What the Gambler Risks

by Kristina Knight

  “Shh,” she interrupted him. Listening to the flight attendant wasn’t her first choice, but it was better than listening to Jase talk about fate and destiny.

  “I just meant—”

  “Hush.” She pointed to the front of the cabin. “These are important safety notifications, we’re supposed to pay attention.”

  “No one listens to the takeoff instructions.”

  “Everyone should listen to the takeoff instructions.”

  “They haven’t changed in thirty-some years; I think we all know what to do in case of an emergency.”

  Of course everyone knew, but she didn’t want to talk about fate or destiny with the man whose body had made her melt just a few hours before. She put her finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet. Jase complied.

  Once the flight attendant finished her instructions about oxygen masks and proper seat-buckling procedure, Jase whispered, “Can we talk now, or should we look straight ahead until the fasten-seatbelt light has been deactivated?”

  “We don’t need to talk at all.” Sabrina put her headphones back on and turned on the music. This time, P!nk sang about second chances. Sabrina gritted her teeth. Why, oh why, was her favorite singer suddenly against her? She didn’t need to give Jase a second chance. She needed to prepare for the second leg of the book tour and leave this gambler in Atlantic City.

  “You know, we’re going to be stuck together on this plane for the next few hours. It might be nice if we knew the basics about one another.”

  “Or we could just take naps.” She knew her mistake as soon as the words passed her lips. Jase’s gaze turned wolfish.

  “I did have one of the best half nights of sleep I’ve had in months last night.”

  “That could have happened with any girl you picked up in the casino bar.”

  The plane began its ascent, and Sabrina’s back pressed against her seat.

  “Ah, but it happened with you, and now we’re sharing a flight to Vegas where we both live—”

  “Don’t go attaching meaning to a one-night stand,” she interrupted him before he could really get going. She caught the twinkle in his eye and realized he was teasing her. Sabrina narrowed her gaze. “You don’t believe in fate, either.”

  Jase shrugged. “I would say I believe in creating my own destiny, not accepting the destiny someone else sets out for me.”

  “So why all the fate and destiny talk?”

  “You’re kind of cute when you’re trying to think up reasons to be mad. Your nostrils flare a little, and you twist your hair around your finger.” Sabrina immediately dropped her hands into her lap. “And your eyes turn this burning emerald shade of green. Also, and this is going to land me on the wrong side of your doesn’t-believe-in-fate line, I thought if we kept talking, sooner or later, I’d learn your last name.”

  “You don’t need to know my last name.”

  “Maybe I just want to know it.”

  His voice seemed to whisper along her nerve endings, and Sabrina felt her heartbeat increase. This was silly. She might be in the market for a relationship, but not with a gambler like Jase. Gamblers played games, both in and out of casinos, and Sabrina was not up for playing games. If she were to do this, to really get back into the dating world, it would be with a man who had a solid job and similar interests and whose mere presence didn’t make her heart feel as if it might hammer out of her chest.

  Not that he had offered a relationship. She wasn’t sure what he was offering, but even if it was just a fling or a friends-with-benefits arrangement, she wasn’t interested.

  Gamblers were fickle and flaky and, in her experience, liked the idea of being in a relationship about as long as it took to win a hand of poker.

  The plane leveled out, and the fasten-seatbelts light dinged off. Sabrina cracked her jaw to clear her ears from the pressure of the climb.

  He was tempting. Giving him her last name, offering up her phone number, would mean probably seeing him again. Seeing him again would lead to another night of mind-blowing sex. She was in a good place in her life. On solid financial ground, with a career that was taking off. She knew who she was, and more importantly, she knew the kind of person she wanted to be.

  Jase Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was was no threat to her sense of being, whether he knew her last name or not.

  Still, the long line of gamblers Melinda had chased after marched through Sabrina’s mind. It was better to leave last night as a good memory and just move forward. Better for both of them.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, then turned up the volume on her iPod and focused her attention on the clouds outside her window.

  That was the decision the smart, capable, no-nonsense Sabrina she’d been before last night would have made.

  Sabrina settled into her seat, her shoulder sliding against Jase’s in the confined space.

  Suddenly, she didn’t like smart, capable, no-nonsense Sabrina so much.

  Chapter Four

  Jase grinned when Sabrina turned her head to look out the window. From the stiffness of her shoulders to the firm line of her jaw, her posture stated indifference to him, if not to the situation. But her fingers tapped against the armrest, and every few seconds her eyes would shift as if she were trying to see what he was doing. Or not doing, as the case might be. She couldn’t ignore him for the next—he checked his watch—six and a half hours. No one was that good at shutting another person out.

  He scrolled through his emails—one from each of his brothers and a few from his top game developers. He’d have to spend more time than he originally expected at the office this trip back to Vegas. Reeves Gaming, his arm of Reeves Brothers Entertainment, basically ran itself. He employed bright people, paid them well, and gave them the freedom to choose their working hours. Still, with the new prototypes set to arrive within the week, it would be good to spend time playing and tweaking before his meeting with the casino bosses.

  Jase checked his watch. Barely ten minutes had passed since she turned her attention to the window. What he wanted to do was talk to her. Maybe flirt a little bit. Find out her last name. Definitely get her number.

  Which was odd. She’d done him a favor by walking out of his hotel room sometime in the early morning hours, but instead of feeling relief, he was stuck on last night. The way she’d felt against him, under him, just a few hours before. The sounds she’d made. He was actually considering seeing her again—once he had that damn number—and that was absolutely the last thing he should do.

  Jase lived by rules, and one of them was to never let a one-night stand turn into two. Women started getting feelings after a couple of nights together, and Jase … didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt them, so he kept everything light. Easy. Casual. Seeing Sabrina No-Last-Name would definitely take things from light, easy, and casual, straight into deep conversation and feelings territory.

  He didn’t want feelings. Didn’t trust them, and didn’t want them. Feelings made people forget who they were. Feelings made people stupid. If his father had just shut Helena out all those years ago, maybe he would have kept a few more yearly checkups, and the doctors would have found the cancer sooner. Maybe he would have still been alive when Helena called that night. But Caleb was gone, and Jase was damned if he was going to chase after his mother the way his father had. He had two brothers to think about and a ranch he was responsible for, so he’d hung up on her.

  And she’d died. Alone on the side of the road. Jase was responsible for putting Helena on that road on that night in that storm. He was responsible for his mother’s death.

  So he should obey those tight shoulders and that determined jaw and spend the next six and a half hours with a few movies and a stiff drink, because if knowing Sabrina for less than twenty-four hours was bringing this much of his past into the present, he didn’t want to know what knowing her forty-eight hours might do.

  Those yellow-flecked, green eyes flicked in his direction again. Sabrina’s fingers tapped the
armrest of her seat. She wore a navy dress that tied at her waist, knee-high boots, and she’d pulled her hair into a ponytail that made his hands itch to release all that hair. He told himself to get his headphones and tune into the movie.

  “You staring at me for the next twenty-five hundred miles isn’t going to change my mind.”

  “Who said I was staring at you? I happen to like cloud formations.” Too bad they were above the formations, and everything just looked white and puffy.

  “You know, most men don’t seek out the women they’ve had a one-night stand with,” she said.

  “Being on the same flight isn’t the same as seeking you out.”

  She shifted slightly in her seat. “Choosing to sit in the empty seat next to me instead of any of the hundred other seats on this flight is.” Her gaze flicked to his, and he felt that rush of heat through his veins again.

  “Maybe I wanted another chance to beat you at cards.” He reached into his pocket to pull out the deck he carried everywhere. Sometimes he played solitaire with them, but mostly he shuffled them. He liked the sound of shuffling cards, liked the feel of a cool deck in his hands. Liked knowing he could play or put them down depending on his mood.

  Cards didn’t control him like they had controlled his mother and even his father. He controlled cards.

  She shot a glance at him, her gaze curious. “You want to play cards with me?”

  “Well, there are a few other ways we could spend the next six and a half hours, but this isn’t exactly a private plane.”

  She blushed, and Jase thought it was the cutest blush he’d ever seen. Her cheeks were tinted a nice pink, her eyes widened, and her mouth rounded into an O shape.

  “Just deal the cards,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “Seven-card stud, Texas hold ’em, or some other version?” he asked, shuffling the deck.

  “They’re all the same, aren’t they?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “The card shark who beat me three out of five games of hold ’em last night thinks seven-card is the same thing now?”

  “Well, every house has their own rules,” she said, shifting in her seat. Jase held the cards just above the tray table, and Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Fine, you can’t grow up in Vegas and not know how to play cards. Five-card stud is fine, no jokers and no wilds.”

  “Now that’s my kind of game.” He dealt them each five cards. “But, if you’d like, I could teach you some house rules later on.”

  “Casino rules are just fine, thank you.” She studied her cards and moved a couple around. She tapped one white-tipped nail against them. “I’ll take one,” she said and drew her lower lip into her teeth. “Just how many games fall under the poker banner?”

  Jase gave her a new card, dealt himself three, and ended up with a straight flush. Not a bad hand. “Fifteen or twenty, not counting games that players come up with outside the professional gambling arena. You’ve got your five-card games, then there are the specialty games like three-card Monte or spit in the ocean. Are you in, or are you out?”

  “I’m in. What are we playing for?”

  “Fun,” he said, and her eyebrows raised. “You thought I was going to say your name or number.” It wasn’t a question; he knew that’s what she expected, and that was why he didn’t ask for either. She was going to give him both, not lose one or the other in a game of poker.

  “Gamblers always have an agenda,” she said, and he could tell she was trying to figure him out.

  Good luck with that, sweetheart.

  “And sometimes, we just want to play.”

  “Maybe.” She considered the cards in her hand again, and Jase had a feeling she was also considering him. “I’m in.” She laid her cards on the little tray table. Four sevens and a ten of clubs. Not a bad hand. But his was better.

  Jase laid his cards on the tray. “Straight flush, seven to three, beats four of a kind.”

  “You are really good at this game.” She took the cards and began shuffling.

  “A lucky hand isn’t the same as being good at the game. Although I am a good player. In two-person poker, luck has more to do with winning than skill.”

  “Why is that?” She dealt the cards. Jase’s hand was all over the place. No sequences, all mismatched suits.

  “When more people play, it’s less about the cards in your hand than the cards in another player’s hands. How they react, their tells.”

  “What’s your tell? And do you want any cards?”

  “You never tell your tell. Actually, most people don’t even know their real tell.” Jase kept the ace of hearts and the ten, just in case, but gave her the other three. “Some guys can’t stop a little flare of excitement in their eyes, or they’ll sit up straighter in their chairs when they have a good hand. Some can’t stop an inadvertent sigh or biting a lip—like you’re doing right now. So I watch the players, and I’m betting on whether my four of a kind, for example, is better than whatever is making them sweat or smile or whatever.”

  Sabrina gave him three new cards. “You’ve known me less than a day, and you know my tell?”

  “It’s kind of my job.” Another ten and another ace. Two pair wasn’t bad, but her tell was gone. No lip between the teeth and no tapping of the cards. Which meant she probably held something better than two pair.

  “What’s the strangest tell you’ve played against?”

  Jase grinned and shook his head. “There was a guy in Thailand who whistled.”

  She beetled her brows. “That doesn’t sound way too obvious.”

  “It’s what he whistled. When he had good cards it was the Jaws theme. When he had nothing, it was Take Me Out To the Ballgame,” he said. “I’m calling it. Show me what you’ve got.”

  Sabrina turned over two kings and two nines. “Dang,” she said and narrowed her eyes. “Okay, we’re going again. Deal the cards. How did you know you’d be a good gambler?”

  He’d learned he was good at cards by watching his mother at their kitchen table. She would practice, pretending to play against the empty chairs. She would figure out her hand, place her bet, and then play the hands of her opponents. Almost every time, she made a bad bet. He was ten the first time he realized he knew what cards she held in her hands by the expression on her face. That was when he started playing. He convinced her to let him be her opponent by betting her that he could win. If he won, she had to stop playing cards.

  He did win. She never stopped playing, though, so did that make him a good gambler or a bad one?

  Jase wasn’t going to tell Sabrina any of that, though. “I don’t gamble, I play cards. Two different things, remember?”

  They played several more hands, and the more Sabrina played the better she became. Because he told her about the lip thing, he had to focus on her hands, which was more distracting than he would have liked. He kept seeing her nails against his skin rather than the backs of the cards.

  “Why is it not a good idea, me knowing your last name?” he asked, shuffling the cards. They’d been playing for more than a half hour, talking about different poker hands, the weather, and anything else unrelated to her name or phone number, but that wariness was still evident in her expression.

  She was quiet for so long he thought maybe he’d misread the signs. Her shoulders had loosened up some, but maybe all that stiffness still in her body wasn’t about keeping distance between them. Maybe the stiffness was her standard setting. It didn’t fit with what he’d experienced with her last night, but casinos had a way of making people do things they didn’t normally do.

  She didn’t wear a ring, and there was no telltale area of lighter skin where a ring might have been. She wasn’t married or recently divorced or separated. And she’d enjoyed last night as much as he, so it wasn’t that they were incompatible in the sex department. Why not exchange full names and numbers and see where things went?

  “Because I’m too busy for a relationship,” she said finally.

  “How is my knowing your
last name a relationship maker?” he asked, pretending he hadn’t just had a similar conversation with himself. He dealt five cards to each of them and watched her closely as she picked them up. No lip biting, no tapping fingers. Her foot began to tap against the floorboard, though, and she shifted so that her back pressed against the seat back. Interesting.

  She shot him a look and rolled her eyes. “Because last names come with other information, or serve as a way to get that information.” She put two cards on his tray table. “I’ll take two.”

  He gave her two new cards and traded out two of his own. He wanted a seven and a six but got two queens instead. Jase wanted to shake his head but kept his features carefully schooled and his posture relaxed in the small seat. “So your fear is that I’ll learn your last name and be so tempted by last night that I won’t be able to resist calling you until you give in to, say, having dinner with me?”

  She mumbled something under her breath that sounded a lot like, “It wouldn’t be the first time,” and then blew out a breath. “You know what I mean.” She put her cards on the tray table. Full house, aces high. Nice draw. He had two queens and some random low cards. Sabrina squealed. “I won!” The tension left her shoulders and pure joy laced her gaze.

  “Nice hand,” he said as she picked up the deck and began shuffling. Jase shrugged. “I knew I was good, but I didn’t realize I was irresistible.”

  Just like that, the tension snapped back into her shoulders, and her gaze turned weary. “You’re very resistible, I just don’t have time for all the phone calls.” She dealt the cards.

  “What if I promise not to call?” He couldn’t stop pushing. He knew it was stupid, but he wanted to know her name, all of it. Maybe if he had her last name, he’d be able to let her—and last night—fade into his memory. He picked up his cards, a straight, king through nine.

  “I’m not sure I should trust a gambler.” She turned to look at him. “How many do you want?”

  “I don’t want any cards.” Just her full name and number.

  She eyed him carefully. “You could be bluffing.”