All Bets Are On

by Cynthia Cooke

  “By the way, good job with Fredricks,” his mother said and smiled that feline smile of hers. “Can I have a word?”

  “Now?” Disbelief coursed through him.

  “Yes.”

  Derek reluctantly took his arms away from Jaclyn. “I’ll see you back at the table?”

  She nodded and walked away.

  He turned to his mother, more than a little annoyed. “What is it? What couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

  She stepped into his arms and reluctantly, he moved so they wouldn’t be standing still in the middle of the dance floor and calling attention to themselves. “I have a new job for you.”

  “And you couldn’t give it to me in the morning?”

  “I could. But right now is so much more fun.”

  His jaw stiffened as he bit back an expletive. “Fine. What is it?”

  “Your little bird’s foundation. I want you to shut it down.”

  He stared at her. “What?”

  “Safe Haven. Jaclyn’s foundation for homeless kids.”

  “Yes?”

  “After I met her tonight, I had it looked into.”

  “All right. I’ll bite. What’d you find?”

  “Someone has been embezzling the donations. You need to take her down, along with the foundation.” She stepped back from him and walked away.

  Derek stood still watching his mother. He’d been with Jaclyn all night. Touching her. Holding her. If she was the least bit involved, he would have sensed it. Wouldn’t he? Or had he been too preoccupied? He looked at Jaclyn sitting at the table, her little beaded pocketbook full of her brochures clutched in her hand.

  Embezzling from her foundation? From the kids she kept talking about?

  No way.

  Chapter Eight

  Jaclyn’s head was spinning and she was growing more nervous and agitated by the minute when Derek came to her and pulled her back onto the dance floor. The words he told his mother when she’d asked if she’d see Jaclyn again, “you will, I’m certain,” kept echoing in her mind. She was fairly sure she didn’t want to see him again. He was out of her league and way, way out of her comfort zone. The more she saw him, the more she would think about him. She’d begin to dream and fantasize that maybe he was the “one” who could take away her loneliness. Who could give her that family she’d never had.

  And then he’d walk away and leave her alone and empty. No. She wouldn’t go there. Certainly not with him. Tonight was all about business, about raising money for the foundation. That was all that mattered to her. Not how hot this guy was, or how he had every nerve ending in her body lit up and sparking. She couldn’t think about that. Even if there wasn’t the money at stake, and let’s not forget there was, she didn’t do casual sex. Ever.

  Sex for her came only after she was in a long-term relationship, only after there was a strong commitment and a good amount of trust built up. Trust that as soon as the sun came up, Mr. Perfect wouldn’t be high-tailing it out the door. But as Derek whirled her around the floor, holding her close, his hands caressing her body, she really wished she could let herself go and be casual, just this once. But one night with Mr. Gorgeous wasn’t worth the cost.

  Though he did have a way of making her laugh as he pointed out one guest after another, spilling their dirty little secrets. “The Wilcoxes are into oil. The Thortons, precious jewels, the Gallaghers, land development. And those are the Franciscans,” he said, pointing to an older couple standing by the bar. The man looked bored. The woman, whose diamonds appeared to be choking her, was laughing too loudly at another man whose face was so close to her prominently displayed heaving bosom, if he leaned in any closer, his nose would disappear into the depths of her cleavage.

  “Sweatshops,” he whispered. “All over. New York, Nicaragua, and Vietnam.”

  “That’s terrible.” She knew about sweatshops, and seeing these two overstuffed swine dripped in jewels made her nauseous.

  “What should we do about it?” he asked, as he whirled her toward their table for another glass of wine.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I wish we could do something.”

  “Lots of little kids working in windowless warehouses for twelve hour shifts, and it happens everywhere all the time. You think America is immune? Spend some time in the textile district of San Francisco or New York City or even here in Miami. Money doesn’t just talk, it screams.”

  “Do you know where these places are?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then call a hungry journalist, leave a tip.”

  “You think that would help?”

  “Would it hurt?”

  He thought for a moment. “It would be better if Mrs. Franciscan could be caught in one of her own warehouses.”

  “How would you manage that?” she asked, wracking her brain for ways to stop them, to expose them. To make them squirm under the spotlight.

  “I don’t know. It wouldn’t be easy but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

  She smiled as he handed her a glass of wine, and she took a sip.

  “Let’s see if you can point out the good from the bad,” he said.

  She looked around her. “From this crowd of people?”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet you another $1,000 for your charity. See if you can pick out another scumbag in this room. Trust me, it’s like spearing fish in a barrel.”

  She grinned at him and looked around. All the men were distinguished, well dressed, and dripping in money. “That one,” she gestured with a nod. “The aging one with the slicked back hair and a young woman on his arm.”

  “Why, because he likes hair gel? Or because he’s with a woman more than half his age.”

  She giggled. “Both.”

  “Ah, well, you’d be wrong. He’s a widower and the young woman is his daughter. He’s been very distraught since the death of his wife and his daughter accompanies him everywhere.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible,” she said, bringing her hand to her chest. “I feel terrible for thinking the worst of him.”

  “And that’s why you’re so sweet.” He smiled, his eyes locking onto hers and in that moment, she thought he was the most perfect man in the universe. Or at least her universe.

  She was doomed. This had to end, and quick.

  The band played a slow melody. “Would you care to dance again?”

  Would she care to dance? You mean stand there in the middle of the floor with his arms wrapped around her and her head resting on his well-formed chest as they swayed to the music? Hell, no. It was time for a speedy exit. She was circling the drain and fast. But as she stared up into his big, beautiful blue eyes, instead of saying no, instead of running home as fast as her high-heeled feet would carry her, she smiled and said, “I’d love to.”

  What was wrong with her? Had she no backbone? No strength to resist him at all? He whisked her back onto the floor and swept her into his arms, and she had to admit, she liked the feel of him holding her. She wasn’t ready for the night to end. A few dances and glasses of wine later and she was having a hard time extricating herself from Derek’s arms. Or even wanting to. Any more time spent clinging to his wide, strong shoulders would be a recipe for disaster. But that didn’t mean she could make herself leave.

  As if reading her thoughts, he whispered into her ear. “You ready to go?” The low timbre of his voice resonated within her, tickling her insides and making her tingle. Everywhere.

  She looked around them at the almost empty dance floor and nodded. He led her out the front doors and to his limo. She had to admit, she’d had a wonderful time. Not only had he been a perfect gentleman, and a lot of fun, he’d introduced her to several big hitters who seemed very interested in her foundation. She’d even scored a few donations. A successful evening all the way around. And she wasn’t ready for it to end.

  She climbed into the backseat of the limo next to him, and suddenly his lips were covering hers, stealing her breath and making her stomach flutter and her head s
wim. Her hands pressed flush against the swell of his chest. Her breath caught as heat surged through her. Damn this man was hot. A small moan caught in her throat and she was kissing him back, pushing her tongue into his hot mouth. Giving herself to him fully.

  She couldn’t let this happen. She had to stop him, somehow, someway. Then his hands touched her breasts. The pad of his thumb moving over her nipple, shooting fire through her. To her horror, a moan escaped her lips. She pulled back and tried to catch her breath, to wrestle hold of her runaway libido, when his lips fell over hers once again, sending her pulse racing and desire crawling up her belly. Yes, she would stop him. She had to stop him.

  And she would.

  In just a minute.

  Chapter Nine

  Finally alone in the back of the limo, Derek’s mouth moved over Jaclyn’s neck, savoring the scent of her, spicy with a hint of musk that made him think of nothing but stripping her naked. He wanted to feel his skin against hers, her warmth, her softness. His tongue flicked her earlobe. Drawing it into his mouth, he savored the small nub, pulling it between his teeth. She made a soft mewling noise, and he knew he had to have her. All of her.

  His mouth found hers, capturing and conquering, and showing no mercy as his hand moved up her thigh, toward her center. Her taste filled him, surging in his blood, his cock swelling painfully against his zipper. There was no stopping it, stopping them. Even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He had to have her.

  Moving his tongue the way his cock wanted to move within her tight center—deeper and deeper, faster and faster—he kissed her. She moaned, clutching his shoulders, as his hand slipped beneath her dress and found the heat between her legs.

  She gasped and lifted off the seat as his fingers caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh, lightly stroking, circling. Seducing. Yes, she would be his tonight and it would be a night she would not soon forget. His fingers eased toward the thin silky fabric of her panties.

  “Stop, no.” Jaclyn pulled away from him, her eyes filled with panic, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

  He wanted to draw her back, but he didn’t move. The scent of her desire, warm and thick, filled the car, making it hard to reason. “Yes. Jaclyn.” He was pleading. How could he possibly be pleading? But damn, every fiber of his being was burning for her.

  “I can’t. I won’t,” she whispered barely able to find her voice. “Not here. Not in the back of a limo like some cheap—” She couldn’t say the words. She was gasping for air, swinging her head back and forth, her eyes wide, her hair a lovely mess.

  They were passing the Ritz Carlton. Derek picked up the phone and called the driver. “Get us a room at the Ritz, will you Phlegyas?”

  The limo immediately turned around.

  “I can’t go into a hotel with you,” she insisted, righting her clothes.

  “Why not? You don’t want to make love to me here in the back of this car, and I can understand that, sort of. I mean it does have imported leather seats and the best Persian carpet money can buy—”

  “Are you serious? You are not really serious right now?”

  He smiled. “No. I just…well. I don’t want the night to end. You. This. It’s magic, and I know you feel the same. We were making a connection here, one I hoped we could explore further.”

  “You did?” she asked, a smile moving onto her face. “You want to get to know me better?”

  “More than anything,” he said and, at that moment, he truly meant it.

  “Good. Then take me to Serendipity’s.”

  “Serendipity’s?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s not far.” The limo stopped in front of the Ritz, and before the driver could reach her, she opened the door and crawled out of the limo, catching herself on the car.

  “What is a Serendipity?” he asked, feeling slightly exuberant as the night air hit him.

  “Only the best ice cream parlor in town. And luckily for you, it is located right inside.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the front doors of the hotel and into a brightly lit ice cream parlor.

  “Ice cream,” he mumbled. “Great, just what I wanted.”

  Jaclyn was ready to crawl right out of her skin. And her clothes. She needed to get into that ice cream parlor and quick, or she would be sexing Derek right there in the lobby of the Ritz. What had gotten into her? She’d never felt like this before. Like a wanton Jezebel. Like she didn’t care who was watching or what the consequences were, only that she had to feel him inside her. Around her. Moving deep within her.

  She sucked in a breath and headed toward the counter. “A hot fudge sundae, please. With extra fudge.” Chocolate would be the only answer to what ailed her. Well, not the only answer, but the best thing she could come up with at the moment.

  Derek walked up behind her and encircled his arms around her waist. “Make that two.”

  She leaned back into him, feeling his bulge pressing into her bottom. God, the way he touched her, it was unbelievable. Amazing. Sinful. The boy working the counter turned his back to make the ice cream and Derek, taking full advantage, swept both hands up Jaclyn’s stomach and cupped her breasts. Her nipples tightened painfully and she longed for him to pinch them, to hold them tighter, to take them in his mouth and suck them fiercely. She turned in his arms and kissed him deeply.

  “Um,” the boy said behind her. Reluctantly, she broke away and turned back to see two giant sundaes sitting on the counter in front of her.

  “Thank you,” she said, without looking up at him, knowing what she would see on his face, the perceptive grin, the sparkle in his young eyes. Her cheeks flamed.

  Derek paid the bill while she took the sundaes to a small table in the back corner out of the boy’s sight. She set them on the table, took a chair, and immediately put a large bite of chocolate-laden ice cream into her mouth.

  And moaned in pleasure.

  Derek sat next to her, a smile on his face. His color was high, as hers must be. They were both swimming in erotic hormones, and if she didn’t cool down quick she was going to lose their bet. She couldn’t let that happen.

  “I can think of a lot of better ways to make you moan,” he said.

  She took another bite. “Mmm. I don’t know about that.”

  “Are you sure?” His wicked hand slipped between her legs.

  She squeezed them shut and as he pulled away she thought of her kids at the foundation, thought of the looks on their little faces when the play equipment arrived. Play equipment she would never be able to afford if they couldn’t get back on their financial feet. That had to be her focus, the only thing that should be on her mind. That would keep her out of Derek’s strong arms and away from his extremely capable hands. Her gaze dropped to his hands, and her body tingled from phantom touches. Yes, he was that good.

  She looked up at his lips, his strong jaw, his beautifully wide shoulders, and turned back to her ice cream. He leaned over and licked a bit of chocolate off her upper lip and it took every ounce of strength she had not to abandon her ice cream right then, throw her arms around him, and kiss him senseless. She was doomed.

  Doomed.

  …

  “That good?” Derek asked, his sundae barely touched. Ice cream wasn’t what he wanted.

  “Heavenly,” she murmured. After she took another large bite, he leaned over and licked the hot fudge off her lips, which led to another kiss. He stroked his tongue against hers, making her squirm in her seat.

  “We need to stop,” she said, breaking away from him.

  “Why? When we’re having so much fun.” He would explode in his pants if he didn’t get some relief. This woman was hot. She had him in such a state, in fact he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly. Maybe Minos and the others were right. Maybe he was way overdue to get laid.

  She grinned and fanned herself. “Because things are getting a little too hot in here.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” He leaned in again. She stopped him w
ith a hand to his chest. Just her touch, sure and strong, made the breath catch in his throat.

  “What’s wrong with that is I’m not going to sleep with you tonight. I need that money. Correction, my foundation needs that money.” She scooted away from him then took another bite of her damned ice cream.

  He was literally aching for her.

  “A bet is a bet,” she added, then filled her mouth, that beautiful sweet mouth, with even more ice cream. She took the cherry off the top and pulled the stem out in a most seductive way. He was going to come in his pants.

  “Didn’t you get a donation or two tonight?”

  “I did, but it wasn’t enough to cover all the bills and for a playground.”

  “A playground? Is that really necessary?”

  “Necessary? No.”

  “Then, darling, what are we waiting for?” He wanted to pounce on her, to throw her back on the bench and fuck her senseless right then and there. If he gave the boy behind the counter an eyeful, well, a little education never hurt anyone.

  “We’re having ice cream and you’re not eating any of yours.” She pouted, staring at his drooping sundae.

  Seriously, if his sexy schoolmarm wanted to eat ice cream, he knew just the place to put it. “It’s not what I’m hungry for.”

  “Maybe not, but you can’t let something that good, that sinful, go to waste.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for being such a gentleman.”

  “Is that what I am?”

  She laughed. “The prize is always sweeter to those who wait for it.”

  He ran the top of his finger down her neck and along the V of her dress. “Waiting isn’t my strong suit.”

  “Especially when you’re not sure if you’ll actually win in the end?”

  His gaze caught hers and held them until finally she turned away, finishing off the last of her sundae.

  “I will win you. That I can guarantee you, Miss Reynolds.”

  “Really?” she taunted.

  “Really. So the big question is, how can you turn down such a golden opportunity?”