by Aleah Barley
And then sex?
Daisy wanted to object, but Ryan’s voice hadn’t left any room for argument. She collected her pajamas and went into the bathroom. Her hands fumbled as she folded Ryan’s jacket and left it on the side of the sink.
When she got out, Ryan was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing a pair of royal-blue boxer briefs and nothing else.
Damn. Her mouth watered. She wanted to trace the lines of his chest with her tongue until he came shuddering beneath her touch. She wanted to follow the line of golden hair down across his chest, shove those briefs down, and swallow him whole. She’d never given a man a blowjob before. It had always seemed messy and distasteful and—anyway—it wasn’t something generally done on first dates, right? But she desperately wanted to give Ryan a blowjob.
“Your brain’s whirring.” Ryan pulled the covers back on the bed. “Tell me you’re not trying to work out some math problem.”
“Just trying to decide what I want to do first.”
“You think too much.” He climbed into the bed. “Let me take care of everything tonight.”
It should have sounded like a challenge. But then Ryan smiled at her and Daisy didn’t care. She walked over and got underneath the covers with him.
Now there’d be kissing.
And sex.
She was really looking forward to the sex.
But, instead, Ryan tucked her body up against his and ran his fingers through her hair. “You smell like perfume.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s fine.” His head bent and he nuzzled the back of her neck. “You usually smell like oranges. Is that perfume?”
“My shampoo.” Daisy frowned. “I can change it if you want. The hotel has free shampoo.” It wouldn’t kill her to use something else for the next few days.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” His hands never stopped moving, petting her tired muscles through the pajamas, stroking her worries away. “I love the way you usually smell, like fresh-squeezed orange juice and Sunday mornings.”
This might be the weirdest conversation Daisy had ever participated in. “I’ve never had fresh-squeezed orange juice.”
“I’ll make it for you.”
“Right.” She tilted her head backward, trying to see him in the flickering lights coming from the Strip. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “Are we going to have sex?”
“Not tonight.”
“Because I smell like perfume?”
Ryan chuckled. “Because you’ve had a hard day. It wouldn’t feel right.”
That was okay. Daisy had gone to all the standard lectures in undergrad. Sex was more than just penis-in-vagina. It was about trust and intimacy. Maybe she’d get to give him that blowjob after all.
She waited a long moment. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to sleep.” His lips fluttered against her neck. “And I’m going to hold you all night long.”
It was the most intimate thing Daisy had ever done.
Chapter Fourteen
Daisy woke up in a pile of warm blankets and body parts. Ryan was wrapped almost entirely around her. His breath was hot against the back of her neck, his body tight against her back with his morning wood pressed against her ass.
Snuggling back into his arms and getting a few more hours’ sleep sounded like a good idea—so did waking him up and seeing what she could do about that erection—but she’d promised Bullet they’d grab breakfast. So, she wriggled out from between Ryan’s arms, grabbed some clothes, and headed to the bathroom for a shower.
Twenty minutes later, she was standing in the casino manager’s office, hands wrapped tightly around a hot cup of coffee. “This is nice.” She took a sip, examining the room’s clean lines and carefully chosen furniture. There was a big wooden desk, some guest chairs, and a seating area with an oversize leather couch. It was a little old-school, but that just made it seem like it fit Bullet even better. “It’s bigger than your place at the Rollio.”
“Bigger office, nicer poker tables, less stress—at least, it was supposed to be.” Bullet was sitting behind a massive desk, going over the morning’s paperwork. “I’m getting old. The Rollio’s a major enterprise. This place? It’s nice—the new owner did good with the restoration and bringing me in to manage—but it’s never going to compete with Caesar’s.” His head cocked to the side as he rattled off the Hendrix’s specifics, “The poker tables, a little lounge theatre, some slot machines, two restaurants, and a hotel.”
“This your idea of an easy retirement?”
“It’s still a casino.” The big man shrugged, and for the first time since she’d met him, he actually looked his age. “I never thought it’d be a cakewalk, but this mess with the poker tables… You look at the books?”
Daisy had gone over every piece of data Bullet had given her. Twice. It hadn’t amounted to much except a certainty that Bullet had been right. The house’s take was off. Sometimes it was too low, sometimes it was too high—that was the law of averages—but the swings were too sharp. The lows were too low and the highs…
She glanced down at the coffee in her hand. “You think about bringing the law in on this, Bullet?”
“The police?” Bullet shook his head.
“How about the FBI?”
That earned her a genuine laugh. “You ever talk to any of those feebies, baby doll? The only time the stick comes out of their ass is when they’re beating you with it.”
It was the response she’d expected, but still… “Not all of them are like that.” Ryan didn’t have a stick up his ass. She would have noticed. “They could help.”
“You know I like to solve my own problems.”
“Right.” She sighed. “I’ll figure out what’s going on—it’s just a matter of time. I won’t let you down.”
“Never thought you would.” There was a long pause. “Almost feels like an inside job, you know? Have you been watching the dealers?”
“Every chance I get.”
“Not too distracted by that punk next door?” There was a long pause. Bullet wasn’t looking at his paperwork anymore. He was staring straight at her, almost as if he could see into her soul. “You spent the night with him—even after we talked.”
Her grip tightened on her coffee cup. “You watching me, Bullet?”
“Just keeping an eye on my best girl.”
It should have made her angry, but she knew Bullet worried about her. Daisy nodded. “He wasn’t cheating on me. The woman. She’s—” His boss. But Bullet had made his opinion on FBI agents clear. “She’s just a friend.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“I believe him.” There was a long pause. “I took him out to Desert Pines last night.”
“No shit.” He leaned back in his seat, the big bad gangster stunned by her small admission. “You been back there since your mom died?”
“Not until last night.” She put her cup down on the edge of Bullet’s desk before she broke it. “I told him about Tony. I wanted him to understand why a relationship—why it’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible, doll,” Bullet said. “Not if you want it bad enough.”
Her mind spun as she thought about Ryan upstairs in her bed, limbs spread wide, like a fallen angel with a devil’s smile. She wanted him so damn bad.
Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “I’ve been wanting things all my life. It hasn’t helped me much.”
“Because you’re not willing to take a risk.”
Damn straight. Daisy wasn’t a gambler. She was a mathematician. She didn’t take risks; she played the odds. But Ryan… “Today’s the last full day of play, then there’s the final round tomorrow. After that, we’re both going our own ways.”
“Sure thing.” Bullet nodded. “Just want you to know, if he breaks your heart, I’ll break his legs. I’ve still got my baseball bat—had to use it on some guy bothering Lily last month.”
That explained why her sister had been acting weird, but t
he last thing Daisy wanted to see was Ryan get hurt. She smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about me, Bullet. I can take care of myself.”
“That’s why I worry.”
“Yeah.” She checked her watch. It was almost time to head down to the poker tables. “I’ve got to get ready to play. You coming?”
“I’m busy.” Bullet nodded toward the paperwork. “You win this one for me, doll?”
“I’ll try.”
For the second morning in a row, Ryan woke up in Daisy’s bed alone. He lifted his head, searching the hotel room for a pint-size woman with a full-size attitude.
No such luck.
The night before had been intense.
Ryan wasn’t commitment phobic—thank God—but it would have made a lesser man turn tail and run. Instead, he’d climbed into bed desperate to give Daisy exactly what she needed, even if it was something she couldn’t ask for.
Now this.
His teeth ground together. He knew he should be grateful for some time to get his head on straight, but he couldn’t help but worry about Daisy out there in the casino. If anything happened to her…
Brring. Brrrrrring. His phone jolted to life beside him. He picked it up and answered without looking at the display. “What do you want, Stephanie?”
“Not Stephanie,” Jack chortled through tinny speakers. “You feeling okay? You sound sleepy.”
“I’m fine.” Ryan glanced at the clock by his bed. Shit. He had forty minutes to shower, change, and get downstairs for the first round of play. “What about you? Have another kid yet?”
“Working on it.” Jack laughed. “You propose to the professor?”
Hell. Ryan rolled his eyes. “I don’t propose to every woman I go out with.”
“How long have we known each other?”
Ryan did some quick math in his head. “Six years?”
“And how many women have you dated?”
“Tons.” He wasn’t a slut, but he seldom turned down a good time or a sure thing. “I’ve got plenty—”
“Not slept with,” Jack interrupted. “How many women have you dated past a month?”
“Carla and Ashley.”
“Right, and you proposed to both of them.” His ex-partner chuckled. “For a guy who spends most of his time on the road, you’re desperate for a wife and kids.”
Kids. Ryan’s gut churned at the thought. A boy he could take fishing and a girl he could tuck into bed every night, smoothing her inky black curls as he read her a story. Hell, he wasn’t sexist. He’d take them both fishing.
Only…
“Daisy doesn’t want a relationship.” And even if she did, there was no reason to think she’d want him. The woman had two PhDs and a body that wouldn’t quit. She could have any guy she wanted.
There was no way she’d stick around for some half-baked FBI agent with a bullet hole in his shoulder. None of his exes ever had.
He stood and grabbed at his pants, tugging them on over his legs.
“So you haven’t slept with her?” Jack asked.
There was a long pause.
“You slept with her and then she turned you down?” Jack whistled. “Shit, I’ll be best man at your wedding. It needs to be soon, though. Linda hates going to formal events when she’s pregnant. She always says it makes her feel like a heifer.”
Ryan almost hung up on his friend right there. “Daisy’s just helping me with a case.”
“How come I never got that kind of help when I was single?”
“Because you’re a lanky jackass and the only woman who’d ever put up with you is your wife?”
“Jealous?”
Fuck, yes. Ryan closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Everything okay at the house? You need help when I get back? I could take Linda dancing. Take the kids to the zoo.”
Jack’s laughter died. “I’m fine, asshole. I can’t move my legs but the rest still works fine. I don’t need you to entertain my kids or my wife.”
“Just checking to make sure.” Ryan tugged his shirt on over his head. “Why’d you call?”
“You’re still working on the Morelli case?”
“You think I’m going to give it up after what the man did to you?”
“It’d be the smart play.” There was a long pause. “You’re emotionally invested, Ryan. That means you’re not going to be playing things safe. It puts you—and the professor—in danger.”
“Fuck.” After what had happened to Jack, the last thing he wanted to do was get someone else shot because of his investigation. Especially Daisy. If anything happened to her…his heart would freaking break.
It didn’t matter.
Ryan took a deep breath, pushing the emotion down. “I’m not even in New York. I’m in Las Vegas, sitting on the accountant—Blethins.”
“Right.” There was a long pause. “I’m on leave, but I’ve still got friends in the Bureau. They tell me things, especially about Morelli. Word around the water cooler is Morelli’s getting anxious. He’s heard that he’s still under investigation, and he’s tying up loose ends. You don’t want to be a loose end. He might be in jail, but he’s still got friends on the outside who’d be more than happy to kill a rascally FBI agent. Stephanie might have to pull you out of the field. She’ll bench you for the rest of the tournament—ship your ass back to New York.”
“Like hell.” He wasn’t giving up the assignment, not now when he’d worked so damn hard.
“I’m just warning you, Ryan.” There was a long pause. “Watch out for yourself?”
“Don’t worry, Dad.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’ll watch my back as long as you watch yours. You got protection at your place?”
“Mr. Colt and his buddies Smith and Wesson.”
“Good to know.” Ryan frowned. Should he be carrying his gun around? No, it would cause him more problems than it would solve. Besides, he was watching an accountant, not sitting in front of Morelli’s house with a long-range camera.
This assignment was practically a vacation.
Except Blethins was nobody’s idea of a cabana boy.
He glanced at the clock. Twenty-five minutes to go. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Can a bear piss in the woods?”
“Pretty sure a bear can piss wherever he wants.” Ryan laughed. “I want you to take a look at Blethins’s file. He bothers me. He’s just an accountant, but the man’s cold. I’ve talked to him three times and I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t know my name.”
“Maybe it’s your personality.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “This is what I do for a living.”
“True,” Jack said. “I’ll get the file and email you my thoughts.” The familiar click-clack of computer keys sounded in the background. “Give my love to your girl.”
“Asshole.” Ryan turned off the phone and stuck it in his pocket. Then he headed back to his room to clean up before the tournament.
A couple games of poker sounded like just what he needed to clear his head.
And then?
Daisy. His lips tipped up into a smile at the thought. He’d been a gentleman the night before—holding her when she needed it—but he didn’t feel particularly gentlemanly at the moment. When he got her back to the room tonight, he was going to suck her, fuck her, and make sure she never left him alone in bed again.
Chapter Fifteen
The tournament had been fun enough for the first few days, but now it was grueling. Daisy put her cards on the table, going through the motions, but she’d lost any real interest in the game earlier. Now, she just wanted to finish things up and get back to her room.
With Ryan.
Fire danced across her exposed nerves. Her palms suddenly felt sweaty. She’d never looked forward to seeing a man this much in her entire life. If they were only going to have one more night together—two if she could convince him to stay after the final game tomorrow—then she wanted to make the most of it.
Her head twisted slightly as she searched the crowd for his fami
liar blond locks. There he was, playing in the corner. His eyes barely glanced over his cards. He was too busy watching his opponents, searching for tells.
What had he called her? A machine. Like one of the video poker games over in the slot parlor.
A pile of chips slid in front of Daisy, clinking and clacking happily. She reached out to stroke the weighted ceramic. The action was nice and reassuring. She wasn’t a machine. She was just a damn good poker player.
She went back to the game.
An hour later, it was over. The tournament was done for the night. She’d won her game—in a flurry of angry words from a Florida retiree—and she’d made it to the final round.
Tomorrow was the last game. Six players, one table, and a whole lot of attention.
It was going to be a televised event, starting at two o’clock. And then it would be over. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Daisy stood up, swaying slightly as her knees cried out after being stuck so long in one of the Hendrix’s small chairs. Fuck. Sitting around shouldn’t feel so much like work. Her head turned slightly and she searched the crowd for Ryan.
There—near the back—his head was held up high. His back was turned toward her. He was talking to someone.
A tall blonde in a tight dress.
Daisy’s heart slammed into her chest as she recognized the woman from the first day.
She was just his boss.
It didn’t mean anything.
So why the hell were the two of them standing so close? And why was Stephanie leaning into his arms?
Daisy picked her way carefully through the crowd, trying to get close without drawing any attention to her movements. Close up, the two didn’t look quite as much like a couple.
Ryan looked pissed.
His entire body was tight with repressed energy. His hands were balled into fists. Biceps pulled under his rich red T-shirt. In another minute, there was a chance he’d hulk out and the piece of clothing would be a scrap of cloth on the ground.
It was an amusing thought, right up until the moment when Stephanie leaned forward to murmur something quietly in his ear. Her fingers curled into Ryan’s arm.