The Winning Hand (13 page)

“This isn’t about me. It’s long past time you started thinking not just for yourself, but thinking
of
yourself.”

“I am. And it is about me.” Odd, she thought, how saying that, realizing that, felt so calming. “It’s about taking a stand, not being pushed around, pressured or maneuvered. I might not be a high roller, Mac, but I’m ready to play my hand.”

She turned, moving quickly before she could change her mind, and picked up the bedside phone. “Do you call the press, or do I?”

He studied her another moment, waiting for her to fold. But her eyes stayed level, her jaw remained set. Saying nothing, he walked to her, took the phone out of her hand, then punched in an extension.

“This is Blade. I need you to set up a press conference. We’ll use the Nevada Suite. One hour.”

“I pushed her into this.” Behind the service entrance of the Nevada Suite, Mac shoved his hands into his pockets and watched as Caine briefed Darcy on the press conference.

“You gave her breathing room,” Serena corrected. “If you hadn’t run interference, she’d have been dropped straight into the media days ago. Without time to settle and prepare.” She gave her son a quick, supportive pat on the arm. “And without one of the top lawyers in the country beside her.”

“She’s not ready for this.”

“I think you underestimate her.”

“You didn’t see her an hour ago.”

“No.” And though she wondered what had passed between Darcy and her son, she resisted prying. “But I’m seeing her now. And I say she’s ready.”

Serena linked an arm through her son’s and studied the woman listening attentively to Caine. Darcy had topped the yellow sundress with a short white jacket. It was a smart look, Serena decided. Simple and sunny.

The girl was a little pale, she mused, but she was holding her own.

“She’s going to surprise herself,” Serena murmured. And you, she added silently. “Caine’s going to be right there with her—and all of us are here, backing her up.”

Justin slipped through the heavy door, nodded to his son, laid a hand lightly on his wife’s shoulder. “We’re set. The natives are a bit restless. Do you want me to make the announcement?”

“I’ll do it.” He watched the way his mother’s hand lifted to lie over his father’s, the way their bodies brushed. The unit they made. It was something so natural to both of them, he realized he wouldn’t have noticed, or would have taken it for granted. Until Darcy.

“I haven’t appreciated you enough.” He covered their joined hands with his. “Not nearly enough.”

Justin frowned thoughtfully as Mac walked to Darcy. “Now, what was that about?”

“I’m not sure.” Serena smiled, a bit mistily. “But I like it. Let’s go keep The MacGregor distracted so Darcy can get through this smoothly.”

Darcy was terrified. Everything Caine had told her was already jumbled into mush in her head. Pride kept her rooted to the spot even when her imagination conjured a picture of herself running like a rabbit.

Her heart drummed hard staccato beats in her head as Mac came toward her.

“Ready?”

Time to stop running, she told herself. “Yes.”

“I’m going to go in, give them a brief rundown, then you’ll come in and field some questions. That’s all there is to it.”

He might as well have told her she was to perform a tap dance while juggling swords. But she nodded. “Your uncle explained how it works.”

“The girl’s not a moron,” Daniel barked. “She knows how to speak for herself. Don’t you, lass?”

The bright blue eyes demanded confidence. “We’re about to find out.” She squared her shoulders and walked to the side door to peek out. “So many.” Her stomach did a painful lurch as she scanned the dozens of faces in the ballroom. “Well.” She stepped back. “One or a hundred, it’s the same thing.”

“Don’t answer anything you’re not comfortable with,” Mac said briefly, then stepped out.

The noise level rose with rustling movements and speculative murmurs as he climbed the short stairs to a long platform.

Confidence, Darcy reflected, watching the way he moved, the easy way he stood behind the dais and spoke into the microphone. His voice was clear, his smile easy. When laughter broke out among the gathered reporters, she blinked.

She hadn’t heard the words, just the tone. She understood he was setting a casual and friendly one.

It was so easy for him, she thought. Facing strangers, thinking on his feet, being in control. The sea of faces didn’t have his nerves jangling, the shouted questions didn’t shake his poise in the least.

“Okay?” Caine put a hand to the small of her back.

She drew in a breath, held it, let it out. “Okay.”

Attention shifted in a wave when she stepped out. Cameras whirled as photographers jockeyed for a better angle. Television crews zoomed in. A barrage of questions was hurled at her the minute she stepped up to the mike. She jolted a little when Mac reached down to adjust it for her.

“I—” Her voice boomed back at her, making her want to giggle nervously. “I’m Darcy Wallace. I, ah …” She cleared her throat and struggled to dredge something coherent out of the jumble of thoughts in her mind. “I hit the jackpot.”

There was laughter, some appreciative applause. And the questions shot out too fast to separate one from the other.

“Where are you from?”

“How do you feel?”

“What are you doing in Vegas?”

“What happened when …”

Why? How? Where?

“I’m sorry.” Her voice frayed around the edges, but when Mac moved closer, she shook her head fiercely. She would do this, she promised herself. And she would do it without making a fool of herself. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’ve never talked to reporters before, so I don’t really know how. Maybe it would be better if I just told you what happened.”

It was easier that way, like telling a story. As she spoke, her voice steadied, and the fingers that had gripped the edges of the dais like a lifeline relaxed.

“What was the first thing you did when you realized you’d won?”

“After I fainted?” There was such quick laughter at her answer that her lips curved up in a smile. “Mr. Blade gave me a room—a suite. They have beautiful rooms here, like something out of a book. There’s a fireplace, and a piano and gorgeous flowers. I don’t think it all even started to sink in until the next day. Then the first thing I did was buy a new dress.”

“Lass has a way with her,” Daniel announced.

“She’s caught them.” Serena beamed approval. “She has no idea how charming she is.”

“Our boy’s taken with her.” Daniel wiggled his eyebrows when his daughter sent him an arched look. “See how he hovers over her, like he’s ready to scoop her up and cart her off if anyone gets too close. He’s smitten.”

She wasn’t quite ready to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. “They’ve only known each other a few days.”

Daniel merely snorted, then leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “And how long did it take you to catch this one’s eye?” He jerked a shoulder toward Justin.

“Slightly less time than it took me to realize you’d maneuvered us together in the first place.”

“Married thirty years now, aren’t you?” Unrepentant, Daniel grinned. “No, don’t thank me,” he continued, patting her cheek. “A man’s got to look after his family, after all. They’ll make pretty babies together, don’t you think, Rena?”

She only sighed. “At least try to be subtle about it.”

“Subtle’s my middle name,” Daniel said with a wink.

“Good job.” Caine gave Darcy a congratulatory embrace the minute the door closed behind them.

“It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” Relief flooded through her. “And now it’s over.”

“It’s just beginning,” Caine corrected, sorry to put that doe-on-alert look back in her eyes. “Mac will keep them busy for now,” he said, nodding as his nephew went out to bat cleanup for the press.

“But I told them everything.”

“They’re always going to want more. And you can expect dozens of calls requesting personal interviews, photos. Offers for your life story.”

“My life story.” That, at least, made her laugh. “I barely had a life before a few days ago.”

“The contrast is only going to add fuel. The tabloids are going to play with this, so be prepared for speculation that you were directed to Vegas by psychic aliens.”

When she laughed, he guided her at a quick pace toward the service elevator. He didn’t want to frighten her, or dull that bloom of success, but knew she needed to be prepared.

“The calls to offer you tremendous investment opportunities are going to start, too. Financial advisors, legitimate and not, are going to camp on your doorstep. The stepsister of the cousin of the kid who sat behind you in first grade is going to try to hit you up for a loan.”

“That would be Patty Anderson,” Darcy improvised with a weak smile. “I never liked her anyway.”

“Good girl. Do yourself a favor. Don’t answer the phone for a couple of days. Better yet, we can arrange for Mac to have the desk take your calls until things cool off a bit.”

“That’s like running again, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s protecting yourself, and it’s staying in control. If you want to do interviews, you can set them up. When you’ve figured out what it is you want to do, you contact a financial advisor. Whatever you do, you do at your pace.”

“I’m in charge,” Darcy said when they stopped at the door of her suite.

“Exactly. If you have any questions or concerns, you can call me. I’ll be around through tomorrow. After that, you can reach me in Boston.”

“I don’t know how to begin to thank you.”

“Enjoy yourself.” He gave the hand she offered a squeeze. “And don’t forget how much fun it was to buy a new dress.”

“Keep it simple,” she murmured, understanding.

“Atta girl.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

Alone, Darcy stepped into the suite. Keeping it simple wasn’t as easy as it sounded. She was a rich woman with her fifteen minutes of fame in its initial seconds. The message light on her phone was blinking, and the phone itself began to ring. Taking Caine’s advice, she ignored it, waiting until it stopped, then taking the receiver off the hook.

Problem solved, she thought, for now.

But she had much deeper, much more complex problems that sudden wealth had nothing to do with.

She was in love and knew there was no point in questioning it, debating it or denying it. Her heart was the one thing she’d always been sure of.

Often she’d imagined what it would be like to lose it, the thrill and the anxiety of the fall. She’d always wondered who it would be who would make everything inside her yearn. How they would be
together—for in her dreams he’d loved her as well.

But this wasn’t a dream or imagination. Loving Mac was simply and brutally real, with the physical needs so much sharper and more vital than she’d believed herself capable of.

She wanted him, to touch him, to taste, to fulfill the promise of that frantic kiss. She wanted to tremble with the knowledge she was desirable, and oh, she wanted to know what it was to lose herself in sensations.

Just as much, she wanted to curl up against him and know she was welcome there. Even expected there. She wanted to exchange those quiet looks that people who were truly intimate could use as effectively as words.

To be loved in return.

That wasn’t a simple matter.

But something about her stirred him, and that in itself was a miracle. If he could want her, perhaps there was a chance for more. It wasn’t any more impossible, she supposed, than winning more than a million dollars on the single pull of a lever.

Comforted by that, she snuggled into the corner of the sofa, rested her head on the big, soft pillow tucked there and let herself imagine.

She dreamed of showgirls, dozens of them with endless legs and bountiful breasts showcased in brief, glittering costumes and colorful, floating feathers.

She stood among them, miles too short, wearing layers too plain to be noticed. A wren among exotic birds.

Their long legs flashed, their lush bodies turned and twirled while she stumbled through the complex routine. She couldn’t keep up, couldn’t compete. No matter how hard she tried, she was always a step behind. Mac stood watching, a small, amused smile on his face. Beautiful women with long, curvy bodies spun gracefully, seductively around him. Take your pick, they seemed to say.