by Nella Tyler
But that didn't mean I had to go falling for him, did it?
*
I didn't see Ben for the remainder of the week. I wasn't quite sure how that made me feel. As my head cleared after our night of decadent drinking and sex, I did begin to remember more bits and pieces of what had happened. Every image that flashed in my mind either made me gasp in dismay or shock at myself and my behavior, but I also experienced a sense of thrilled pride that I had been able to match Ben in regard to sexual charisma and energy. I began to better appreciate the short time we had spent together as a brief interlude in my otherwise boring life, but nothing more than that. He had been nice, he was more than handsome, and he was great at sex, but other than that, I didn't know anything about him.
The thought that he might – just maybe – be counting cards pretty much got pushed to the back of my mind. Maybe he was just lucky. Maybe he was just really good at Blackjack. People who played Blackjack their whole lives were very good at it, they won often, and it didn't mean that they were cheaters.
As the days passed, however, and I didn't hear a thing from him, not even a text message to ask me how I was doing, I began to waffle between concern and annoyance. I had pretty much put an end to our sleeping together, but I hadn't put an end to our casual friendship, had I? Just because we couldn't sleep together anymore didn't mean that he couldn't come into the casino, so why hadn't he? I did appreciate the fact that he wasn’t making the breakup, if that's what it could be called, difficult on me, but at the same time, I was curious why he didn't come back to the casino at all.
"You're a million miles away, girlfriend."
I started, and then looking in the mirror over the bathroom sink at the casino, I saw Savannah standing slightly behind me, a grin on her face. "Hi, Savannah… Sorry, I guess I was daydreaming."
"I guess you were. And I can imagine about who, can't I?"
I turned around and faced her. "Here's the thing, Savannah,” I blurted. “While I told Ben that I didn't want to sleep with him again, I certainly didn't mean to imply that we weren't friends or that he couldn't come into the casino and sit at my table like he used to."
Savannah shook her head and smiled. "Honey, as far as Ben is concerned, you blew him off completely."
I frowned. "I'm not too sure about that," I said. I glanced around the ladies’ room, made sure nobody was inside, and then asked her to do a favor for me. "Would you ask around, maybe at the other casinos or something… See if he's still in town, or if he's okay?"
She grinned. "Sure I will. It might be fun to play detective for a little while, and besides, I certainly wouldn't mind catching that guy."
I thanked Savannah and then walked out of the ladies’ room, heading for my table. Shift change. While I couldn't understand exactly why Ben would think that my not wanting to sleep with him made him think I didn’t want to see him at all, at the very back of my mind, I wondered if he had gotten kicked out of the casino. After all, the pit bosses and the managers were very strict about potential cheaters.
If I wondered if Ben had indeed been caught counting cards. Maybe one of the other dealers who had dealt for him or cashed him in had passed along the word to watch out for it. Even worse, maybe one of the bosses or employees at the casino had seen me out on my date with Ben. That was severely discouraged and might risk my being fired. So either it was my fault that he wasn't showing up, or perhaps management had caught on to him cheating, or are they just didn't want a constant winner draining their coffers. Either way, Ben didn't have a lot working in his favor at the moment, and that scared me.
So imagine my surprise when I got to my table and moments later, glanced up to find Ben striding toward it, a grin on his face. He acted like nothing was wrong between us or between him and casino. I felt relieved. He just played, won a few, lost a few, chatted with the other players, and acted like normal. He didn't have a drink by his side tonight, and I wondered about that for a minute, but then decided that I was being way too curious about what he did and with whom he did it. At any rate, I was relieved to see him, glad that he wasn't in trouble, and that he hadn't felt that I had rebuffed his friendship.
While I had made the boundaries of our relationship perfectly clear, I suppose my relief showed in my demeanor and behaviors. Several times, I caught myself smiling in his direction. Once in a while, I would even glance at him when I thought no one else was looking and just stare at him for a moment. Then, after doing that one time, I quickly passed my gaze over the floor of the casino around me and realized that one of the pit bosses was watching me. My heart began to thud nervously.
Shit.
For the remainder of the hour, I was careful not to make any facial gestures whatsoever. I glanced at the players as they played, but other than that, I kept my expression blank and noncommittal. Ben seemed to be in a really good mood tonight, even though I was being a little cool toward him. I was glad that he wasn't holding any hard feelings, but I was also a little disappointed that my comment about not having sex with him anymore didn't bother him. Then again, why should it? He could probably look at any woman in the casino right now between the ages of twenty and eighty and they would be more than happy to jump into bed with him.
About three quarters of the way through my shift, Ben did order a drink, and he also ordered drinks for everyone else sitting at the table. The players seemed appreciative, whether they were winning or losing. Ben would lose a hand, but then he would win three, lose again, win two, lose again, and then he won four in a row. The win/loss pattern was erratic enough that I couldn't tell whether he was counting cards or not. If he was, he was so good at it I hadn't been able to catch him, nor had any of the other players.
Every once in awhile, I would glance up and find the pit boss watching me. His gaze made me uncomfortable. Had I tipped my hand? Had I given him any indication I had something going with Ben? God forbid he would think I was helping them cheat or something! That's all I needed. Had they found out that Savannah had taken the gift Ben had brought the other evening and given it to me? Even though I had told her I didn’t want it and she had taken it home herself?
Toward the end of my shift, it looked to me as if Ben had settled in for the night. There was a drink by his side, a lovely woman on his right, a gentleman in a cowboy hat and a string bow tie to his left, all focusing on their cards. By the time the shift switched over and I left the table, I cast one more glance back at him, only to see him embroiled in close conversation with the woman sitting next to him. I pretended I didn't care.
By the time I got outside and began to make my way toward my car, I had pretty much put thoughts of Ben and all the entanglements that came with it into an imaginary box that I was just about ready to put duct tape on and shove into the back of a closet in my mind. That's the way I dealt with situations until I had the mental stamina to get those boxes out, open them up, and deal with the contents one at a time.
I was tired. I wanted to go home and-
"Maggie, wait!"
I turned around, startled at the sound of my name, and realized that Ben was just emerging from the casino and hurrying toward me. I glanced behind him, but didn't see anyone following. I frowned. I hoped the pit boss didn't think that he and I had something going. If he did, chances were I would be called into someone's office the next time my shift started.
Keys in hand and only ten feet from my car, I waited for Ben to catch up with me. He did, sweeping his hand through his hair and then smiling at me.
"Good evening, Maggie. I didn't want to engage in too much conversation at the table tonight. Your pit boss seemed to be keeping a close eye on you and I didn't want him to think there was anything between us."
"There isn't," I said. "I mean – I mean I think of you… No, that didn't come out right. Let me-"
"I'm glad you brought it up, Maggie, because I really want to talk to you about what happened the other night."
I shrugged. "There is nothing to talk about. I appreciate the fac
t that you've been staying away, but it's not because of the sex, Ben, it's just because I'm just not ready to… I just want to keep our relationship strictly platonic and professional, okay?"
He stared at me for several moments, as if he wasn't too happy with my comment. I didn't know how else to explain it. "I don't intend for you to stay away from my Blackjack table, though, because I do enjoy seeing you there. You've become a routine part of my evening. But I just need you to understand that it can't go beyond that. I'd like to think that we’re friends-”
"But I want to be more than friends," he said, grinning.
He took a step closer to me and I stepped back. "Ben, I already told you what happened in my past. I don't want to go through that again. Ever.”
He frowned slightly. "Maggie, I don't mean to hurt your feelings or anything, but asking you to go out with me isn't exactly a marriage proposal. You do know that, don't you?"
The way he said it made me feel embarrassed, but I understood. "Yes, Ben, I understand that. The problem isn’t you, it's me. To put it quite bluntly, you're handsome, charming, and there's no girl in the world, in her right mind anyway, who wouldn't want to go out with you. But this girl's been hurt, and this girl would rather not bring suspicion, distrust, or any hesitance into any kind of relationship. You understand what I'm saying?"
"Not really," he admitted. "Maggie, we've all been hurt before. We've all been dumped, or we've dumped someone else. It's part of relationships. It's part of life. Are you going to tell me you're going to live your life like an old maid forever? Do you think that you’ll never get over the hurt that your husband dumped on you?"
I passed my gaze over his handsome features. He really was trying to understand, but it was probably a concept that was quite foreign to him. "I think that some day, yes, I'll be able to move on from it all, but right now, my life is about going to work, earning a paycheck, and paying my bills. I’m trying to be completely honest with you, Ben. I don't have the mental energy to put into any kind of a relationship."
"Maggie, I do wish you'd reconsider," he urged. "What's the matter with an occasional meal, a walk in the park, or even a movie? That doesn't sound too horrifying, does it?"
It didn't. It sounded wonderful. And I wished I could accept. I decided that blunt honesty was called for. "Ben, like I said, it's not you, it's me. You're the first guy that’s ever paid me the kind of attention that I've always wanted. It’s not about money, or fine restaurants or anything like that. You’re a nice guy. It would be so very easy to succumb to your charm, to get and wrapped in it, and comfortable with it-"
"Then what's the problem, Maggie?"
"The problem, Ben, is that sense of distrust and suspicion that swallows me up. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to me. It wouldn't take much for me to fall for you, and I'm telling you that straight up. You're a great guy. Under other circumstances, I wouldn't even hesitate to go out with you again, or even to venture to say that I wouldn't mind having sex with you again. But the truth of the matter is-"
"I get it," he interrupted gently.
"Do you?"
He nodded. "You're carrying a lot of baggage, Maggie. I'm interested in you, not just as a distraction, like you might believe, but in you, as a person. It's too bad you feel the way you do because when you start letting go of that baggage, you may find life a little more pleasant, you know?"
I nodded. I did know. "I'm working on it, Ben."
He stared at me a moment and then spoke softly. "Don't take too long to get rid of that baggage, Maggie, or you’ll find a number of wonderful opportunities that have passed you by." He glanced back toward the casino. "Well, I’ll be getting back."
I watched him go back inside the casino and then once again turned toward my car. I was ready to get back home. It'd been a long, long, shift. I wanted nothing more than to go home, jump into the shower real quick, and then flop into my bed and go to sleep.
I tried to shove Ben to the back of my thoughts, focusing instead on just getting home and falling asleep. I made my way to my apartment complex, parked, got out, and walked to my apartment. Turning the key in the lock I opened the door with a grateful sigh, then froze. I was in the wrong apartment!
I glanced down at the key in my hand and wondered how that could he possible. I looked into the apartment again. No, the window was where it was supposed to be, my pillows on the sofa were the same, but everything else was different. My apartment had been transformed.
I took a step further inside and realized the furniture was new. My old box television had been replaced by a large flat screen. Paintings hung on the wall that hadn't been there before, as well as light sconces. What the hell? I glanced toward the kitchen, my eyes widening in shock to discover presents wrapped in pretty paper and bows piled up on the kitchen table. In the kitchen itself, I saw that a new dishwasher, a new refrigerator, and new appliances had been installed. Smaller appliances crowded the countertop.
I began mumbling under my breath, not sure whether to scream or to cry or to laugh, but as I walked into my bedroom, I stopped short at the door. A four-poster bed, just like Ben’s, only on a smaller scale, had replaced mine. A brand new oak dresser replaced the old secondhand dresser I had gotten at the local thrift store when I first moved in. Almost everything, down to the soft, plush rug under my feet was new or improved.
Shocked and speechless with dismay, I returned to the living room, where I found myself turning in a slow circle looking at everything.
"What the hell?" Then I realized. Ben.
The Billionaire’s Bluff #2
Chapter 1
Exhausted and not just a little overwhelmed, I could only stare at the changes in my apartment. In the back of my mind, I wondered how the hell Ben had not only discovered my apartment number, but gotten inside. I would have to see the maintenance manager who lived in one of the downstairs apartments about that. If I didn't know any better, Ben had smoozed and used his smooth-talking ways and perhaps even offered a little bribe to get the guy to open apartment.
I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Creeped out? Not really, because I didn’t get the sense Ben was a stalker or anything like that, but what did I know? And it was a little strange – no, more than a little. I didn’t even know how to react. I was too tired right now to determine if I was oddly flattered or enraged. I felt…blank.
I didn't really want to deal with all of this – or even a small part of it – right now, so I got ready for bed, climbed between the sheets, and convinced myself that he wouldn't win me over just by buying me stuff. I couldn't be bought. I didn't want to go out with a guy just because of what he could give me or buy for me. I wasn't that kind of a person, and I wasn't about to turn into one now.
Still, for a while, sleep eluded me, regardless of my weariness. My thoughts kept drifting back to all the new things in my apartment. I did appreciate the thought behind what he had done, really I did, but in a way, it also left me feeling a little insulted. I might not have the nicest apartment or furniture or appliances in the world, but I had enough. To Ben, my apartment and my things must look downright dumpy, but I was comfortable. I wasn’t living out of my car. I made enough to pay rent, buy groceries and my utilities. Trying to put some money aside for a rainy day was a joke right now, and yes, I lived paycheck to paycheck, but I was doing better than a lot of single women out there.
I had worked hard to buy what I had, even if some of it – okay, most of it – had come from thrift stores, secondhand shops, and consignment stores. No, it wasn't the best quality, but it was adequate for me. I did what I could to make my apartment look comfortable and cozy. A few afghans and some decorative pillows did wonders to dress up the sofa and my bed. I had found a few cheap old things at an antique store that added some charm to the living room. A small end table under the window in the living room decorated with an old lantern, and the old trunk in the corner that held an assortment of colorful arm pillows. A couple of inexpensive framed posters of two of my favo
rite black and white movies: Cary Grant’s, It Happened One Night, and Mister Blandings Builds His Dream House.
So, I was comfortable and surrounded by things I wanted in my apartment; things that I had chosen, and for a reason. Ben was used to the nice things in life, the best of the best, so what had he been thinking? Was he embarrassed for me? Of me? It didn’t matter. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone and if Ben wanted to like me, he would have to like me just the way I was.
Still, I didn't want to deal with the fact that he thought he could regale me with material things and gifts in order to win my favor. That was just something I would not – could not – become comfortable with. I don’t know how he had wooed other girls, or what they had expected from him in return for their favor, but that wasn’t at all what I was about. I wasn’t about to change for anyone, not even Ben. Besides, I didn’t know what to do about all this. I had a feeling that all Ben was interested in was a rouse – the chase. Perhaps I offered him a challenge. I didn’t know and at this moment, I tried not to care.
The past few days dealing with him had been exhausting. Another of the many reasons why I had avoided dating anyone for so long. Developing, or even maintaining any kind of relationship, even a fairly superficial one like Ben and I had going, took brain juice and a lot of effort. I just didn’t feel like I had the energy. Right now, all I wanted to do was sleep. I wanted to put everything out of my mind and worry about it tomorrow. Eventually, my exhaustion overcame my racing, confused thoughts and I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
*
The following morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. No doubt about it, the new mattress was supremely comfortable, as were the new sheets and bedding. My fingers slid easily over the fabric. Then, as if my conscience got the better of me, I felt the twinge of guilt. Even while I self-consciously fingered the high thread count of the sheets, which I swear felt like melted butter, I told myself to stop. I had never owned such soft sheets. I glanced over the lightweight comforter at the base of the bed. It was lovely and suited my sense of style, what there was of it. Still, not something I would have bought for myself.