Make You Remember

by Macy Beckett

  Devyn laughed and reclaimed her hair, glad to hear that he wanted her, though she shouldn’t have cared either way. “I’ll help look at the security tapes, Dumont. But you’re sleeping alone tonight.”

  He set up the recorded feed on the big screen monitor, and for the next hour, Devyn watched the footage while Beau surveyed the casino through the window. She looked for anything out of the ordinary—guests repeatedly knocking items to the floor or monopolizing the roulette dealer’s attention—but so far it all seemed aboveboard.

  When her eyes couldn’t take the strain any longer, she promised to return tomorrow. Beau gave her a gentlemanly kiss on the hand before they parted, but there was nothing tame about the hunger in his gaze when his lips brushed her knuckles. If his intent was to keep her awake half the night, he accomplished his goal. It was stubborn determination, and maybe a little bit of pride, that kept Devyn in her bunk.

  The next night didn’t yield any breakthroughs either, but she enjoyed spending the evening curled up beside Beau on their shared chair, his powerful arm wrapped around her so sure and steady. To pass the time while they studied the footage, they talked about where they’d traveled since high school and their favorite places to visit. It turned out they were both partial to beaches. Beau told her about Hisaronu Bay in Turkey, two stretches of sandy beach with aquamarine waters and a nearly constant breeze perfect for windsurfing.

  “I want to take you there someday,” he said, as if making plans together for the future was a foregone conclusion.

  Devyn wasn’t sure how she felt about that, so she kept the conversation moving. “My favorite is Caneel Bay in Saint John. I took a private charter there from Saint Thomas and spent the day snorkeling.” She didn’t mention that she’d taken the trip with an ex. “It’s warm and gorgeous, and getting to the Virgin Islands is easy because you don’t need a passport.”

  From there, they compared their favorite movies and discovered they were both fans of slapstick comedies, specifically Monty Python films and spoofs like Austin Powers.

  “Monty Python’s Holy Grail is the funniest thing ever committed to film,” Beau declared. “Especially the scene where King Arthur asks the French guard to join his quest to find the grail—”

  “And the guard says, We already have one,” Devyn interrupted with a giggle-snort. “Best line ever!”

  “I was just going to say the same thing,” Beau said, smiling down at her in wonder. “I can’t believe you like that movie. How did I never know that about you?”

  Devyn propped her chin on his chest and returned his smile. “Well, we didn’t do a whole lot of talking when we dated.”

  “True,” he said with a chuckle. “And I guess we fell into the same pattern here on the boat.”

  “You know what they say about old habits . . .”

  “Mmm,” he agreed. He kissed her forehead and returned his attention to the recorded feed on the monitor. “I’m glad we’re finally getting to know each other. I like you, Devyn Mauvais.”

  She grinned and settled into his embrace, utterly content for the first time in recent memory. “You’re not so bad either, Dumont.”

  • • •

  The following night, they were sharing stories of their most embarrassing moments when Devyn noticed something strange on the monitor. She sat up and leaned closer to the screen, then asked Beau to pause the footage.

  “Look right there,” she said, pointing to a familiar cowboy hat. It was the married asshole who had hit on her last week. The man leaned a hip against the roulette table to place a bet, which wasn’t what bothered her. “Now check this out.” She indicated a busty young blonde standing across from the cowboy, placing a wager of her own.

  “What about them?” Beau asked.

  “They’re not a couple, or at least they don’t act like it.” She’d noticed while observing the casino floor that the cowboy was a loner. Aside from an occasional tip of his hat, he didn’t engage in conversation with the other gamblers. “I’ve never seen them talk.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “But they keep coming to the roulette table and standing right across from each other.” That struck Devyn as odd. “Why would two strangers feel the urge to play roulette at exactly the same time—and assume the same positions at the table?”

  Beau wrinkled his forehead and played the overhead feed in slow motion. For the next several minutes, they scrutinized every frame containing the couple, but didn’t turn up any evidence of theft. The cowboy lost two bets and ambled off to the nearest blackjack table while the blonde strode to the bar for a glass of wine.

  Devyn didn’t have a lick of proof, but her instincts blared a red alert. “Something’s up with those two,” she muttered to herself. “I can feel it.”

  “Maybe she’s Jill,” Beau said.

  “Who’s Jill?”

  “His mistress.” Beau explained how he and Nicky had checked out the guy for suspicious behavior at the poker table, and glimpsed a text message to his lover. “He’s not a total idiot, but apparently not enough to canoodle in public with the other woman.”

  Devyn wasn’t convinced. “Do you have a smaller camera? Something I can wear, or plant near the roulette wheel?”

  Beau shook his head.

  She slid him a disbelieving glare. “What kind of ex-military security buff doesn’t have a spy cam?”

  He shrugged. “The kind running security on a historic riverboat.”

  “Well, the ceiling cameras aren’t cutting it.” She needed a way to get a low, hands-level view of the dealer’s chips, since that’s where any theft was likely coming from. “How late does the cowboy usually hang around?”

  “Till closing,” Beau said. “He’s a big player.”

  In more ways than one, the cheating jerk. Devyn had an idea to get a closer look. It wasn’t the most brilliant plan she’d ever concocted, but it was worth a shot. “I’m guessing employees aren’t allowed to gamble here or fraternize with guests, right?”

  “Not if they want to keep their jobs.”

  “I’m going back to my room to change,” she said. “Tell Nicky that I’m going to hang out on the floor for a while, and not to bother me.”

  Beau eyed her while folding both arms over his massive chest. “Why? What have you got up your sleeve?”

  “Nothing,” Devyn said with a wink. “Yet.”

  Twenty minutes later, she was back in the casino wearing a push-up bra and her lowest cut blouse, the one that showed enough boob to stop traffic. It also had long sleeves that flared at the wrist . . . perfect for concealing a handheld camera, or in her case, a cell phone with video capacity.

  She scanned the room for a black cowboy hat and found it bent over the roulette wheel. Perfect timing. Devyn made her way to the opposite side of the table, not surprised to find the blonde there. The woman pulled a ten-dollar chip from her sequined clutch and bet on red. Devyn settled beside the blonde and pretended to study the wheel, then bent just enough at the waist to bring her cleavage into prime view for anyone facing her.

  It didn’t take long for the cowboy to notice. Devyn didn’t make direct eye contact, but through her periphery, she could see him ogling. So she stood there and let him get his fill. The blonde made a sound of annoyance, barely audible, but loud enough to tell Devyn the woman didn’t like competing for the cowboy’s attention.

  So the two were involved. At least that suspicion was confirmed.

  “Last call for bets,” the dealer announced. After a few players tossed down their chips, he waved a hand over the table. “No more wagers.”

  All eyes were on the tiny white roulette ball—even the dealer’s—when he put it in motion. Discreetly, Devyn tapped her cell phone screen, setting it to record while she angled the camera lens toward the dealer’s chips and pretended to watch the circling ball. It bounced a few times and landed on black, causing half the table to groan and the other half to cheer. But Devyn didn’t stick around to watch the payout. She had what she’d
come for.

  She strode away toward the bar and rejoined Beau in the security room.

  Beau stared at her half-exposed chest while greeting her at the door. “Interesting wardrobe choice. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  Devyn glanced down at the girls, grinning at her partners in crime. “They got the job done. Anyone facing me was too distracted to notice this.” She held up her cell phone. “Now let’s see if I caught anything good.”

  Huddling around her small screen, they watched the recording with bated breath. The footage was a bit shaky, and she’d captured only half the dealer’s chip rack in the video frame, but it was the right half. The shadow of a sequined clutch passed over the stacks, and then a set of slim, fair fingers quickly slipped beneath it to capture a single one-hundred-dollar chip. The theft wasn’t grand enough to alert the dealer, but quite the haul when spread out over the course of an evening. Or a week. The pair had probably scammed thousands by now.

  “Well, son of a bitch,” Beau muttered. “You were right.”

  Devyn cupped an ear. “Come again? I didn’t hear you.”

  Laughing, he took her face between his hands and gently tipped back her head. He held her gaze for a few heartbeats, giving her a chance to pull away. When she didn’t, he murmured, “You were right,” and then kissed her, soft and slow.

  Beau didn’t crowd her, and he didn’t rush. He tasted her with shallow licks that served to multiply her hunger instead of sate it. Devyn hadn’t truly realized until then how much she’d missed this—his warmth, his strength, the feeling of safety within his arms. The kiss turned her knees soft, and when he pulled back, it was way too soon.

  He skimmed a thumb over her bottom lip and whispered, “I’d better go find Marc.”

  Dizzied by the rush of sensation, it took Devyn a moment to understand. “Oh, right. So you can call the police.”

  “Mind if I borrow your phone?” Beau asked. “I need the video.”

  She handed it over. Now seemed like the time to leave, but she couldn’t control her feet. They remained planted firmly in front of Beau’s hard body. “Need anything else?”

  He flashed a downright scandalous grin that answered the question, then stepped around her and left to find his brother. Alone in the security room, Devyn heard the mental echo of Beau’s words from days earlier.

  Knock on my door when you’re ready for the real deal. I’ll make you glad you came.

  As if to make the decision for her, Devyn’s hands curled into fists—prepared to knock on thin air if it would bring him back to her. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold out.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 13

  They never caught Cowboy Casanova on camera, but the bastard’s girlfriend sang like a diva as soon as Beau and Marc pulled her into the security office and showed her the evidence of her theft.

  Jill confessed that her role in the scheme was to palm one chip at a time, then pass off the haul to her lover so he could cash them out at the end of the night. Being a high roller, the cowboy wouldn’t raise any suspicions with a few hundred-dollar chips in his possession. The couple had agreed to split the earnings, and they’d done it for a cheap thrill—just like Devyn had said.

  “I always knew that guy was a bubble off level,” Beau told Marc while watching the police handcuff the pair of lovers. Since the Belle wouldn’t dock in Saint Louis for another day, Marc had made an emergency stop south of the city. “Never pegged him for a thief, though.”

  Under the dim glow of the dock lighting, Marc nodded at the cowboy’s wife as she followed the police down the bow ramp, already on her cell phone with a local attorney. “I can’t believe she’s gonna bail him out.”

  Beau had no trouble believing it. His mother would have done the same thing. Some people had more loyalty than sense.

  “Anyway,” Marc said, clapping Beau on the shoulder. “I’m heading back to the pilothouse. Tell Devyn thanks for me.”

  “Will do.”

  Beau imagined all the sinfully creative ways he’d like to thank Devyn for her help and they made his johnson twitch. But he kept those thoughts to himself as he returned to his suite for the night. He’d finally drawn her out of her protective shell, and the last thing he planned to do was lose ground by pushing too hard.

  She would come to him when she was ready.

  • • •

  Once he returned to his suite, he distracted himself with a warm shower before slipping on a pair of boxer briefs and turning off the light. He was halfway to the bed when someone knocked on his door.

  It was probably Marc. The police had promised to call with a case number and the name of the investigator they’d be working with. Beau swung open the door and felt his eyebrows jump. He hadn’t expected to find Devyn on the other side, shifting on her socked feet and blinking at him as if she’d come to the wrong room.

  She wore long pajama pants paired with a tank top, and because Beau was a red-blooded man with a functioning pair of eyes, he immediately noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her pert nipples puckered beneath the white cotton top, which was so transparent she might as well not bother wearing it.

  Jesus, she’d walked through the halls in this getup?

  “Get in here.” He ushered her inside while glancing up and down the hallway. “I hope no one saw you.”

  She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Why?”

  “Your top,” he said. “It’s practically see-through. What are you doing running around in your pajamas anyway?”

  Her lips parted, and she gaped at him while her cheeks darkened. “You . . . you said . . .” Abruptly, she turned and reached for the doorknob. “Never mind.”

  Realization struck Beau between the eyes like a hollow-point bullet, leaving his brain foggy and his heart scrambling to catch up. Had she come here for him? Still stunned, he slapped a palm against the door to keep her from opening it.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “Did you come to spend the night?”

  Still facing away, she tensed her shoulders.

  “Damn it, Dev. Don’t torture me.” He flipped on the light so he could read her body language. “If that’s why you’re here, you’d better say so.”

  “Maybe it was a bad idea,” she whispered.

  Bracing his other hand on the door, he leaned in to press the length of his body against her, then bent low enough to nuzzle her ear. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he murmured. A shiver passed through her at the contact, telling him she didn’t want to leave. “I promise I won’t bite . . . hard.”

  She peeked at him and pulled her hair to one side. “What if I ask you to?”

  By way of answer, he sank his teeth into the curve of her shoulder and made her gasp. He soothed the injury with his tongue while skimming both palms down the length of her bare arms. When she was pliable enough to sink to the floor, he turned her to face him.

  “Do you want to be here?” he asked.

  She nodded. “You know I do.”

  “If we get in that bed,” he said, “you won’t leave until the sun comes up. Understood?”

  Her pale blue eyes came alive with desire, and she nodded again.

  “And you’ll do everything I say.”

  Judging by her sudden intake of breath, she seemed to like that. “Yes. Everything.”

  “Good,” he said, jutting his chin toward the other side of the room. “Go pull back the covers. Then take off your clothes and lie down on your back.” He stayed where he was, leaning a shoulder against the wall to watch her carry out his commands while he grew harder by the instant.

  Her movements were slow and seductive as she tugged back the comforter and top sheet. Facing away from him, she peeled off her tank and dropped it to the floor. Her pajama bottoms and lacy panties soon followed. She stayed like that for another heartbeat before coyly glancing at him over one shoulder.

  “On the bed,” Beau told her. “Faceup.”

  With a fl
ush of excitement on her cheeks, she crawled across the mattress and settled somewhere in the middle, then lay back, resting her head on his pillow.

  Saints alive, she was breathtaking.

  Beau had seen her naked before, many times. But the decade they’d spent apart had rounded her hips and thickened her thighs, making her painfully feminine in a way no eighteen-year-old could compete. The teenage Devyn had been sexy—no doubt about it—but the grown-up Devyn would bring any man to his knees.

  This was a woman, not a girl.

  “Raise your arms.” His voice had darkened with lust. “Grab the headboard and stretch out so I can see all of you.”

  When she did as she was told, Devyn arched her back like a cat, lifting her exposed breasts in a tantalizing offer he couldn’t refuse. Beau left his place by the wall and stretched out on the bed beside her, propping on one elbow to admire the view. The scent of vanilla lotion carried on her flushed olive skin, so warm and smooth and tempting. He longed to strip off his briefs and lower himself onto her, but Beau had waited ten years for this moment. Even if it killed him, he would take his time and savor each sensation.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered, and she obeyed.

  Starting at her throat, he trailed a worshipful hand down her chest until he reached the outside swell of her breast. There, he skimmed his knuckles over her velvet skin and then took her fully into his palm, lightly squeezing, testing the delicious weight of her. A growl of appreciation rumbled in his throat.

  “You’re beautiful, Devyn.” So beautiful that he almost couldn’t stand it. Looking at her was like trying to stare at the sun. He bent his mouth to her ear and breathed, “Even more spectacular than I remember.”

  The last time he’d tasted her pink nipples, he was too young to appreciate their unmatchable texture—smooth enough to shame silk—or how instantly they’d bead inside his mouth. Now he knew what he’d been missing, and he took one between his lips to reacquaint himself.