by Lori Wilde
“It had better be.”
The Wedding Bet
Janet Dailey
Chapter One
Packed in its open box, the bottle of twenty-three-year reserve Pappy Van Winkle bourbon stood on proud display among the coed bridal shower gifts. A short, stocky man in a plaid shirt, high-end jeans, and a silver longhorn bolo was staring at it as if it were the Holy Grail.
“Man, I’d kill for a shot of that!” he said to Linc, who was passing on his way to the buffet. “Whoever brought it, they must think a powerful lot of Ellie and Brady.”
Linc stopped out of politeness. “Actually, I just met the bride. But Brady’s my first cousin on his father’s side. We go way back. In fact . . .” His mouth twitched in an ironic half smile. “It was Brady who introduced me to my ex-wife. So in a twisted sort of way, I owe him.”
“Hot damn! So you’re the one who brought the bourbon! Pleased to meet you!” He pumped Linc’s hand. “Chet Bertelson. I’m Brady’s cousin on his mama’s side. That makes us practically kinfolk.”
“Lincoln Cutwright. Pleased to meet you.” Linc returned the handshake. He was about to ease away, but Chet wasn’t finished.
“I’ve heard of you. You’re the one who’s got that big spread in Kentucky. Brady says you raise Thoroughbreds on it. Now that would be the life.” He nodded toward the bourbon. “I bet you’ve got a few more of those bottles stashed away in your wine cellar.”
“A few.” There was actually just one left. Twenty-three-year reserve Pappy Van Winkle was liquid gold, as precious as it was scarce. A single bottle had recently fetched two thousand dollars at auction.
Chet was gazing at the bourbon, as if lost in thought. Linc was about to excuse himself and walk away when he spoke again. “Brady says you’re a betting man.”
This was getting personal. Linc shrugged. “What else does Brady say?”
“That you’ve got quite a way with the ladies.”
“Maybe when I was younger. But I’m out of practice these days. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“How would you like to make a little wager?”
Linc halted in his tracks, intrigued. Nobody could call him a compulsive gambler, but he loved the challenge of a sporting bet. Tracy, his ex, had claimed he’d wager his soul against the devil if given the chance. That was just one of the issues that had split them apart.
For all he knew, this mildly annoying fellow could be the devil in disguise.
“And the stakes?” he asked.
“My partners and I own the best rib house in Austin. Ask anybody. Folks line up around the block every weekend to buy our ribs before the supply runs out. If you win, I’ll put up all the ribs you want for a year, shipped anywhere in the country.”
“And if I lose?”
“A bottle of Pappy Van Winkle, just like that one.” So far, so good. The stakes were just high enough to provide the rush Linc craved. “So what are we betting on?” he asked.
“That you can’t bed a certain lady before the two lovebirds leave on their honeymoon.”
Was this a joke? Linc shook his head. “Sorry. I like the stakes, but I don’t make bets involving beds and women. Too many complications.”
“Don’t you even want to know the lady I have in mind?” Chet glanced toward the door with a wicked smile. “Right over there in the black shirt. She just walked in.”
Linc followed the line of the man’s gaze across the crowded room. He blinked, groaned, and swore.
He hadn’t seen his ex-wife in five years. But damned if Tracy didn’t look sexier than ever. Flame-colored hair, sea-green eyes, and a figure that rocked the tight jeans and silk blouse she wore. Tracy was, and always had been, a traffic stopper. And as far as Linc knew, she still couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“So, do you want to change your mind?” Chet asked.
“Change my mind? Hell, I’d rather take on a man-eating tigress. Sorry, no bet.”
“Too bad. Your loss.” Chet raised his hand and gave her a friendly wave across the crowded room. Tracy waved back and turned away. Of course the two would know each other. Chet was Brady’s cousin. Tracy was Brady’s longtime friend. Their paths were bound to have crossed. But why would the little jerk have tried to set up that crazy bet—unless he knew for sure Tracy would never sleep with her ex?
He must’ve really wanted that bourbon.
Ignoring Chet for now, Linc watched his ex-wife weave her way among the crowd, stopping here and there to greet people she knew. She had a model’s elegant stride and leggy figure—in fact, she’d been modeling when he met her. But Linc knew she’d used the divorce settlement to put herself through law school. Now, according to Brady, she was a trial lawyer with a kick-ass reputation. In her spare time she also did pro bono work for the underprivileged.
Saint Tracy. Some things never changed.
Was she coming this way? His pulse quickened, then slowed again as she veered off toward the sign that said “Waterin’ Hole,” where a big tub of ice held beer, water, sodas, and wine coolers. Either she hadn’t noticed he was here or she’d chosen to ignore him.
Either way he would have to do something about that.
Linc hadn’t planned to be here. But when Brady had mentioned over the phone that Tracy was on the guest list, he’d made a snap decision and caught a flight from Lexington. He and Tracy had unfinished business. Why not take this chance to settle it in person?
* * *
Tracy Duval fished a Mountain Dew from the tub, popped the tab, and took a long, deep swallow. She’d spent most of her Saturday doing legal assistance at a local women’s shelter. At the end of the day she’d barely had time to run home to her condo, change, and make it to Brady’s shower. Thank goodness she’d sent her gift early. One less thing to worry about.
Only now that she was here had Tracy realized how tired she was. The party looked like fun, but after a frenetic week, all she really wanted to do was go home and unwind. She would greet the wedding couple, say hello to a few friends, and sneak out early. Watching mindless TV in her pajamas struck her as a perfect way to end the evening.
Whoever was giving this party had done a great job. The folksy western theme was perfect for Brady and his bride. Tracy had barely met Ellie, but she seemed sweet and genuine. And the two appeared deeply in love.
Seeing them together, Tracy couldn’t help remembering her own wedding eight years ago. She’d fallen head over heels in love with Brady’s handsome Kentucky cousin. But after a dizzying courtship, her three-year marriage to Linc had ended with her leaving. She could only wish Brady and Ellie better luck.
The last time she’d spoken with Brady, he’d mentioned that Linc was sending a special gift, which implied that he wouldn’t be there in person. Big relief. She wasn’t up to dealing with her ex-husband tonight—or any other night.
She’d made her way to the vegan buffet table and was eyeing a veggie platter with hummus dip when a deep voice spoke behind her.
“Hello, Tracy.”
The half-empty soda can slipped out of her hand and crashed to the floor, splattering her jeans and new boots with sticky Mountain Dew. Heart sinking, she forced herself to turn around and look up. Way up. Tracy wasn’t a petite woman, but Linc, at six-foot-three, towered over her. Startled into silence, she took him in. At thirty-nine, he looked older than she remembered. There were creases at the corners of his hazel eyes and his rich chestnut hair had silvered at the temples. But the man was as flat-bellied and hot as ever, maybe hotter. Why couldn’t he have gained thirty pounds and lost his hair?
“Let me get that.” He grabbed a handful of paper napkins from the table, dropped to one knee, righted the can, and began sponging up the spilled soda. Looking up at her, he grinned. “As I remember, the last time I got down on one knee like this was when I proposed to you.”
He was turning on the old charm, just like always. Everything came easy to Linc. All he had to do was flash that movie-star smile. She’d fallen for it back in the d
ay. But now she knew better.
“What do you want, Linc?” she demanded.
“That can wait. Right now I could use a couple more napkins. Would you mind?”
She thrust more napkins at him. “Sorry I caught you off guard,” he said. “I saw you come in. I thought maybe you’d seen me, too. I was over by the gift table with Chet Bertelson. He waved at you and you waved back.”
“You know Chet?”
“I didn’t until a few minutes ago. I take it he’s a friend of yours.” Linc finished sopping up the soda, gathered the napkins and the soda can, and dumped them in the trash barrel at the end of the table. Dipping into the ice tub, he rinsed his hands and shook them dry.
“He’s not the kind of friend you mean,” Tracy said. “And that soda can you tossed goes in the recycle bin, not the trash.”
“So it begins.” Linc raised an eyebrow, as if to say fine, fish it out yourself.
Same old problem, Tracy thought. She cared passionately about making the world a better place. And playboy Linc had never given a damn about anything—including her.
“About Chet,” she said, changing the subject. “He’s not really even a friend. Last year I represented a waitress who sued him for unlawful termination. He fired her because she was pregnant.”
“I take it you won.”
“I did. Now, for some reason, he seems to think that makes us buddies. I waved back at him to be civil. Then I headed the other way. If I hadn’t, maybe I’d have seen you.”
Strange that she hadn’t seen him. Linc would’ve been hard to miss. The man attracted women like honey attracted bears. In fact, she’d noticed several ladies checking him out in the last couple of minutes.
That had been another flashpoint in their marriage. She’d never known Linc to be unfaithful. But in his fast-track world of horse racing, gambling, fast cars, and parties, he’d been surrounded by attractive, willing women. The worst of it was, he’d never understood how insecure that made her feel. Or maybe he hadn’t cared.
It had taken her a long, rough time to get over Linc. She’d thought she’d made it all the way. But now, standing face-to-face with him, she felt a welling of those old hormonal urges. The memory of that great male body and the delicious things they’d done together was still enough to dampen her panties. But she was wise to him now. Whatever Linc wanted, if he thought he could still push her buttons, he was sadly mistaken.
* * *
She was looking up at Linc like a beautiful, defiant ginger cat, ready to spit and claw if he reached out to her. What had he done to make the woman so distrustful? He’d given her everything she wanted. He’d never cheated or laid a hand on her. And their sex life had been . . . mind-blowing. Just the thought of having her in bed—or anywhere else they’d done it—made him ache.
“We need to talk, Tracy,” he said.
“So talk.”
“Not here. Too noisy. What do you say we sneak out and get ourselves a nice, quiet dinner where we can have an intelligent conversation?”
“I just got here. Besides, what do we have to talk about? We’ve already said it all.”
“Have we, Tracy?” Damn it, she was getting to him. “We never talked. You just walked out, without even saying good-bye. Next thing I knew, I was being served with divorce papers.”
“And you didn’t know why? I can’t believe that. How could you be so dense? You were never there when I needed you. You were always off somewhere having a good time.”
He reached out and caught her arm. The contact with her warm skin, through the thin silk sleeve of her blouse, sent a sensual jolt through his body. Linc willed himself to ignore it. “We’re not having this conversation here,” he growled, leaning close. “And I didn’t come all this way to hash over the divorce. It’s too late for that. This isn’t personal. It’s business.”
“Business?” She pulled away from him. “Then why didn’t you call me? We could’ve discussed it over the phone.”
“Because I wanted to come for my cousin’s wedding—and because I dislike doing business over the phone when I can do it in person.”
“Is that why you didn’t let me know you were coming?”
He shrugged. “Maybe if you’d known, you wouldn’t have shown up.”
The flicker in her eyes told Linc he’d hit home. But it was hard to believe she’d miss her friend’s wedding just to avoid him. Damn it, things had been good between them once. She’d loved him—at least he thought she had—until he’d come home from a big race in Vegas and found her gone.
Up close she looked tired and stressed. Tracy had always taken life too seriously. Was she getting enough rest? Was she having any fun?
The urge to sweep her away to his hotel room and make crazy love to her until she lay limp and giggling in his arms was so strong it almost knocked him over. He wanted it to happen. Maybe under all that resistance, so did she.
“So what’s the business about?” she asked. “I thought the prenuptial had settled everything between us.”
“It did. Except for one thing—your horse.”
“Oh.” Her fierce expression softened. “Is Hero all right?”
“He’s fine. But you need to make a decision about him. It’s complicated. That’s why we need to talk, and not here.”
She sighed. “Fine. But I just got here. I need to make the rounds and at least say hello to a few people. I’ll meet you at the entrance in, say, twenty minutes.” She glanced at the Gucci watch he’d given her for the last birthday she was with him.
“Roger.” Linc watched her walk away, admiring the sway of her hips and the taut contours of her lovely rump. So damned proud and yet so vulnerable. She’d treated him like some kind of contagious disease. It would serve her right to be taken down a notch or two. But he’d sensed the need in her—a need that matched his.
Emotions warred as he watched her disappear into the crowd. Making moves on his ex-wife would be like stepping into quicksand. But the temptation was there, as well as the lure of the bet. Linc had always been a risk-taker. There was something about the rush of playing for high stakes—and winning—that made him feel alive. And getting Tracy in bed again would be the ultimate win. The ribs wouldn’t be a bad payoff either.
He found Chet standing where he’d left him, still admiring the bourbon. Chet grinned at the sight of him.
“So, have you changed your mind about the bet?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Linc said. “Make it three years’ worth of free ribs and you’re on.”
Chapter Two
Pasting a smile on her face, Tracy wove her way through the crowd. She’d told Linc she needed twenty minutes to mingle and talk to the people she knew. The truth was, most of the people here were strangers. She’d greeted her casual friends on the way in. What she really needed was time to pull herself together.
What was wrong with her? How could she allow Linc to rock her world just by showing up?
She’d told herself she was over him. But facing him again had left her feeling as if she’d just slammed into a solid-glass wall.
In the restroom she let out her breath, wet her hands in the basin, and splashed her hot face. She was drying off when she heard a soft voice behind her.
“Are you all right, Tracy?” Meg Stoddard, Brady’s best friend, had just walked in. Meg, who would be hosting the marriage ceremony on her family’s guest ranch, was a stunning woman: smart, self-possessed, and genuinely nice. Tracy knew and liked her.
“It’s been a long day, that’s all,” Tracy said. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Can I get you something?”
“Thanks, I’ll be okay. It’s just that—” Tracy forced herself to laugh. “Sorry. I had a blast from the past a few minutes ago and I’m still in shock.”
“You had—wait a minute.” Meg stared at her. “I just put two and two together. Brady’s cousin, that tall, heart-stopping hunk of man candy who sent the Pappy Van Winkle—he’s your ex!”
“T
hat’s right. I hadn’t seen him since the divorce. I didn’t know he was going to be here until I walked in.”
“Wow.” Meg shook her head. “Brady introduced us when he arrived. I knew you’d been married to one of his cousins, but Brady’s got a lot of relatives. I never made the connection until now. All I can say is, the two of you must’ve made a gorgeous couple.”
“Thanks, but it takes a lot more than gorgeous to make a marriage—like the same values and the same priorities. Linc’s not a bad person. He’s kind and generous and he never mistreated me. But to him, life is all about fun and risk. He’s nothing but a playboy and he’ll never change.”
“How do you know that?” Meg asked gently. “Maybe if you gave him a chance—”
“I gave him too many chances,” Tracy said. “Linc is who he is—a man without a serious bone in his body.”
“But, oh my God, what a body.” Meg laughed.
“Let me tell you about the final straw, the one that sent me packing.” Tracy didn’t usually talk about her marriage, but now the words spilled out of her. “I’d signed up for this charity half marathon to raise money for a local homeless shelter. I’d never done anything like that before. I trained like crazy because I knew it would be tough. But all I really wanted was for Linc to be there at the finish line, to hug me and tell me he was proud. But of course he didn’t show. Do you know where he was?”
“I won’t even venture a guess.”
“He was in Las Vegas, watching one of his damned horses run—and probably gambling to his heart’s content. He chose that horse over his wife! I finished the race with a respectable time, came home, loaded the car, and was gone by the time his flight landed.”
“And you’ve never had regrets?”
“Oh, I’ve had plenty of lonely nights. But then I reminded myself how much I wanted children—with the kind of father who’d show up for their soccer games and dance recitals and be there to counsel and support them. I knew Linc would never be that father. That was the real reason I left. I was hoping to find a man who’d put his family first. So far that hasn’t happened.” Tracy shook her head. “Sorry, Meg. I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. I guess I just needed to talk.”