Double Down

Patrick Gerhart’s sudden idea wasn’t accompanied with the proverbial light bulb. It was heralded by an entire bank of actual light bulbs, flashing without any real pattern, while annoying sirens wailed and calliope music played. “Somebody hit the jackpot,” Ronnie said, his eyes immediately drawn to the hullabaloo. “Does it have to be so noisy?” Whitney muttered, touching her temples. “Well, we are in a casino, babe.” Patrick shifted his weight as the long line ahead of them moved. “Wouldn’t you want the whole world to know if it you hit it big?” She just rolled her eyes and took a bottle of pain relievers from her purse. Patrick didn’t mind that his girlfriend wasn’t in the mood to talk. He was more interested in the fourth of their group. Cass Davison stood silently beside Ronnie, but she wasn’t looking at her boyfriend. From their vantage point in the Mirage’s lobby, the blackjack tables were in full view. She watched them with a hungry expression, her full lips pulled into a distracted smile. She’d be a vision of perfection—all sultry curves and dark, flashing eyes—if her hand wasn’t tucked into Ronnie’s. Cass had been talking smack since the plane landed, not-so-jokingly informing everybody she planned to take their money. Whitney had merely grimaced, annoyed. She didn’t like anybody when she had a headache. Ronnie had laughed and informed her he didn’t intend to lose money to anybody while he sunned himself at the pool, but she was more than welcome to play a few hands of cards. Patrick was the only one who didn’t comment, but now he thought he would take her up on her offer. The line to check-in shuffled forward. They were only going to be in Vegas for three days, but three days was plenty of time in the city that never slept. Especially if they could finally get their rooms so Whitney could lay down. He knew her well enough to know she would want to sleep. She wouldn’t miss him at all if he decided to stay in the casino and play a few hands. Or do more than just play cards. “I just want to lay down for the rest of the day.” Whitney sighed. “It must have been the plane.” “I’m feeling pretty good,” Patrick said. They moved another foot closer to the check-in desk. “Do you mind if I explore the casino a bit?” She didn’t look pleased at the suggestion. “No, I guess not.” The line finally broke as a third computer opened up, and Patrick stepped forward to handle all the paperwork. He saw Cass out of the corner of his eye. There was still plenty of time to change his mind. Plenty of time to back down, to spend the rest of the evening in bed with Whitney, to remind himself that Ronnie was his best friend, and Ronnie was infatuated with Cass. But Patrick had seen Cass first, and he could never forget that. Their rooms were side by side on the twenty-seventh floor. As they headed for the guest elevators, Patrick fell into step beside Cass, his hand brushing against hers. “Up for a game or two of blackjack?” Her smile was sly as she turned to face him, her dark eyes dancing. “That depends. You up for losing your stash your first night in Vegas?” “Let’s just say, I’m not too worried about that happening.” “This isn’t some soundproof booth you can hide away in, you know. You gotta play it for real here.” Patrick glanced at Ronnie and Whitney, but they didn’t seem to be paying attention to him. He dropped his voice lower. “Care to make a friendly side wager?” “You want to lose your money twice as fast? Far be it for me to stop you.” “Actually…” Patrick touched her arm, forcing her to slow so the distance between them and Whitney and Ronnie grew wider. “I was thinking we could both put up something besides money.” The crowd around them seemed to close in as a shade of Cass’s bravado paled. People slipped in between them and their significant others as they worked their way across the floor, but with her large eyes now fixed on him, Patrick was oblivious to anything but her. Her throat worked once before she answered. “Your money’s the only thing you’ve got that interests me. Unless you know something I don’t.” Patrick shrugged. “Well, if you only want money from me, I’d be willing to put up a couple of grand. But I’m more interested in you than I am your money.” His meaning sank in immediately. That was one of the things he liked best about Cass. Where Whitney was all about her little games, Cass didn’t f**k around with pretense. “And you don’t think your girlfriend might have a problem with that?” she asked, matching his tone. “Or, you know, Ronnie?” “I don’t plan to tell them, and they never need to know. This is between you and me, Cass. But if you don’t think you can win…well, I can find better ways to spend my money.” Which was a lie. Patrick couldn’t think of anything else he wanted to do in the whole damned city. They reached the bank of elevators before Cass had a chance to respond, and she moved away from his side to loop her arm through Ronnie’s. Every once in awhile, she glanced in Patrick’s direction, her dark gaze assessing his every move, but it wasn’t until they were stepping out onto their floor that she spoke. Except it wasn’t to him. “You still planning on hitting the pool?” she asked Ronnie as he pulled their case down the hall. “Yeah, why?” His amiable grin brightened his features. “You planning on coming down and wowing everybody in your bikini?” “I’m going to hit the tables with Patrick.” She said it without even looking in his direction. “He’s got this itch to give me all his money.” Whitney turned a pout to Patrick. “Are you really going to go downstairs and gamble?” “What else would I do in Vegas?” “Go to the pool? See the shows? Gambling just seems like a waste of time to me.” “It can be,” Patrick agreed, “but sometimes when the stakes are high, it’s worth it.” “If you say so.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes framed by thick lashes. “Will you take me out to dinner tonight? I should be feeling better by then.” “Absolutely,” Patrick promised as they reached their door. “There’s a McDonald’s across the street,” Cass said. “That’ll be all about he can afford by the time I’m done with him.” “You mean, when the house is done with him,” Ronnie offered. “When somebody’s done with him.” She glanced back at Patrick. “Give me five minutes.” “I’ll be waiting,” Patrick said, before sliding the card into the lock and pushing his door open. He allowed Whitney to fuss over him for a few moments, repeating her earlier disbelief that anybody would want to gamble. But she didn’t really have the energy to keep that up for long, and he was able to dim the lights and get her into bed. She smiled thankfully as he put a glass of cool water on the nightstand. “Enjoy your nap.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” “Good luck.” Patrick only smiled before slipping out the door. Cass was already waiting for him in the hall. “You sure about this?” he greeted. “I’m sure you’re going to lose.” “And if I don’t? Are you going to try to back out of the deal? I need some guarantee you won’t.” She started down the hall, her strides long and confident. “I’m not talking about this in front of my room. Buy me a drink and we’ll hammer out the details there.” Patrick followed her, smiling a little as he watched the familiar sway of her ass. He didn’t think she would go back on their bet. They had made minor, friendly bets before, and she never avoided payment when she lost. And he didn’t think she was taking him up on the wager because she needed his money. This was a matter of pride for her. But he’d buy her a drink anyway. There was no shortage of booze in the casino, and he followed her to a smallish bar in the sports section, a bank of televisions above the table broadcasting the results from the day’s horse races. “What’s your poison?” he asked, once they were both seated. Cass flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she scanned the beer choices. “Sam Adams,” she told the bartender. She waited until they were alone again before swiveling back to face Patrick, their knees brushing against each other. “Are you serious about this?” “Cass, you know me well enough to know that if I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t have said it.” He put his hand on the bar, his pinky finger touching hers. “I want to know why you didn’t slap me for suggesting such a thing and immediately tell Ronnie.” “Maybe because I’m a big girl who doesn’t need to go tattling to her boyfriend every time somebody makes a pass at her.” Her mouth curved. “You really think you’re the first guy to proposition me?” Patrick sat back in his chair, his smile matching hers. “No, probably not. Besides, what’s the point in telling him if I’m just going to lose anyway, right?” “Right. So. Speaking of losing, how are we working this? Whoever ends up with the most chips at the end of a certain time period wins?” “Works for me. We’ll play for…” He wanted to say thirty minutes. Maybe even less. It decreased his chances of winning, but it increased his chances of getting to her. “Two hours. Same table. No breaks. At the end of the two hours, we’ll compare the chips. If you win, you get all mine, plus an additional two grand. If I win, I get you.” Her lashes ducked as their drinks arrived. She toyed with the bottle, taking a long swallow before finally looking at him again. “Tell me why you’re doing this, and you’ve got yourself a deal.” It was the easiest condition he’d ever met. “Because our double-blind date wasn’t so blind. I knew who you were before I agreed to go on it. The only problem was, I never counted on Ronnie making such an overt and immediate claim for your attention. And I’ve been watching you two for the past several months, trying to convince myself that I don’t really want you. But that’s a lie. I do. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.” Her eyes started widening at the confession about the blind date, but she covered her obvious surprise by downing another long swig of her beer. By the time Patrick finished speaking, she was back to her usual cocky self. “Sucks to be you,” she said. “Because you’ve got a hell of a lot more pretending to do after I kick your ass on this bet.” He moved his finger over hers, draping it over her knuckle. It was only a tiny bit of contact, but it was enough to make him warm. Her skin was soft, and he could imagine how smooth and warm she would feel everywhere. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her mouth on his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist. “I’ve had a lot of practice. But we don’t have a lot of time. Whitney will expect me back in time for dinner. Is Ronnie going to be expecting you?” Cass glanced at their hands, and, for a second, he thought she was going to pull away. “No,” she said, not moving. “I told him to come looking for me whenever he got hungry.” She grinned. “So if I were you, I’d get us to a table pretty darn quick if you want to stand a chance of even making it to the two hours.” Patrick pulled a few bills out of his pocket with his free hand and left them on the bar. His fingers curled around hers as he stood, and he pulled her to her feet. Nodding toward the series of tables visible several feet away, he said, “Lady’s choice.” She led him through the maze of people without breaking the contact of their hands, stopping only when she reached a nearly empty table in a no-smoking section. A lone player sat in an end chair, a grizzled man in his sixties with knuckles knotted by time, and Cass flashed him a bright smile as she took the chair next to him. “Wanna be my good luck charm for the next two hours?” she said, completely ignoring Patrick. The old man grunted, but then did a double-take. “Young lady, I think you’re going to be my good luck charm.” Cass laughed and pulled money out of her tight jeans pocket. “Five hundred,” she said to the dealer. She glanced at Patrick. “That work for you?” “That’s fine,” Patrick said, taking five one hundred dollar bills from his wallet. “I suppose it goes without saying it’s over if either one of us runs out of chips before the two hours is up.” She leaned in, her soft breasts pressing against his arm. “Just means I get to go find Ronnie sooner,” she whispered in his ear. “And poor Whitney will get woken up from her nap when you go and jump her because you couldn’t get me.” Patrick accepted the chips from the dealer with a small nod before murmuring, “It wouldn’t be the first time.” It was worth hearing her sharp intake of breath before she pulled back, but Cass studiously kept her attention away from him as the cards were dealt. The first few hands went quickly, with her initial bets larger than Patrick anticipated. She laughed with the old man, teasing him unmercifully when he failed to split a pair of eights, but when the cards started to turn against her, Cass settled down, concentrating more on her dwindling pile of chips than on charming anyone who wasn’t Patrick. Patrick didn’t fancy himself much of a shark, but he had a good feel for the cards, and he knew how to take advantage of a run of good luck. He played conservatively at first, his bets consistently smaller than Cass’s. It was partly because he knew he needed to keep a tight rein on himself, partly because he wanted her to think he was a bit of a chicken. “So, I was thinking we could go to your room,” Patrick said, after he beat the dealer with nineteen. “If I know Ronnie, he’s probably just about falling asleep out by the pool.” “You haven’t won yet.” Her fingers drummed along the edge of the table as she watched the dealer dole out another hand. “Not that I’m saying you’re going to, but let’s say you do. You really want Whitney in the next room? Kind of puts a crimp on how much noise you can make.” “I’m quite adept at not shouting out your name at…inappropriate moments. Besides, if she hears anything at all, she’ll just think you lost interest in the casino and came upstairs early.” Cass smiled at the pair of aces she held. “Splitting,” she announced, separating the cards and tossing in the new bet. “I suppose if what Whitney says is true, it’ll all be over in five minutes anyway.” Patrick checked his facedown card. “Hit me. And, Cass, it’d be the best five minutes of your life.” “Oh, I dunno about that. I’ve had a pretty exciting life so far.” She swore when the dealer turned over twenty to her two nineteens. “Though tonight is turning into a bust.” Patrick only smiled as he revealed his twenty, and the dealer bypassed the pile of chips in front of his cards. “Looks like it’s going to plan to me.” A server in a skimpy outfit sauntered by and he gestured for her. “Can I get a rum and coke, and a Sam Adams for my friend here.” Cass kept her bet low on the next hand, riffling through her stack of chips as she sat in silence. She didn’t speak until she pushed on eighteen, shifting to face him a little more directly. “What would you do if Ronnie found out about this little bet?” she asked. “Depends on how he found out. If you told him, I guess I’d have to be honest with him. If he just suspected something was up and confronted me, I’d lie.” “But he’s your best friend.” “Would that be an argument against honesty or against lying?” “Either. Both.” The drinks arrived, and she immediately took a long swallow. “I guess I’m trying to figure out why you decided to do this now, of all weekends.” Patrick grinned at her. “Because what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Because I was feeling lucky. Because I wanted to know if you could walk the walk after running your mouth.” “I can…” She scowled at the cards she’d been dealt. “…when the cards aren’t completely f*****g with me.” Her eyes darted from hers to the eight the dealer had showing. “Hit me.” The jack he tossed Cass had her growling in disgust and reaching for her beer. “You’ve got balls, Patrick, I’ll give you that.” “Hit me.” The dealer laid down a three and Patrick flipped his down card up, revealing an eight to match his ten and three. “Twenty-one.” He reached for his drink and shrugged. “Sometimes you’ve got to be willing to take a chance. That’s what gambling is all about, right?” “But you’ve never even kissed me. How do you know it’s not all in your head, something you’ve built up since that blind date?” “Good point.” He leaned over, his hand cupping the back of her head, and touched her mouth with his. It was the slightest caress, but it sent a sharp jolt down his spine. Knowing he could have more, could have it all, in a less than an hour, made his groin tighten. Patrick leaned back and licked his lips. “What do you think?” He caught the glitter of her eyes before she turned back in her seat. “I think this bet’s not over yet.” Patrick checked his watch, releasing his breath in a long sigh. “Fifty-three minutes to go.” And he was certain it would be the longest damned fifty-three minutes of his life. Even if he ultimately lost the bet, he’d be tasting her mouth for the rest of the night. “Keep your chin up, Cass. You could hit it big on the next hand.” It didn’t happen. If anything, Cass’s luck worsened, though his hands weren’t that much better. The only one having any luck at all was the old man at the end of the table, but if he wanted to leech away Cass’s charm, that was all right with Patrick. “Maybe we should try another table,” Cass said out of the blue. She gestured at his chips. “It’s not like you’re winning that much either.” Patrick shook his head. “Nope, that wasn’t part of the deal. Same table for two hours. One of us will have the most in the end, even if it’s just a dollar.” He leaned over like he intended to kiss her again, but he paused an inch from her mouth. “What’s the problem, Cass? Getting a little worried?” Her breath was bittersweet from the beer, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. “Never,” she murmured. “Not my style.” “No, I guess it’s not.” He settled on his stool again. “You know, I do have one little regret about this situation. It’s not like we’ve got a lot of time to do it properly. It’s going to be a little bit wham, bam, thank you ma’am. But maybe that’s the way you like it.” Cass immediately reached for her drink. “You’re the one who asked for it this way, if I remember correctly. Maybe you’re the one with the quickie fetish.” “I would have asked for a whole night if I thought I could get away with it. Unfortunately, I didn’t think we could pull that off until we got back from Vegas. And I wasn’t willing to wait.” “You’ve waited this long already. Three days should’ve been nothing.” He grinned. “Do you want to change the terms of the bet now? I’ll let you switch tables.” For a second, she looked like she was actually considering it. He saw her gaze flicker to the surrounding tables, but when she froze, he turned to see what had stopped her. Ronnie’s damp head bobbed through the crowd, neck craning as he scanned the blackjack tables for Cass. His dark hair was plastered to his skull, a towel draped over his shoulders, and the sudden fear that his friend was already done with his swim had Patrick stiffening in his seat. He spotted them almost immediately and smiled as he headed straight for their table. “You have got to try that pool.” He came to a stop standing between them, though most of his attention was fixed on Cass. That was a common thing. “It’s amazing.” “You’re done already?” she asked. “Nah. I got bored all on my own. I was hoping you might be done so that I could drag you in with me.” “Actually,” Patrick said smoothly, “despite all Cass’s bluster and my teasing, we’ve both lost quite a bit of money. I think we need to recoup at least some of our losses to save face a little.” His eyes met Cass’s, daring her to back down. She could walk away here, and he wouldn’t be able to say a thing to stop her. He had absolutely no idea which option she would choose. “Sorry, Ronnie,” she said. “Patrick’s right. Whitney didn’t even want to get woken up for at least another couple hours, and if she’s stuck with Big Macs for supper, she’s going to totally blame me for corrupting her boyfriend.” “But hey,” Patrick said quickly, before Ronnie could protest. “The buffet’s on me tonight.” Ronnie looked less than happy, but shrugged good-naturedly. “Guess I better go back to working up an appetite then.” He bent down and brushed a kiss across Cass’s cheek, water dripping from his hair onto her bare arm. “I’ll see you upstairs.” Patrick watched until Ronnie disappeared, then calmly reached across and wiped the water from her arm. “Why didn’t you go with him?” Though she turned away, he saw the goose bumps erupt in the spot where he’d touched her. “Because I don’t welsh on bets,” she said. “I told you that.” “I don’t think I could have held it against you if you actually left with the guy who brought you.” Patrick eyed her diminished stack of chips. “Maybe it’s not the cards turning against you.” A muscle twitched in her jaw. “Get over yourself, Patrick. Just because you’re good-looking, doesn’t mean I’ve been dying to get into bed with you.” Patrick threw a couple of chips in front of his cards. “No, clearly not. And you can spend the next…” He made a show of glancing at his watch, even though he knew exactly how much time was left, “thirty minutes thinking about just how much you don’t want to go to bed with me, and how you wish something could have rescued you from your plight. Like, your boyfriend maybe?” Cass remained silent for the next hand, and though she won, it didn’t get her close to matching Patrick’s pile. When it came her turn to bet again, she hesitated, long fingers playing with her chips. “Your bet, miss?” the dealer prompted. She dropped what she held and pushed her whole pile forward. “I’m all in for this one.” Patrick whistled softly, not interested in teasing her anymore. She had a seven showing, and he had fifteen. He didn’t need blackjack; he just needed to beat eighteen. “Hit me.” “Five. Dealer hits.” The dealer had a seven and a two showing. Patrick nodded, and pushed the rest of his pile in front of the cards. “I’m standing.” “Dealer stands.” Cass flipped an ace, as he expected. The dealer flipped a jack, beating Cass with nineteen. And Patrick showed off his king of hearts. “Not quite blackjack, but close enough.” She didn’t speak, simply picked up her beer and drained the rest of the bottle. Hopping off her seat, she surprised the old man by planting a kiss on his cheek. “That’ll have to hold you,” he heard her murmur. Then she turned to Patrick, pulling her room key out of her pocket. “Sometimes, you’ve got to be willing to take a chance. You ready to go?” He stood, taking her hand again. “Let’s get out of here.”