by Nora Roberts
The MacGregor’s interrogation.”
“It’s all right.” She kept her back to him, stared out at the sun shining on towering buildings. “He sounds formidable.”
“Hard shell, soft center.”
“Mmm.” She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but how could she have helped hearing Mac’s part of the conversation? The love and exasperation in his voice had touched her. And his words had cleared up her confusion.
Showgirls. Of course he would be attracted to the long legs, the beautiful bodies, the exotic faces. He’d only been curious, she supposed. That’s why he’d kissed her. But damn him, damn him for stirring up all this need that she’d managed to live very contentedly without until now.
“I seem to have gotten distracted from the point of coming to see you.” He waited for her to turn and face him. At a casual glance she appeared perfectly composed. But he couldn’t seem to glance at her casually. He was compelled to search, and a search of those eyes revealed bruises and storms. “Now you’re angry.”
“No, I’m irritated, but I’m not angry. What was the point,” she began, then paused significantly, “of your coming to see me?”
That flair for sarcasm surprised him. The edge of it pricked at him enough to have him pushing off the desk and shoving his hands into his pockets. “The point was the press. I know you’re concerned about your name getting out. We’re being deluged with calls for the full story. I can hold them off, but it’s bound to leak, Darcy. The hotel employs hundreds, and several people already know your name. Sooner rather than later, one of them is going to talk to a reporter.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” She supposed she should be grateful he’d given her something else to worry about. “I’m sure you think I’m a coward, not wanting Gerald to know where I am.”
“I think that’s your business.”
“I am a coward.” She said it defiantly, tossing up her chin in a challenging gesture that contrasted with her words. “I’d rather agree than quarrel, rather run than fight. But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Here with you, about to become wealthy. Cowardice works for me.”
“He can’t hurt you, Darcy.”
“Of course he can.” Lifting her hands, she gave a weary sigh. “Words hurt. They bruise the heart and scar the soul. I’d rather be slapped than battered with words.” Then she shook her head. “Well, whatever happens, happens. How much time do you think I have before my name gets out?”
“A day or two.”
“Then I should make the most of it. I appreciate you letting me know. You must be busy. I don’t want to keep you.”
“Kicking me out?”
She managed a small smile. “We both know you have other things to do. I don’t need you to babysit.”
“All right.” He started for the door, then stopped and turned with his hand on the knob. “I wanted to kiss you again.” He watched her gaze flick warily to his face. “A little too much for your own good, and maybe for my own.”
Her heart stuttered. “Maybe I’m tired of my own good, and willing to gamble.”
Something flashed into his eyes that made her shudder. “High stakes, bad odds. Too risky for a novice, Darcy from Kansas. First rule is never bet what you can’t afford to lose.”
When he closed the door quietly behind him, she let out the breath she’d been holding. “Why do I have to lose?”
She kept to herself the rest of the day, writing furiously in her notebook. The garage that had towed in her car called to tell her it was repaired. On impulse she asked the mechanic if he knew anyone who would buy it. She was finished with it, after all, and with everything else—save her notebooks—that she’d brought with her from Trader’s Corners.
When the mechanic offered her a thousand dollars, she snapped it up without bargaining, and hurried out to sign over the paperwork.
There was a slick little laptop computer sitting on her desk when she returned, with a note telling her that it was hers to use during her stay, courtesy of The Comanche. Thrilled, Darcy stroked it, examined it, experimented with it, then settled down to transcribe her notes onto the screen.
She worked straight through dinner and into the evening until her eyes blurred and her fingers went numb. Hunger rumbled in her stomach. It was tempting to reach for the phone, to order something to be brought to the room. To stay hidden.
Instead she picked up her purse, squared her shoulders. She was going out, she decided. She’d have a meal, some wine if she wanted. Then, by God, she was going to gamble.
* * *
The tables were crowded and the air stung with smoke and perfume when she entered the casino. She wanted to watch, to study. Figure the odds, Mac had said. Learn the rules. She intended to do just that. She liked the world here, the hard-edged brightness of it, the thrill of risk.
She wandered through, loitering by a blackjack table long enough to see a man in shirtsleeves with a thin black cigar clamped between his teeth lose five thousand dollars without flinching.
Amazing.
She studied the spin of the wheel, the teasing bounce of the little silver ball at roulette. Saw stacks of chips come and go. Odd or even. Black or red.
Fascinating.
Behind it all was the never-ending beeps and whistles and clinks of the slots. Lights beckoned. Jackpot. She studied the technique of an elderly woman who leaned on a walker and mumbled to the spinning face of a machine. And gave a cheerleader’s shout when quarters cascaded into the metal dish.
“Fifty bucks,” the woman said, shooting Darcy a steely smile. “About time this sucker paid off.”
“Congratulations. It’s poker, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Been nickel-and-diming me for two hours. But it’s heating up now.” She gave the machine a friendly thump with her walker, then stabbed the red button again. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
It looked like fun, Darcy decided. Simple, uncomplicated, and an excellent place to start. She walked down the line until she came to an unoccupied machine, then slid onto the stool. After reading the instructions, she put a twenty in the slot and watched her credits light. She pushed the button, grinning as her hand was dealt.
In his office, Mac watched her on-screen. He could only shake his head. In the first place, she was playing like a chump, one credit at a time. If she wanted to hit, she needed to play four, a buck a hand. Now she was holding two kings instead of going for the straight flush.
It was pitifully obvious she’d never played poker before in her life.
Well, he’d keep an eye on her, make certain she didn’t lose more than a few hundred.
He glanced over at the door when a knock sounded, then his smile spread with delight when his mother poked her head in. “Hello, handsome.”
“Hello, gorgeous.” He caught her around the waist in a fierce hug and pressed his lips to her soft, burnished gold hair. “I didn’t expect you for another day or two.”
“We finished up early.” She cupped his face in her hands and smiled at him. “And I wanted to see my boy.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’ll be right along. He got waylaid in the lobby so I deserted him.”
Mac laughed and kissed her again. She was so beautiful, with soft skin, exotic eyes a unique shade of lavender, and strong facial bones that guaranteed grace and beauty for a lifetime. “Serves him right. Come sit down. Let me get you a drink.”
“I would love a glass of wine. It’s been a long day.” With a sigh Serena sat in one of the leather chairs, stretched out long legs that rustled with silk. “I talked to Caine this morning. He tells me he’s getting the paperwork finished up for this woman who hit the big machine here. The press is full of Madam X,” she added.
With a short laugh, Mac poured a glass of his mother’s favored white wine. “I can’t think of a title that suits her less.”
“Really. What’s she like?”
“See for yourself.” He gestured to the screen. “The little blonde in the blue b
louse at the poker slot.”
Serena shifted, sipping her wine as she studied the monitor. She lifted a brow as Darcy held a pair of eights and tossed away the best part of a flush. “Not much of a player, is she?”
“Green as they come.”
Serena’s gambler’s heart warmed when Darcy pulled another two eights. “Lucky little thing, though. And pretty. Is it true she was dead broke when she walked in here?”
“Just about down to her last dollar.”
“Well, good for her.” Serena lifted her glass to toast the screen. “I’m looking forward to meeting her. Oh good, someone’s going to give her a little help.”
“What?” Alerted, Mac looked back at the screen and saw a man slip onto the stool beside her. He saw the quick, flirtatious grin, the easy brush of a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. And Darcy’s wide-eyed, attentive smile. “Son of a bitch.”
Mac was halfway out the door before Serena could leap to her feet. “Mac?”
“I’ve got to get down there.”
“But why—”
As her son dashed off, Serena decided there was only one way to find out why. She set her wine aside and hurried after him.
Chapter 5
People were so nice, so friendly, Darcy thought. And so helpful, she decided as she smiled at the attractive man in the Stetson who’d settled down beside her at the slots.
His name was Jake, and he was from Dallas which, as he said, practically made them neighbors.
“I’m really new at this,” she told him confidentially, and his sunshine blue eyes laughed into hers.
“Why, I could spot that right off, sugar. Now like I said first off, you want to plug in the maximum credits for each hand, otherwise you don’t get yourself a full payoff when you hit.”
“Right.” Dutifully Darcy pressed the credit button, then punched for the deal. She studied her hand thoughtfully. “I’ve got two threes, so I hold them.”
“Well now, you could.” Jake laid a hand over hers before she could press to hold the cards. “But you see, you’re after that royal straight flush, right? That’s the jackpot. You got yourself the ace, queen and the jack of hearts there. Couple treys aren’t going to get you anything. Even a triple’s just keeping you in the game.”
She nibbled her lip. “I should throw away the threes?”
“If you’re going to gamble”—he winked at her—“you should gamble.”
“Right.” She furrowed her brow and let the threes go. She plucked an ace and a five. “Oh, well, that’s no good.” Still she remembered what the blackjack dealer had said, and turned to Jake with a smile. “But I lost correctly.”
“There you go.” She was cute as a brass button, he thought, sweet as a daisy and looked to be just as easy to pick. Charmed, he leaned in a little closer. “Why don’t I buy you a drink, and we’ll talk poker strategy.”
“The lady’s unavailable.” Mac dropped a proprietary and none too gentle hand on Darcy’s shoulder.
Her head whipped up, her shoulders tensed. “Mac.” He had that frigid look in his eyes again, she noted. Not that he spared her a glance. The ice was all for her new friend from Dallas. “Ah, this is Jake. He was showing me how to play the poker machine.”
“So I see. The lady’s with me.”
Jake ran his tongue around his teeth and, after a brief internal debate, decided he wanted to keep those teeth just where they were. “Sorry, pal. Didn’t know I was poaching.” He rose, tipped his hat to Darcy. “You hold out for that royal straight flush now.”
“Thank you.” She held out her hand, confused when Jake’s eyes shifted to Mac’s before he accepted.
“My pleasure.” After a short and silent male exchange, Jake swaggered off.
“I’d been doing it wrong,” Darcy began. And that was as far as she got.
“Didn’t I tell you not to come down here at night alone?” The fact that he was speaking softly didn’t lessen the power and fury behind the words. It only added to them.
“That’s ridiculous.” She wanted badly to cringe, and had to force herself not to. “You can’t expect me to sit in my room all night. I was only—”
“This is exactly why. Ten minutes at a machine and you’re getting hit on.”
“He wasn’t hitting on me. He was helping me.”
Mac’s opinion of that was short and pithy and put some steel back in Darcy’s spine.
“Don’t swear at me.”
“I was swearing in general.” He put a hand under her elbow and hauled her to her feet. “The cowboy wasn’t going to buy you a drink to be helpful. He was just priming the pump, and believe me, yours is easily primed.”
She started to shake, and realized it was just as much from anger as fear. “Well, if he was, and it is, it’s my business.”
“My place. My business.”
She hissed in a breath, tried to jerk free and failed. “Let go of me. I don’t have to stay here. If I’d wanted some overbearing male ordering me around, I’d still be in Kansas.”
His smile was as thin and sharp as his name. “You’re not in Kansas anymore.”
“That’s both obvious and unoriginal. Now let go of me. I’m leaving. There are plenty of other places where I can gamble and socialize without being harassed by the management.”
“You want to gamble?” To her shock and—God help her—excitement, he backed her up against the machine with something close to murder in his eyes. “You want to socialize?”
“Mac?” Deciding she’d seen quite enough, Serena stepped up, a bright, friendly smile in place. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
He turned his head and stared. He’d completely, totally forgotten about his mother. He saw easily beyond the smile to the command in her eyes. And felt twelve years old again.
“Of course.” With a smoothness that blanketed both his straining temper and embarrassment, he shifted his grip on Darcy’s arm. “Serena MacGregor Blade, Darcy Wallace. Darcy, my mother.”
“Oh.” Not nearly as skilled as Mac, Darcy didn’t come close to hiding both her distress and mortification. “Mrs. Blade. How do you do?”
“I’m so happy to meet you. I just got into town and was about to ask Mac about you.” Still smiling, she slid an arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “Now I can ask you in person. Let’s go get a drink. Mac,” she added, casting a smug look over her shoulder as she led Darcy away, “we’ll be in the Silver Lounge. Tell your father where I am, will you?”
“Oh sure,” Mac muttered. “Fine.” He resisted, barely, giving the slot a swift kick, and instead dutifully cashed Darcy out.
In a relatively quiet corner of a cocktail lounge gleaming with silver tables and rich black cushions, Darcy ran her fingers up and down the stem of a glass of white wine. She’d taken one sip, to clear her dry throat, but was afraid to take more.
Mac was probably right about one thing, she’d decided. She didn’t hold her liquor very well.
“Mrs. Blade, I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Really?” Serena relaxed against the cushions and took stock of the young woman facing her. Prettier still up close, she mused, in a delicate, almost ethereal, way. Big innocent eyes, a doll’s mouth, nervous hands.
Not the type her son usually looked at twice, she reflected. She knew very well his taste generally ran to the long, lean and, in her opinion, somewhat brittle sort of woman. She also knew him well enough to be sure he rarely, very rarely lost his temper over one.
“Mac did ask me not to come down to the casino alone at night.”
Serena arched a brow. “I can’t see that he’d have any right to do that.”
“No, but … he’s been so kind to me.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“What I mean is, he really only asked me that one thing. It’s understandable he’d be angry I didn’t listen.”
“It’s understandable he’d be angry because he’s used to getting his way.” Serena studied Darcy over the rim of her glass. “That’s not your
problem.”
“He feels responsible for me.”
It was said in such a miserably depressed tone that Serena had to swallow a chuckle. She had an inkling her son felt a bit more than responsibility. “He’s always taken his responsibilities seriously. Again, not your problem. Now, tell me everything.” She leaned forward, inviting confidences. “I’ve gotten it all second hand—either from what Mac told my husband or the papers. I want the whole story, straight from the source.”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Oh, at the beginning.”
“Well.” Darcy contemplated her wine, then risked another sip. “It was all because I didn’t want to marry Gerald.”
“Really?” Delighted, Serena inched closer. “And who is Gerald?”
An hour later, Serena was fascinated, charmed and feeling sentimentally maternal toward Darcy. She’d already decided to extend her quick trip to several days when she covered Darcy’s hand with hers. “I think you’ve been incredibly brave.”
“I don’t feel brave. No one’s ever been as kind to me as Mac has, and I’ve made him so angry. Mrs. Blade—”
“I hope you’ll call me Serena,” she interrupted. “Especially since I’m going to offer you some unsolicited advice.”
“I’d appreciate some advice.”
“Don’t change anything.” Now Serena squeezed Darcy’s hand. “Mac will deal with it, I promise you. You be exactly what you are, and you enjoy it.”
“I’m attracted to him.” Darcy winced then scowled down at her empty glass. “I shouldn’t have had the wine. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re his mother.”
“Yes, I am, and as such I’d be insulted if you weren’t attracted to him. I happen to think he’s a very attractive young man.”
“Of course. I mean …” She trailed off, her eyes shifting up, then going wide. “Oh.” She barely breathed as she stared at the man who stepped up to the table. “You are the war chief.”
Justin Blade flashed a grin at her, then slid into the booth beside his wife. “You must be Darcy.”
“He looks so much like you. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to stare.”
“The day I mind being stared at by a pretty young woman is the day life stops being worth living.”
Justin draped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. He was a tall, lean man with black hair streaked with silver as bright as the table, and his eyes were green, sharp and deep in a tanned and weathered face. They skimmed over Darcy with both approval and interest.
“Now I know what Mac meant about the fairy wings. Congratulations on your luck, Darcy.”
“Thank you. It doesn’t seem real yet.” She glanced around the glittery lounge. “None of it does.”
“Any plans for your new fortune? Other than giving us the chance to win some of it back.”
She smiled now, fully. “Oh, he is like you. Actually, I seem to win a little every time I play.” She tried to make it sound apologetic, but spoiled it with a chuckle. “But I have put some back—into the shops and salons.”
“A woman after my own heart,” Serena declared. “We do have wonderful shops here.”
“And they genuflect when they see you coming.” Justin’s fingers drifted up into his wife’s hair and began toying with the strands.
It made Darcy realize she’d never seen her parents touch like that, so