by Opal Carew
The fact was he hadn’t even bothered to look at the prices.
“Maybe we should choose another bet,” Austin said.
He actually wanted her to win, and she was practically guaranteed to win the other way around.
“Come on, buddy,” Quinn said. “Give her a chance to win some money.”
Austin shrugged. “That’s what I’m trying to do, but okay. You’re on.”
Quinn flagged the waiter and asked for the bill.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize you’re in a rush,” he said.
“No rush. We just have a wager on the final amount,” Quinn said.
The waiter grinned. “Of course, sir.”
The man had probably seen a lot stranger bets than that. He returned moments later and handed them the bill.
Austin glanced at the amount. The final two digits were sixty-eight.
He smiled. “I’m afraid you lose, April.”
Even though he had tried to set it up for her to win, and the bet got turned around so it was wildly in his favor, he still got a rush from winning.
April sighed. “Okay. So what’s the question?”
“We all know that your ex is an ass,” Austin said, “but you thought you loved him once. What about him or your relationship made you think you were in love?”
April’s eyes widened. “Wow. You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“I think that examining the bad things that happen to us—the good things, too—helps us understand ourselves better and helps us make better decisions going forward.”
“Not repeating history, you mean,” she said.
“It’s more than that. You believed you loved this guy. There were things about him you were blind to. There’s a reason. There was something in the relationship that fed something inside you. If you understand what you wanted, then you’re better equipped to see the next relationship more clearly.”
She pursed her lips. “You’re right, but I’m not sure I could avoid the same pitfalls again.”
She turned her gaze to his, and in her wide sapphire eyes he saw a deep sadness and loneliness that tore at his soul.
“Then tell me about it.” At her hesitation, he smiled. “You did lose the bet. And it’ll just stay between the three of us.”
She glanced to Quinn, who simply sat in his chair observing.
She sighed. “It helps if you understand a bit about my past. I didn’t tell you that the reason my name is April is because that’s the month I was born. My last name is Smith because … well, the person who named me didn’t have much imagination. You remember that I told you my mother abandoned me at the hospital. The insurance she’d used was someone else’s. They didn’t want to give me that person’s name. After that, I was put in foster care.”
“I’m surprised you weren’t adopted,” Austin said. “There are so many couples looking for an infant to adopt.”
“I was. But my luck has never been good. My adopted parents weren’t … well, as caring as they should have been. I was pulled from their home when I was about two years old. A neighbor reported a problem, and the authorities checked in and found that the parents were practically starving the child. She was suffering from malnutrition, and it took a lot of hospital visits, therapy, and patience by one kind woman to get the child back to a normal weight.”
Austin was confused at first when April started talking about the child and she, but he suddenly realized she was referring to herself in the third person. He didn’t think she even realized she was doing it.
“That woman couldn’t adopt her, though,” she continued, “and the child went to another home. Now labeled as a difficult child for care, she didn’t stay in any foster home for very long.”
She was staring at her glass and started tracing lines on the surface.
“I could go on and on about the problems of being in the system … the heartbreaks … but…” She drew in a deep breath. “When I met Maurice … The attention he paid me … I felt wanted for the first time in my life.”
Austin noticed Quinn’s compressed lips, and even though his expression was closed, Austin could tell that her statement was a kick in the gut.
“I saw what I wanted to see,” she continued. “He took care of me. He said he loved me.”
“So you mistook things like him cosigning your mortgage, getting you a job in his company, keeping you within his group of friends as his looking out for you?” Austin asked.
She bit her lip. “Yes, that’s right.”
“And his money,” Quinn said. “I’m sure that played a big part in your love for him.”
She winced a little.
After a brief hesitation, she said softly, “I’m not going to deny it.”
Austin could feel the pain in her words. Her gaze turned to Austin, her eyes begging him to understand.
“When you’re in the system,” she said, “you know that you’re out on your own at eighteen. No fallback. No safety net. I was lucky to get a scholarship for college so I had a hope of a better future, but the uncertainty I’d lived with all my life left me craving security. I believed he loved me. And he had money. I’d never have to worry.”
Austin could see that she hated herself for having to admit that. He could also see that Quinn couldn’t see anything past her admission, which would exacerbate his belief that she was a gold digger.
Damn, but their relationship history was fraught with pain and misunderstanding.
He’d asked this question not to torture her but to get her to open up about what she wanted in a relationship. About what love was to her. He’d hoped that her answers would help Quinn see that she wanted more from a romantic relationship than money. And he’d hoped it would give him some insight into why she hadn’t found what she’d needed with Quinn. Austin was sure she hadn’t left Quinn just because he’d been broke at the time. He’d hoped to find some clue that might help bring them together again.
Because it was so clear to him—it had been all along—that Quinn loved this woman.
“Okay, so we get that he made you feel secure,” Austin said. “But as a man, what did he do? How did he behave to make you think he loved you?”
She glanced at him in surprise—as if amazed he would even talk to her now that she’d made her admission.
“As I said, he paid attention to me. He made me feel special.”
Austin could feel Quinn seething behind his indifferent expression. Austin was sure he was thinking that he had done the same thing. From what Quinn had mentioned of her, he had showered her with attention.
“What specifically did he do?”
“I don’t know. He listened to what I said. One time, he surprised me with a scarf I’d seen in a store window the night before when we’d gone out for a walk. I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed my interest. He knew I loved breakfast more than any other meal, so he’d often take me out to a pancake house in the evening so I could have breakfast for dinner. But mostly, he just always made time for me.”
“It sounds like you wish you were back with the guy,” Quinn said, his voice devoid of emotion, but Austin could hear a tinge of bitterness.
She shook her head. “Of course not. I realize how superficial those things are in the long run. And he didn’t really care. He just put on a good show.”
“But it gives a clue as to what you need in a relationship,” Austin said. “With your past, it’s important that you have someone who makes time for you. Who listens. Who shows that he cares. Because all of that has been wholly missing from your life.”
Quinn looked at his watch. “As fun as this conversation is,” he said dryly, “we should get moving. We have the poker game scheduled in about two hours and, Austin, you said you want to hit the casino first.”
Austin added a generous tip to the bill and signed it, then turned to April.
“You deserve to find a man who is everything you’ve dreamed of.” Then he took her hand and kissed it.
* * *
April stood up and accepted the arm Austin offered, curling her fingers around his elbow. A quick glance at Quinn’s cold stare made her want to shrivel into a ball. What did he want from her? He’d already told her he wanted to share her with his friend. Why would he care about such a trivial intimacy as her holding his arm?
Unless it was because he hadn’t given his permission.
She walked alongside Austin, and the heat of him so close set her stomach fluttering, his strong, muscular arm making her feel protected.
Austin was a good, sensitive man. The questions he’d asked, although uncomfortable, showed his insight and compassion.
They stepped from the relative quiet of the restaurant into the din of the crowds. As they walked along the carpeted floor, video screens blared with bright lights and flashing displays. The continuous sound of the machines and people’s voices bombarded her.
Quinn pulled his cell from his pocket and stared at the screen.
“That’s Johan,” he said. “He’s having a PR issue. Carl Veron is trashing the company all over the internet, and Johan is taking some interviews to set things straight. He wants to go over a few things with me before his first one in half an hour.”
“Do you need me to help?” Austin asked.
“No. You go ahead to the tables, and I’ll meet you there. The usual?”
Austin nodded, and Quinn hurried away toward the nearest elevator in his long-legged stride.
“Johan is our PR person,” Austin said.
“I gathered,” April responded.
As she walked by Austin’s side, passing people playing slots, blackjack, and other games she had no clue about, she wondered how people could stand sitting at these machines in the midst of the pedestrian traffic flowing around them. He led her past the machines, showing no interest in the crowded tables they were passing by.
“Where’s the usual?” she asked.
“There are VIP areas that are less crowded. Quinn and I have one we favor.”
They followed the flow of the crowd for a while, then he turned down a wide corridor. There were columns and plants and even a lovely fountain ahead. They passed by designer shops and restaurants as they walked. As they got closer to the fountain, which took up a long portion of the center space, a distinctive blond head caught April’s eye.
Oh, God, that was Sarah Piner and her husband, Jon, stepping out of Cartier’s. Just her luck that she would run into them twice in the same afternoon.
April’s body stiffened, and she slowed down. Sarah hadn’t seen her yet.
Austin tipped his head. “What’s wrong?”
She turned her head away from Sarah. “That couple. I don’t want them to see me.”
Austin stopped, turning toward her. His big body blocked Sarah’s view of April, but that wouldn’t last when she and Jon got closer.
“Really?” His lips turned up in a grin. “There’s an easy solution to that.”
The flare in his eyes caught her off guard, then she found herself pulled against his broad chest, his arms gliding around her. His mouth captured hers. His hand slid up to cup her head, and he drew her closer as his lips moved persuasively on hers. His tongue nudged her lips, and she parted them without thinking.
Her heart stammered at the sweetness of his tongue invading her mouth. Of his muscular body wrapped around her. Of melting into his arms and giving herself over to his passionate kiss.
It seemed to last an eternity. Her arms were around his neck, her breasts snugly pressed against the heat of him.
Then he drew back. His grin was gone, and he looked as dazed as she felt.
“I think they’re gone,” Austin said.
“What?” She had trouble drawing in air.
“That couple you were avoiding. They’re gone.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed, and she eased away, sliding her hands from his neck to his shoulders, but his arms were still around her.
Good thing, or she might have melted to the floor.
“Uh … look,” he said. “I know you and Quinn have a thing. I’m not making a move on you.”
“Good to know,” she said, finding it hard to think while pressed so close to his warm, masculine body, his strong arms around her.
“He’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t jeopardize that.”
“Of course. But…”
“But what?”
“Is there a reason you’re not letting me go?”
His expression changed, his eyes glittering as a slow smile spread across his face.
“I guess because I’m enjoying having you so close. I know I shouldn’t indulge myself, but”—he shrugged—“there’s really no harm done since it’s all innocent.”
He released her, and she stepped back, immediately missing his warm arms around her. People walked by totally ignoring them. He offered his elbow, and she curled her fingers around it. He rested his hand over hers, and the comfort of the gesture made her feel protected and cherished.
“So are you going to tell me why you were avoiding those people?” he asked.
“They’re good friends of Maurice’s. My ex. They came here for the wedding.”
They started to walk again.
“That’s awkward. There’ll probably be quite a few of your wedding guests who decided to stay over for the weekend even though the wedding was canceled.” He grinned. “It sounds like I might have several opportunities to”—he winked—“help you hide out.”
Her heartbeat raced at the thought of being swept into his arms again.
“I … uh … no. It’s not like that. It’s just … Sarah isn’t shy about asking questions. Or stating her opinion. And doesn’t much care if it cuts to the bone.” She flicked her gaze to his. “I really appreciate what you did.”
He squeezed her hand again. “I was glad to be of service.”
7
April followed Austin around another corner, and after a few moments, they approached a wide, ornately decorated gold door with VIP Lounge written on it. Maurice had taken her here yesterday afternoon before everything had gone wrong.
Austin opened the door, and she accompanied him inside. A hostess greeted them with a tray of champagne-filled flutes. Austin picked up a glass and handed it to April, then took a sip of his own. He continued across the lounge to another door and pushed a button. The door slid open, and she realized it was an elevator. When Maurice had brought her here, they’d sat in the lounge and talked with some of his friends, then left for the rehearsal dinner afterward.
Austin pressed the eleven button, and the elevator moved upward. When the door opened, they stepped into a casino that was quite different from what they’d left downstairs. It was wood paneled and more elegant. Unlike the casino downstairs, the video machines were isolated to a section off to the right. The main casino was mostly filled with gaming tables. Lots of different kinds. All with several people around them.
There were women in glittering gowns and simple cocktail dresses, men in everything from casual suits to tuxedos. Austin fit right in with his well-tailored designer suit. Her sundress, in black with coral flowers, was borderline acceptable, but she felt a little out of place. Not that she had a choice. This was now the dressiest thing she owned as of this afternoon.
“This way,” Austin said as he led her past several tables to a craps table. “I’ve had a lot of luck at this one.”
As they approached the table, she glanced at the people surrounding it. Her heart stuttered. Oh, God, three couples who were supposed to be at the wedding today were standing at that table. She stiffened, slowing down a little.
“Something wrong?” Austin asked as he slowed to a stop.
She knew how gamblers were. The fact he’d had luck at that table would be important to him. She couldn’t ask him not to go there.
“No, nothing.” She tried to urge him to keep moving, but he stared at her face, reading her anxiety.
He frowned then glanced at the table. “You know, it’s p
robably a good idea to try a different table. Stale luck and all,” he said.
“But—”
He interrupted her protest by turning her forty-five degrees. He glanced around, and all the other craps tables she could see were full except one.
He led her to that table. As they approached, someone threw the dice, and then there was a groan and the chips were cleared away. Austin guided her to the table’s edge and slid his arm around her waist, tucking her close to his side.
“New shooter,” the uniformed man hovering around the table called.
The man slid the dice to an attractive brunette in a green dress. She picked them up and tossed them across the table. They bounced jauntily on the table, then rolled to a halt. Twelve. More groans, and the chips were swept away.
“Do you know how to play craps?” Austin asked as he laid a large stack of bills on the table and a casino staffer slid a large stack of chips toward him.
“Not really,” she said, glancing at the complicated pattern of numbers, grids, and words on the red felt of the table. It didn’t help that she was pressed to his hard, masculine body, sending a warm flush through her.
“It can sound a bit complicated, but—”
“It’s okay. Why don’t I watch for a bit to see if I get the hang of it?”
He smiled. “Sure. But feel free to ask questions.”
She nodded. He set three red chips on a strip labeled Pass Line. Several of the other players did the same, including the woman with the dice. She tossed them across the table again, and they bounced to a stop with a three and a six. A staff member slid a white disc labeled On to the nine in a strip of numbers at the top of the table.
Austin placed blue chips on five and six on that same strip.
The woman rolled a few times. On the second roll, a five came up and Austin won. The chips on the other numbers weren’t cleared away, though. April was confused by the goings-on, with people adding chips, winning chips, then suddenly, all the chips were cleared away, and the man who’d been calling out the rolled numbers in a humorous banter called, “New shooter!” again.