, he was wrong. She could be just as cool.

“Would you like to cut the cards?” she asked.

He shook his head, stood, and moved toward the bed. Another intimidating ploy, she thought. Just like his uniform. Obviously, the gambler played his part to the hilt. All he needed was a brass chandelier and gold pull cords to open the curtains behind. Everything about the
Scarlet Lady
was larger than life, including the oversized portholes.

Katie forced her expression to remain unemotional as Montana reached into a drawer in the bedside table and casually pulled out several packets of bills.

As he took his seat at the table, Katie leaned forward, for the first time intentionally using her revealing neckline to distract her opponent.

He studied the view she presented, leaned back, and smiled. “Deal.”

“About the bet. One hand, right?”

“One hand.”

She dealt him his first card, facedown. Then one to herself. The bets started small. The next card was faceup. A queen of spades to Montana, a king of hearts to herself. Montana made no attempt to examine his hole card; instead, he peeled off ten thousand dollars, pushed it forward, and waited.

“Is that all?” Katie asked airily, saying a silent prayer that he was the one who’d have to double the bet. “I like a man who takes a risk.”

“I like a woman who matches it.”

Katie silently fretted and considered her king of hearts. She would rather not have had to risk so much of her purse, but she couldn’t stop now. She covered his bet and added more. His third card—faceup—was a four of diamonds; hers a jack of hearts.

“Possible royal flush for the dealer,” she observed calmly. “Will you bet?”

“You know it, mystery lady.” Another stack of bills was added to the pile.

She matched it and dealt each of them another card. Montana drew a second four—of hearts this time. “One pair showing.” Her card was the ace of hearts. Without ever touching the cards, Montana shoved more money into the pot. With a lump in her throat, Katie said, “Possible royal flush still working.”

“Maybe.” Montana smiled. “Then again, maybe not.
I already have a pair. Perhaps you’d prefer to give up and save some of your winnings for another day?”

Silently Katie matched his stack of bills. When the next card she dealt him turned out to be the queen of diamonds, she blanched. “Fours and queens, possible full house,” she managed to say, and turned over her last card. The ten of hearts.

Could it be? She had the ten, jack, king, and ace of hearts showing. No matter how cool she tried to be, she had to look at her last card. She just couldn’t give it away … or maybe she could. What if she pretended to be flustered, gave the appearance of having failed to complete the royal flush? Could she pull it off?

She had to. Carefully, she lifted the corner of the card. A bit, then more, holding her breath as she looked. It couldn’t be. But it was. The queen of hearts was her hidden card.

Deliberately, she moistened her lips and swallowed hard. Then she jutted her chin forward and said, “Royal flush still working. Are you ready to throw in your cards, Mr. Montana?”

“Not in this lifetime, darling. What about you?”

“How big a risk taker are you?” she asked.

“The sky’s the limit, except I don’t own it. Instead, I think I’ll just raise you.”

She took a deep breath. He was so sure of himself that he wasn’t even going to look at his other card. She’d come here with two hundred-dollar bills. The pot was somewhere close to twenty thousand dollars now and they both knew she couldn’t cover his last bet. She was going to lose. Desperately, she tried to come up
with an answer. She had to call his bluff. For once in her life she had to take the risk. “You see that I’m a little short. What about a new wager?”

“Only if I choose the stakes.”

“I’m listening. What do you have in mind?”

He studied her for a long moment. “Like I said, if I win, I get you for the night.”

She gaped at him.

“But … but that’s not …”

“You wanted to play double or nothing. If you win, you get the pot. Come on, this is what you came for, isn’t it? You said you wanted to win a lot of money—my money.”

He was right. She wanted—no, needed—a lot of money. But even double the pot wouldn’t really be enough. She had to have more. “All right. But let’s talk about the stakes.”

He laughed lightly. “I’m listening.”

She thought about what she wanted. She couldn’t bring herself to say Carson’s IOUs. She could take care of that later, with her winnings. What she wanted to do was teach Mr. Go-to-hell, Sure-of-Himself Montana a lesson in loss. Then it came to her.

“A night with me is worth more than this pot, Mr. Montana.”

He grinned. “All right. Put a price on your services.”

She curled her lips into a smile, leaned forward, and whispered, “If I win, I get the
Scarlet Lady—and
double the pot.”

He stood up and walked toward the porthole, glancing
out. He could see the lights of the city coming into view. He was almost out of time.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, worried now that he’d back out. “A successful gambler like you is afraid I’ll win?” She allowed her hands to flutter nervously. “What would people say? I tell you what, you just give up. I’ll take the original bet and you get to keep your boat.”

So she wanted to back down, he mused. He wasn’t certain he trusted her, but, hell, he was the gambler. He’d won
Scarlet
once, he wasn’t going to lose her now. “How do I know I can trust you, my lady in red?”

“Because I say so.”

“A little demonstration of good faith is in order.”

“Oh? And what would you consider a demonstration?”

He walked back toward her and held out his hand. “A kiss freely given, totally committed.”

“But that’s crazy.”

“I don’t think so. I’m a gambler and I’m gambling that you don’t have the queen in the hole. If you do, just consider the kiss as a consolation prize.”

She allowed him to draw her to her feet, trying desperately to figure a way out of the impossible situation she’d gotten herself into. Whatever had made her think she could do this? She was an accountant, not a gambler. Her stock-in-trade was logic, not odds. Her heart was pounding so, she could hardly speak. If he kissed her she’d … What was she thinking? She was about to win his money and his boat.

To do that she had to let him kiss her.

His mouth descended. Her heart was thudding, she was caught in his arms like a butterfly in a spiderweb. Neither one of them could escape.

And then his lips met hers, expertly, masterfully. This time she didn’t close her eyes. She put her arms behind her, bracing herself against the table, feeling the crinkle of the bills beneath her fingertips.

Money.

With a prayer for divine guidance, she parted her lips and allowed his tongue to enter her mouth, using every trick she’d ever read about in a book or seen in a movie to hold his attention. She was on his boat, in his territory. She wasn’t taking any chances that he’d find a way to back out of their bet. Another kiss and she’d lose more than that bet. Behind her she found her purse, opened it, and slid all the money inside. Forget the boat for now. She’d settle for the cash. She’d think about the rest of the bet tomorrow.

Finally, face flushed and, in spite of her attempt not to respond, eyelids heavy with desire, she pushed Montana away. She had to escape while he was still caught up in the moment. And before she herself was lost in the power of his attraction. “What will you do if I win?” she asked breathlessly.

“You won’t,” he said, his eyes boring into hers, his fingertips digging into her arms. “One way or another, I always win.”

“You’re right,” she said, suddenly afraid of the potential for big-time trouble. “I was bluffing. You win. You win me. But first I have to—I mean I should—I mean, please excuse me.” She pulled herself out of his
reach and stumbled toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” she promised.

And I’ll be ready for whatever you have planned next, he thought in anticipation. She’d been a reasonably good poker player, but no beginner’s luck was going to beat two pairs. And she was terrible at bluffing. Still, he hadn’t expected her to concede so easily. But she had. Why didn’t he feel good about it? Had he been so swept away with his lady in red that he’d missed something?

The rocking of the boat had gradually lessened. They were coming to the dock. The riverboat whistle blared out, announcing that they were about to tie up. Montana heard water begin to run. A bath? That surprised him. He moved from the card table to the bed, drawing back the spread. Next he adjusted the lights, leaving just enough to see without being obvious.

The sound of water continued while Montana ordered a bottle of champagne on ice. Still the water ran. His lady in red was taking a very long time to make herself ready to pay up on her bet.

Finally he felt a flicker of concern. Everything was too quiet. Something wasn’t right. He knocked on the bathroom door, lightly, then more firmly. “Hello?”

No answer. Except now water was seeping out from under the door.

Seconds later the door was hanging from its hinges and Montana was standing inside a flooded empty bathroom studying the porthole glass swinging in time with the movement of the boat.