Throb

chapter one-2

Frank pats his chest, hand over his heart. “As long as my ticker keeps going, that game will be around.”

“Grip still playing even though he’s retired?”

“Winter months. Summers, his wife drags his ass to Arizona. Their daughter lives out there now, got two grandkids too.”

“Still rotating Dad’s chair?”

“Yes, sir. No one man can fill that chair. Hey, why don’t you join us tonight? We were going to ask Ted over in finance to play, but that guy always takes my money.”

“Are you saying I won’t take your money?”

Frank laughs. “You got your father’s good looks, you didn’t get his poker playing abilities, kid.”

“Might have to take you up on it, just to kick your old ass, Frank.”

“You do that.” He smiles, the creases on the sides of his eyes deepening. “Eight o’clock?”

“Why not. Hey, do you know where Miles is? I thought he was shooting a promo here today.”

“He’s shooting on location, down at a beach in Malibu.”

Figures—any chance Miles gets to throw a girl in a skimpy bikini. “All right. Well, I’ll be back later to take your money, old man.”

“You keep telling yourself that, kid.”

It’s eight on the nose when I return to the studio lot, looking forward to sitting in on one of my father’s favorite pastimes. Frank’s setting up the card table and Ben is packing a cooler with Heineken.

“What? You think you’re rich or something? Heineken? What happened to Budweiser?” I call out, walking toward Ben with a case of Bud in tow.

“Only your old man drank that shit.” Ben Seidman, the founder and CEO of Diamond Entertainment, clasps my hand as he takes the case. Diamond Entertainment is the second largest movie studio in Hollywood—second to Montgomery Productions, of course. Ben also happens to be one of my father’s oldest friends and my godfather.

“He drank it because it’s good. Not like that imported s**t you’re packing in there.”

For a few minutes the three of us catch up and reminisce about some of the old card games. I’m glad I came tonight. A night with these guys is just what I need. Good memories, cold beer, no talk about the looming union strike aging me prematurely.

I crack a Bud and clink the bottle with Ben’s before taking a sip. Budweiser tastes like crap. I’d much rather be drinking the Heineken that Ben’s drinking—or a Stella from my fridge at home—but I’11never admit it to him. Some things are just part of tradition. “Where’s Grip?”

“Couldn’t make it tonight, wife’s sister had cataract surgery, so he took her up to Seattle to see her or some shit.”

“Ted filling in?”

“Nope.” Frank grins.

“Who’s playing the fourth?”

“Her.” Frank motions to the other side of the room, where a woman is carrying a case of beer. A case of damn Stellas.

“Hey, Frank.” The woman smiles and I almost drop my beer. And it’s not just because she’s drop-dead gorgeous. I can’t believe Frank’s letting a woman play.

“Really?” I say incredulously.

Frank smiles knowingly. “Really.”

“Never thought I’d see the day.” I shake my head.

“What?” The beautiful woman directs her question at me.

“You’re a woman.” I smile, shrugging my shoulders.

“I am?” Eyes wide, feigning surprise, she looks down and playfully pats her body. “Oh my god. I am.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“So a girl can play?” She’s petite, maybe only 5’4, the top of her head barely reaching my chest, but she squares her shoulders and dares me to respond. Oddly, I feel a little twitch in my pants when she challenges me.

“I don’t know, can you?” I decide to stop backpedaling and go on the offense, wanting to see her push back more.

“I can. Can you?” She arches one brow. Damn, it’s sexy. Another twitch.

“Guess you’ll find out,” I tease.

“All right, you two,” Frank breaks in. “Kate, this is Cooper and Ben.” She shakes my hand; her skin is so smooth and soft. Long, blonde, wavy hair loosely frames her pretty face. Unlike most women around this place, it’s almost makeup-free. A hint of pink color and gloss on her lips picks up the lights above. The way it reflects and shimmers has me staring at her full lips a bit too long. It’s an effort to drag my eyes away.

“Do you work at the studio? I haven’t seen you around,” I say curiously.

Frank speaks up before Kate. “Ben, smack this kid in the head, he’s forgetting the rules already.”

I actually did completely forget. No mention of work at all. It was my father’s favorite rule. After the studio started to take off, this hangar was the only place he could really relax and forget who he was for a while. Normally I’d love the rule too, but I find myself eager for a little background on the sexy woman tugging my errant c**k from its self-imposed hibernation.

Kate smiles and shrugs.

Half an hour into the card game, she tosses a straight flush down on the table, just as I’m about to reach over my three aces and sweep the pot.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Again?” I lean back and slump in my chair, defeated.

She smiles and pulls the heaping pile to her side of the table.

“Where’d you learn to play like that?” Ben asks her.

“My dad.”

“Dad’s a poker player, huh?”

“Ever hear of Freddy Monroe?” she asks casually while stacking her chips.

“Five-card Freddy? Sure. He always wore those diamond four-leaf clover cufflinks. He took the Texas Hold ’Em World Championship three times.”

“Four,” Kate corrects. Then adds sheepishly, “He’s my father. I’m a St. Patrick’s Day baby. He had the cufflinks made when I was born.”

Ben laughs and throws his hand in the air, looking at Frank. “You invited a shark to play with us?”

“I was playing solitaire one night when she was in the studio late. We played a few hands of rummy. She beat me twenty-two hands in a row. Figured I’d see if it was beginner’s luck.”

“It ain’t beginner’s luck,” Ben guffaws.

Two more hands and Ben and Frank fold again, leaving just Kate and me. My cards are s**t, but I like the way she pushes back every time I raise the ante, so I just keep throwing good money after bad.

After my last raise, Kate brushes her thumb over the worn chip she’s kept at her side all night, looks down at her pot, then back to me, studying my face. I return the challenging stare. Her blue-green eyes squint ever so slightly as she tries to read what I’ve got sitting face-down on the table. For a second, she drops her gaze and lingers on my mouth before returning to my eyes. I have no idea what she sees, but something makes her smile. It’s slow and confident and she arches one eyebrow before she pushes her chips in. “Call.”

I don’t take my eyes off her as I turn over my pair of twos. She smirks, then turns over a pair of threes. Ben and Frank laugh their asses off and decide we need a short break, one long enough for me to “pull my head out of my ass.”

The two men disappear to the men’s room, leaving just Kate and me sitting at the table. Leaning back in my chair, I ask. “How did you know?”

She shrugs and smiles. “It’s all about reading people.”

“So you can see what I’m thinking?” I lift my beer to my lips and take a slow draw without breaking eye contact.

“Sometimes.”

“What am I thinking about now?” I try in vain to keep a stoic face, but the corner of my mouth tilts up to a dirty grin.

She shakes her head and walks to the restroom smiling, leaving me watching the sway of her ass.

A few hours later, Frank calls for the last hand. I pull a money clip out of my pocket and lay it on the table. Ben takes out a business-card holder engraved with his initials and Frank tosses a pair of my father’s cufflinks to the middle.

“What’s going on?” Kate questions, a look of confusion on her face.

Apparently Frank failed to tell her about the tradition of last hand of the night, so he begins explaining. “Last hand isn’t for cash. It’s something that means something to you, that all of us might want.”

Kate lifts her purse and spends a minute looking through it. Finally, she takes out a pen and paper, writes something down, and folds it up.

“We don’t take IOUs,” I tease.

She looks me in the eye. “It’s my phone number. Didn’t think any of you would want my lipstick or a tampon.” She arches one eyebrow, daring me to question her choice. Another damn twitch. I might have to sit at the table for a while if this is another quick hand.

I laugh, but damn she anted up something I want. Badly. Unfortunately, true to the rest of the night, Kate is the one pulling in the pot at the end of the game.

“You better give me a chance to get my friend’s cufflinks back tomorrow, little lady.” Frank wags his finger at Kate. So she works here. Good to know.

Frank tells us to go, he has a few things to do before he can lock up. Ben takes off quickly, answering yet another call from his third wife. I walk Kate to her car.

“Lucky chip?” I ask, referring to the solid black worn chip she took from her purse and slid her thumb over on more than one occasion while playing.

“It brought my dad a lot of luck over the years.”

I nod. “I’m glad I came tonight. I had a great time. It’s been a while since I played with those guys.”

“Seems like you guys go pretty far back.”

“Pretty sure they were all playing cards in the hospital lobby when I was born,” I joke, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were. I’ll have to ask one day.

“This is me,” Kate says as we arrive at an old Jeep in the parking lot. It’s a beautiful night and the top is already off. She clicks her keys to unlock the door. I open it for her to get in, but hang on to the top, not letting it close.

“Listen, I’d love to take you to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“You left me a couple of bucks, figured I’d like spending them on you as much as I liked losing them to you.”

“You liked losing to me?”

I contemplate the question for a moment. “Oddly, yes. Which is strange because I hate to lose.”

“I’m guessing it doesn’t happen often.”

“What? Losing?”

She nods.

“No, actually. It doesn’t. I tend to go after what I want until I win.” Our eyes lock on each other, something passing between the two of us, a thick tension swirls in the air. “So…dinner?”

Kate smiles, but the uptick at the corners of her mouth quickly turns down. “I can’t.” She looks hesitant, but offers no further explanation. “I had fun tonight.” She reaches into her purse, pulls something out, and extends her hand to me. “I don’t really want to keep your money clip. I noticed it wasn’t your first initial engraved on it. Maybe it means something to you?” She tilts her head, observing me.

“It does. But that’s okay. You keep it. It’ll give me a reason to see you again.” I reach down, close her fingers back around the money clip, and lift her hand to my mouth. My lips brush the top lightly, my tongue sneaking out to fleetingly touch her skin. The brief contact stirs an ache inside me. This woman tugs at something—more than arousal—something that makes me want to slow down time just to spend a few more minutes standing here.

“Did you just …” she stammers a bit.

“Did I just what?”

She squints at me. “You know.”

“Do I?”

“I felt your tongue on my hand. You … you licked me.”

I’d been dying to run my tongue along her neck all evening, although I hadn’t really meant to be so crude about it. It just sort of … happened. “I wouldn’t say licked, maybe just a little taste.”

“So you tasted me?”

My entire body suddenly has interest in this conversation. “I suppose I did. But it wasn’t nearly enough. That brings us back to my invitation for dinner. Tomorrow night?”

“I can’t.”

“The day after then?”

She laughs and shakes her head. The sound makes me smile.

“Good night, Cooper.” She pulls the driver’s side door shut and leaves me standing there … for a full five minutes after she’s gone.