Double Down

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1Patrick 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 p*****t 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.