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Authors: Nora Roberts

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BOOK: The Winning Hand
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“Wait a minute. Damn it,” he muttered, and put a hand on her shoulder to turn her. But she spun around, lifting both hands with a look in her eye that warned him to keep his distance.

“Don’t. I don’t need placating, and I don’t intend to cause a scene. I’m grateful to you, and I don’t
want to forget that. I fully intend to have a relationship with your parents, your family, and I don’t want to put them, or you, in a position that makes that difficult. But you hurt me,” she said quietly. “And you didn’t have to.”

She walked to the door, shut it firmly behind her.

Chapter 12

“So we agree to forgive two million of Harisuki and Tanaka’s baccarat losses.” Justin lounged in the wide leather chair, pretending he didn’t notice his son’s inattention. “That puts them into the casino for ten and twelve million respectively. We comp the rooms, the meals, the bar bills and cover their wives’ spending spree in the boutique. They’ll be back,” he said, drawing idly on his cigar. “And they’ll drop the next several million right here instead of across the street. You arranged for the limo for them tomorrow?” He waited a beat. “Mac?”

“What? Yes. It’s taken care of.”

“Good. Now that we’ve finished all that up, you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Nothing in particular. Do you want a beer?”

Justin indicated assent with a wave of his hand. “We always had to pry problems out of you. Your determination to handle everything yourself is admirable, but it’s annoying.” He smiled cheerfully at his son and accepted the cold brown bottle. “However, in this case, prying isn’t necessary—trouble with Darcy.”

“No. Yes. No,” Mac repeated, and blew out a breath. “She sold her book. Actually she sold two books.”

“That’s wonderful. She must be thrilled. Why aren’t you?”

“I am. I’m happy for her. It’s what she’s always wanted. I don’t think I realized how much she wanted it. This will give her a whole new direction.”

“Is that what’s worrying you? She won’t need you anymore?”

“No. The whole issue is for her to move ahead with her life. This was just some breathing space for her.”

“Was it? Mac, are you in love with her?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s the only point that counts.”

“I’m wrong for her. This place is wrong for her.” Restless, he stalked to the window, staring out at the carnival of neon and colored fountains. “Once she focuses she’ll see that.”

“Why are you wrong for her? It seemed to me you complemented each other very well.”

“I run a casino. My peak hours are when sensible people are tucked into their beds.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “She’s lived a sheltered life. More, a repressed one where she’s been held back, held down. She’s just starting to realize what she can do and be and have. I don’t have any right to interfere with that.”

“You’re making this black and white, sinner and saint. I don’t think either of you qualify. You’re a businessman, and a good one. She’s an interesting, refreshingly enthusiastic young woman.”

“Who walked in here a few weeks ago,” Mac reminded him. “A few weeks ago and at a turning point in her life. She can’t possibly know what her feelings are.”

“You underestimate her. But regardless, aren’t your own feelings important?”

“I’ve already let my feelings take over more than once. She walked in here untouched.” Mac turned back, his eyes swirling and dark. “I changed that. I should have kept my hands off her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Now you’re going to punish yourself for being human,” Justin concluded. “You’re going to deny yourself a relationship that makes you happy, and your reasoning is she’ll be better off.”

“She’s dazzled,” Mac insisted, wondering why saying it all out loud this way made it sound so wrong and so foolish. “And only seeing what she wants to see. She bought a house, for God’s sake.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And—you know.” Mac stared at his father.

“She took your mother to see it the day after she signed the contract. I went to see it myself. It’s a fine piece of property, an intriguing, attractive home.”

“It’s ludicrous to buy a house in a place you’ve only been for a few weeks, and when you’ve spent most of that time in a hotel casino. She’s living in a fantasy land.”

“No, she’s not. She knows exactly what she wants, and I’m surprised you don’t realize that. If you don’t want her, that’s a different matter.”

“I can’t stop wanting her.” It was like an ache that couldn’t be eased. “I was sure I could.”

“Wanting’s easy. The first time I saw your mother I wanted her. That was as natural as breathing. But loving her terrified me. Sometimes it still does.”

Surprised, Mac lowered to a chair. “You make that part look easy, too. You always have. You’re so … matched,” he decided.

“Is that the problem?” Justin leaned over, put his hand over Mac’s.

“No, not a problem. It’s just that marriages work in our family. The odds are against it, but they work for us.” He studied the gold band on his father’s finger. Thirty years, he thought, and it still fit. That was a kind of miracle. “I figure they work because we’re careful to find a mate—in the literal sense of the word. A match.”

“You’re seeing your mother and I as a set, something that came that way. It’s not true. We were a half-breed ex-con who’d gotten lucky and the privileged daughter of wealthy, indulgent parents. Long odds, Mac, on a pair like that.”

“But you were heading in the same direction.”

Justin leaned back again, eyes sharp. “The hell we were. What we did was beat a new path, and there were plenty of bumps along the way.”

“You’re telling me I’ve made a mistake,” Mac murmured. “And maybe you’re right.” He ran his hand over his face. “I’m not sure anymore.”

“You want guarantees? There aren’t any. Loving a woman’s the riskiest game in town. You either put up your stake, or you back away from the table. But if you back away, you never win. Is she the woman you want?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll ask you again. Are you in love with her?”

“Yes.” Admitting it intensified the ache. “And yes, it’s terrifying.”

Sympathizing, Justin smiled. “What do you want to do about it.”

“I want her back.” He let out a long breath. “I’ve got to get her back.”

“How bad have you screwed it up?”

“Pretty bad.” It made him slightly ill to realize just how poorly he’d played his hand. “I all but shoved her out the door.”

“It may take some fast talk to get her to open her side of that door again.”

“So I’ll talk fast.” Misery vanished in a spurt of reckless energy. It was a new hand, he thought, fresh cards. And everything he had was going into the pot. “I’d better go down and try to work this out with her. She must be sitting in her room, miserable, when she should be out celebrating.”

“I think you lose on that one,” Justin murmured, studying the screens.

“There’s a pair of star-shaped diamond earrings in the jewelry store downstairs.” Mac checked his pocket to make certain he had his passkey for the elevator. Just in case. “She should have something special to celebrate selling her book.”

He was suddenly nervous, a sensation he wasn’t accustomed to. “Do you think the earrings and flowers are overkill?”

Justin ran his tongue around his teeth. “I don’t think you can ever overkill in a situation like this. But … you’re not going to find Darcy in her room.”

“Hmm?”

“You’d better take a look. Screen three, second craps table from the left.”

Anxious to be on his way, Mac glanced absently at the screen. Then looked again. His wounded fairy was decked out in that little killer of a red dress with spiked heels to match, and was blowing on a pair of dice.

“What the hell is she doing?”

“Going for an eight. That’s her point. Five and a three,” he said, and grinned when he heard his son slam the door on his way out. “The lady wins.”

“Come on, baby. Come on, doll. Bring it home.”

The man cheering beside Darcy was old enough to be her father, so she didn’t mind the little pat he gave her butt. She took it as a good-luck wish.

She shook the dice in her hand, leaned over the long table and let them fly. Cheers roared out, and money and chips changed hands too quickly for her to follow.

“Seven! All right.” She pumped a fist in the air. After raking in her pile of chips, she began recklessly distributing them again. “This on the point, and this, um, behind. Five’s my point.”

“Roll ’em, blondie.” The man on the other side of her plunked a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “You’re hot.”

“Damn right I am.” She sent the dice tumbling, squinting through the smoke, and howled with triumph when the ivories came up three and two.

“I don’t know why I thought this game was so hard.” She grinned then gulped from the fresh glass of champagne someone handed her. “Hold this, will you?” She shoved the glass at the butt-patter and picked up the dice. “Let mine ride,” she told the croupier. “God, I
love
saying that!” She tossed the dice, then danced on three-inch heels.

Mac had to elbow his way through a crowd gathered four deep. His first sight of her was a tight
little butt molded into clinging red. He caught her elbow just after her toss, and his words were swallowed by the roar of players and onlookers.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She tossed back her head, drunk on victory. “I’m kicking your ass. Back up and give me room so I can kick it some more.”

He snagged her wrist as she leaned over to scoop up the dice. “Cash in.”

“The hell I will. I’m smoking.”

“Come on, pal, let the lady roll.”

Mac merely turned his head and iced down the eager player on the corner of the table with a look. “Cash her in,” he ordered the croupier, then dragged Darcy through the bitter complaints of the crowd.

“You can’t make me stop playing when I’m on a streak.”

“You’re wrong. This is my place, and I can make anybody stop playing anytime. The house has the edge.”

“Fine.” She jerked her arm free. “I’ll take my business elsewhere, and I’m let them know the management at The Comanche can’t hold up under a run of honest luck.”

“Darcy, come upstairs. We need to talk.”

“Don’t tell me what I need to do.” She pulled away again sharply, almost pleased when heads turned and attention zeroed in on them. “I told you I wouldn’t cause a scene, but I will if you push me. You can kick me out of your casino, and you can kick me out of your hotel, but you can’t tell me what I need to do.”

“I’m asking you,” he said with what he considered amazing patience, “to come with me so we can discuss this privately.”

“And I’m telling you, I’m not interested.”

“Okay, the hard way.” He scooped her up and over his shoulder. He’d taken ten strides before she broke through the shock and began to struggle.

“Let go of me. You can’t treat me this way.”

“You made your choice,” he said grimly, and ignored the stunned looks of guests and staff as he carted her to the elevator.

“I don’t want to talk to you. I’m already packed. I’m leaving in the morning. Just let me go.”

“The hell I will.” He keyed in her floor, then dumped her back on her feet. “You’ve got a stubborn streak in you, and I’m—” He broke off when her fist punched into his stomach. It didn’t do much more than bounce off and cause him to lift a coolly amused brow.

“We’ll have to work on that.”

Conceding that she was outgunned, Darcy folded her arms. When the doors opened into her suite, she sailed out. “This may be your place, but this is my room until morning, and I don’t want you in it.”

“We need to straighten things out.”

“Things are perfectly straight, thank you just the same.”

“Darcy, you don’t understand.”

She shoved away the hands he’d laid on her shoulders. “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t think I understand anything. You think I’m a fluff-brained idiot who doesn’t know how to take care of herself.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

“But fluff-brained just the same,” she countered. “Well, I’m sharp enough to know that you got tired of me and your solution was to brush me off like an irritating child.”

“Tired of you?” At the end of his rope, he dragged his hands through his hair. “I know I made a mess of it. Let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. You don’t want me. Fine. I’m not going to jump off a roof over it.” She jerked a shoulder and turned away. “I’m young, I’m rich, I have my career to think of. And you’re not the only man in the world.”

“Just a damn minute.”

“You were the first.” She shot a searing look over her shoulder. “That doesn’t mean you have to be
the last.”

Which had been one of his points. Exactly one of the reasons he’d been so determined to step away. But hearing it from her, seeing that hot, female look in her eyes had a rage bubbling up in him so violently it hazed his vision.

“Watch your step, Darcy.”

“I’ve watched it all my life, and I’m finished. I like leaping before I look. And so far I’m landing on my feet. If and when I fall it’ll be my problem and no one else’s.”

Panic skidded up his spine because he could see she meant it. She could do it, would do it. “You know damn well you’re in love with me.”

BOOK: The Winning Hand
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