by Nora Roberts
“Good job.”
“Better, I got the name of two lawyers and a doctor. The doctor’s supposed to be some miracle gynecologist. One of the lawyers was the manicurist’s cousin, and the other was supposed to have helped the sister-in-law of this lady getting a permanent to adopt two Romanian babies last year.”
“I believe I follow that,” Sebastian said after a moment.
“I figured we should check it out. Tomorrow I’m going to the health club. While they’re pummeling me, I can go through the routine.”
“There’s no law that says you can’t enjoy a sauna and massage while you’re at it.”
She hesitated, and was grateful that the roomy pockets of the evening pants made a home for her hands. “It makes me feel … I know you’re putting a lot of your money into this.”
“I have plenty.” He tipped a finger under her chin. “If I didn’t want to use it this way, I wouldn’t. I remember how Rose looked when you brought her to me, Mel. And I remember Mrs. Frost. We’re in this together.”
“I know.” She curled her fingers around his wrist. “I should be thanking you instead of complaining.”
“But you complain so well.” When she grinned, he kissed her. “Come on, Sutherland. Let’s gamble. I’m feeling lucky.”
* * *
The Silver Palace was one of Tahoe’s newest and most opulent hotel casinos. White swans glided in the silvery waters of the lobby pool, and man-size urns exploded with exotic flowers. The staff was dressed in spiffy tuxedos with trademark silver ties and cummerbunds.
They passed a number of elegant shops displaying everything from diamonds and furs to T-shirts. Mel figured they’d aligned them close enough to the casino to tempt any winners to put their money back into the hotel.
The casino itself was crowded with sound, the chink-chink of coins pouring out of slots echoing from the high ceilings. There was the hubbub of voices, the clatter of the roulette wheels, the smell of smoke and liquor and perfumes. And, of course, of money.
“Some joint,” Mel commented, taking a gander at the knights and fair ladies painted on the windowless walls.
“What’s your game?”
She shrugged. “They’re all sucker’s games. Trying to win against the house is like trying to row upstream with one oar. You might make some progress, but the current’s going to carry you down sooner or later.”
He nipped lightly at her ear. “You’re not here to be practical. We’re on our second honeymoon, remember? Sweetie pie?”
“Yuck,” she said distinctly through a bright, loving smile. “Okay, let’s buy some chips.”
She opted to start off with the slots, deciding they were mindless enough to allow her to play while still absorbing her surroundings. They were there to make contact with Jasper Gumm, the man who’d held Parkland’s IOU. Mel was well aware it could take several nights to reach that next step.
She lost steadily, then won back a few dollars, automatically feeding the coins back into the machine. She found there was something oddly appealing about the whoosh and jingle, the occasional squeal from another player, the bells and lights that rang and flashed when someone hit the jackpot.
It was relaxing, she realized, and tossed a smile over her shoulder to Sebastian. “I don’t guess the house has to worry about me breaking the bank.”
“Perhaps if you went at it less … aggressively.” He put a hand over hers as she pulled the lever. Lights whirled. Bells clanged.
“Oh!” Her eyes went huge as coins began to shoot into the basket. “Oh, wow! That’s five hundred!” She did a little dance, then threw her arms around him. “I won five hundred dollars.” She gave him a big, smacking kiss, then froze with her mouth an inch from his. “Oh, God, Donovan, you cheated.”
“What a thing to say. Outwitting a machine isn’t cheating.” He could see her sense of fair play warring with her elation. “Come on, you can lose it back at blackjack.”
“I guess it’s okay. It’s for a higher cause.”
“Absolutely.”
Laughing, she began to scoop the coins into the bucket beside the machine. “I like to win.”
“So do I.”
They scoped out the tables, sipping champagne and playing the part of an affectionate couple on a night out. She tried not to take it too seriously, the attention he paid her, the fact that his hand was always there when she reached for it.
They were lovers, yes, but they weren’t in love. They cared for and respected each other—but that was a long way from happily-ever-after. The ring on her finger was only a prop, the house they shared only a cover.
One day she would have to give the ring back and move out of the house. They might continue to see each other, at least for a time. Until his work and hers took them in different directions.
People didn’t last in her life. She’d come to accept that. Or always had before. Now, when she thought of heading off in that different direction alone, without him, there was an emptiness inside her that was almost unbearable.
“What is it?” Instinctively he put a hand at the base of her neck to rub. “You’re tensing up.”
“Nothing. Nothing.” Even with the rule about him not looking into her mind, he was much too perceptive. “I guess I’m impatient to move. Let’s try this table. See what happens.”
He didn’t press, though he was quite certain that something more than the case was troubling her. When they took their seats at a five-dollar table, he slipped an arm around her shoulders so that they played the cards together.
She played well, he noted, her practical nature and quick wits keeping her even with the house for the first hour. He could see by the casual way she scanned the room that she was taking everything in. The security guards, the cameras, the two-way glass on the second level.
Sebastian ordered more champagne and began to do his own probing.
The man next to him was sweating over a seventeen and worrying that his wife suspected he was having an affair. His wife sat next to him, chain-smoking and trying to imagine how the dealer would look naked.
Sebastian fastidiously left her to it.
Next to Mel was a cowboy type tossing back bourbon and branch water while he won at a slow but steady pace. His mind was a jumble of thoughts about treasury bonds, livestock, and the spread of cards. He was also wishing that the little filly beside him had come to the table alone.
Sebastian smiled to himself, wondering how Mel would feel about being called a little filly.
As he mentally roamed the table, Sebastian got impressions of boredom, excitement, desperation, and greed. He found what he wanted in the young couple directly across from him.
They were from Columbus, on the third night of their honeymoon. They were barely old enough to be at the tables, they were deliriously in love, and they had decided, after much calculation, that the excitement of gambling was worth the hundred-dollar stake.
They were down to fifty now, and they were having the time of their lives.
Sebastian saw the husband—Jerry was his name—hesitating over hitting fifteen. He gave him a little push. Jerry signaled for another card and went pop-eyed when he pulled a six.
With a subtle and enjoyable magic, Sebastian had young Jerry doubling his stake, then tripling it, while the young couple gasped and giggled over their astonishing luck.
“They’re sure raking it in,” Mel commented.
“Mmm.” Sebastian sipped his wine.
Oblivious to the gentle persuasion, Jerry began to up his bets. Word spread, as it does in such places, that there was a winner at table three. People began to mill around, applauding and slapping the baffled Jerry on the shoulder as his winnings piled up.
“Oh, Jerry!” His new wife, Karen, clung to him. “Maybe we should stop. It’s almost enough for a down payment on a house. Maybe we should just stop.”
Sorry, Sebastian thought, and gave her a little mental nudge.
Karen bit her lip. “No. Keep going.” She buried her face
against his shoulder and laughed. “It’s like magic.”
The comment had Mel looking up from her own cards and sending Sebastian a narrow-eyed look. “Donovan.”
“Shh.” He patted her hand. “I have my reasons.”
Mel began to understand them as the nearly delirious Jerry hovered at the ten-thousand-dollar mark. A husky man in a tuxedo approached the table. He had a dignified bearing to go with smoothly tanned skin, a sun-tipped mustache and expertly styled hair. Mel was certain he was the kind of man most women would look at more than twice.
But she took an instant dislike to his eyes. They were pale blue, and, though they were smiling, she felt a quick chill race up her spine.
“Bad business,” she muttered, and felt Sebastian’s hand close over hers.
The crowd that had gathered cheered again as the dealer lost to Jerry on nineteen.
“This seems to be your lucky night.”
“Boy, I’ll say.” Jerry looked up at the newcomer with dazed eyes. “I’ve never won anything before in my life.”
“Are you staying at the hotel?”
“Yeah. Me and my wife.” He gave Karen a squeeze. “This is the first night we tried the tables.”
“Then allow me to congratulate you personally. I’m Jasper Gumm. This is my hotel.”
Mel slanted Sebastian a look. “Pretty sneaky way to get a look at him.”
“A roundabout route,” he agreed. “But an enjoyable one.”
“Hmm … Have your young hero and heroine finished for the evening?”
“Oh, yes, they’re quite finished.”
“Excuse me a minute.” Taking her glass, Mel got up to stroll around the table. Sebastian had been right. The young couple were already making noises about cashing in and were busily thanking Gumm.
“Be sure to come back,” Gumm told them. “We like to think that everyone at the Silver Palace walks away a winner.”
When Gumm turned, Mel made certain she was directly in his path. A quick movement, and her champagne splattered.
“Oh, I beg your pardon.” She brushed at his damp sleeve. “How clumsy of me.”
“Not at all. It was my fault.” Easing away from the dispersing crowd, he took out a handkerchief to dry her hand. “I’m afraid I was distracted.” He glanced at her empty glass. “And I owe you a drink.”
“No, that’s kind of you, but it was nearly empty.” She flashed him a smile. “Fortunately for your suit. I suppose I was a little curious about all those chips. My husband and I were across the table from that young couple. And not having nearly their luck.”
“Then I definitely owe you a drink.” Gumm took her arm just as Sebastian walked up.
“Darling, you’re supposed to drink the champagne, not pour it on people.”
As if she were flustered, she laughed and ran a hand down his arm. “I’ve already apologized.”
“No harm done,” Gumm assured them as he offered Sebastian a hand. “Jasper Gumm.”
“Donovan Ryan. My wife, Mary Ellen.”
“A pleasure. Are you guests of the hotel?”
“No, actually, we’ve just moved to Tahoe.” Sebastian sent an affectionate glance to Mel. “We’re taking a few days as a kind of second honeymoon before we get back to business.”
“Welcome to the community. Now I definitely must replace that champagne.” He signaled to a roving waitress.
“It’s very kind of you.” Mel glanced around approvingly. “You have a wonderful place here.”
“Now that we’re neighbors, I hope you’ll enjoy the facilities. We have an excellent dining room.” As he spoke, Gumm took stock. The woman’s jewelry was discreet and expensive. The man’s dinner suit was expertly tailored. Both of them showed the panache of quiet affluence. Just the type of clientele he preferred.
When the waitress returned with a fresh bottle and glasses, Gumm poured the wine himself. “What business are you in, Mr. Donovan?”
“Real estate. Mary Ellen and I spent the last few years in Seattle, and we decided it was time for a change. My business allows me to be flexible.”
“And yours?” Gumm asked Mel.
“I’ve put my career on hold, at least for a while. I thought I’d like keeping a home.”
“Ah, and children.”
“No.” Her smile wobbled as she looked down at her glass. “No, not yet. But I think the weather here, the sun, the lake … would be a wonderful place to raise a family.” There was a trace, just a hint, of desperation in her voice.
“I’m sure. Please enjoy the Silver Palace. Don’t be strangers.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be back,” Sebastian assured him. “Nicely done,” he murmured to Mel when they were alone.
“I thought so. Do you think we should go back to the tables for a while or just wander about looking moon-eyed at each other?”
He chuckled, started to pull her close for a kiss, then stopped, his hand on her shoulder. “Well, well … sometimes things just fall neatly into place.”
“What?”
“Drink your champagne, my love, and smile.” He turned her gently, keeping his arm around her as they wandered toward the roulette table. “Now look over there, to the woman Gumm is speaking with. The redhead by the staircase.”
“I see her.” Mel leaned her head against Sebastian’s shoulder. “Five-five, a hundred and ten, light complexion. Twenty-eight, maybe thirty years old.”
“Her name’s Linda—or it is now. It was Susan when she checked into the motel with David.”
“She’s—” Mel nearly took a step forward before she stopped herself. “What’s she doing here?”
“Sleeping with Gumm, I imagine. Waiting for the next job.”
“We have to find out how much they know. How close they are to the top.” Grimly she finished off the champagne. “You work your way, I’ll work mine.”
“Agreed.”
When Mel saw that Linda was heading for the ladies’ lounge, she shoved her empty glass into Sebastian’s hand. “Hold this.”
“Of course, darling,” he murmured to her retreating back.
Mel bided her time, sitting at one of the curvy dressing tables, freshening her lipstick, powdering her nose. When Linda sat at the table next to hers, she began the process all over again.
“Shoot,” Mel said in disgust, examining her fingers. “I chipped a nail.”
Linda sent her a sympathetic glance. “Don’t you hate that?”
“I’ll say, especially since I just had them done this morning. I have the worst luck with them.” She searched through her bag for the nail file she knew wasn’t there. “Your nails are gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” The redhead held up a hand to examine. “I have a marvelous manicurist.”
“Do you?” Mel shifted and crossed her legs. “I wonder … My husband and I just moved here from Seattle. I really need to find the right beautician, health club, that sort of thing.”
“You can’t do better than right here at the hotel for either. Nonguest membership fees for the health club are a bit pricey, but believe me, it’s well worth it.” She fluffed at her luxuriant mane. “And the beauty shop is top-notch.”
“I appreciate that. I’ll look into it.”
“Just tell them Linda sent you, Linda Glass.”
“I will,” Mel said as she rose. “Thanks a lot.”
“No problem.” Linda slicked on lip gloss. If the woman joined the club, she thought, she’d get a nice commission. Business was business.
* * *
A few hours later, Mel was flopped on her stomach in the center of the bed, making a list. She wore a baggy pajama top, her favored lounging choice, and had already disarranged her sleek coiffure into tousled spikes with restless fingers.
She’d be using the Silver Palace’s facilities, all right, she thought. Starting tomorrow, she would join their health club, check out their beauty parlor. And, Lord help her, make an appointment for a facial, or whatever other torture they had in mind.
/> With any luck, she could be cozied up to Linda Glass and exchanging girl talk within twenty-four hours.
“What are you up to, Sutherland?”
“Plan B,” she said absently. “I like to have a plan B in reserve in case plan A bombs. Do you think leg waxing hurts?”
“I wouldn’t hazard a guess.” He ran a fingertip down her calf. “However, yours feel smooth enough to me.”
“Well, I have to be prepared to spend half my day in this place, so I have to have something for them to do to me.” She cocked her head to look up at him. He was standing beside the bed, wearing the bottoms of the baggy pajamas and swirling a brandy.
I guess we look like a unit, she thought. Like an actual couple having a little chat before bedtime.
The idea had her doodling on the pad. “Do you really like that stuff?”
“Which stuff?”
“That brandy. It always tastes like medicine to me.”
“Perhaps you’ve never had the right kind.” He handed her the snifter. Mel braced up on her elbows to sample it while he straddled her and sat back on his heels. “You’re still tense,” he commented, and began to rub her shoulders.
“A little wired, maybe. I guess I’m starting to think this really may work—the job, I mean.”
“It’s going to work. While you’re having your incredibly long and lovely legs waxed, I’m going to be playing golf—at the same club Gumm belongs to.”
Far from convinced the brandy had anything going for it, she looked back over her shoulder. “Then we’ll see who finds out more, won’t we?”
“We will indeed.”
“There’s this spot on my shoulder blade.” She arched like a cat. “Yeah, that’s it. I wanted to ask you about that couple tonight. The big winners.”
“What about them?” He pushed the shirt up out of his way and pleased himself by exploring the long, narrow span of her back.
“I know it was your way of getting Gumm to the table, but it doesn’t seem exactly straight, you know? Making him win ten thousand.”
“I merely influenced his decisions. And I imagine Gumm’s taken in much more than that by selling children.”
“Yeah, yeah, and I can sort of see the justice in that. But that couple—what if they try to do it again and lose their shirts? Maybe they won’t be able to stop, and—”
He chuckled, pressing his lips to the center of her back. “I’m more subtle than that. Young Jerry and Karen will put a down payment on a nice house in the suburbs, astonish their friends with their good fortune. They’ll both agree that they’ve used up all of their luck on this one shot, and rarely gamble again. They’ll have three children. And they’ll have a spot of fairly serious marital trouble in their sixth year, but they’ll work it out.”
“Well.” Mel wondered if she’d ever get used to it. “In that case.”
“In that case,” he murmured, running his lips down her spine. “Why don’t you put it out of your mind and concentrate on me?”
Smiling to herself, she set the brandy on the chest at the foot of the bed. “Maybe I could.” She flipped, then twisted, getting a solid grip before shoving him back on the bed. With her hands clamped on his, she leaned down until they were nose-to-nose. “Gotcha.”
He grinned, then nipped her lower lip. “Yes, you do.”
“And I might just keep you a while.” She kissed the tip of his nose, then his cheek, his chin, his lips. “The brandy tastes better on you than it does in the glass.”
“Try again, just to be sure.”