Friday Night Chicas

by Mary Castillo

  Tori told herself to yank her gaze away from him and back to the game. The last thing she needed was a distraction. But something went haywire in her brain for she was suddenly saying, “Gracias.”

  “For what?” he asked in that soft, sweet voice.

  “Not breaking up my hand.”

  He shrugged impossibly broad shoulders and worse, gave a hesitant kind of grin. “De nada. It was worth it to see you smile.”

  Which only made her smile broader until the sensible part in her brain screamed, “Player!”

  He was just too handsome and too suave, although she sensed something.… She didn’t know what, only her lawyer’s antennae were tingling, telling her that he maybe wasn’t what he seemed, just as she wasn’t the very collected and chic woman she appeared to be at first glance.

  Instead of allowing it to go further, she picked her chin up a defiant notch as if to say, That little line won’t work on me, and turned her attention back to the game.

  And his hands. While she could keep her eyes glued to the green felt of the gaming table, it was impossible not to see his hands. The way they held the cards—sure and confidently. How he moved the pads of his fingers against the soft surface of the table in a calming kind of motion as he played.

  She picked up her glass and before drinking took a sniff. There had to be something in there for her to be imagining again how her Papi Chulo might use those hands on her. Maybe it had been too long since she had released some of her sexual tension.

  Taking a deep bracing drink, which only cooled her off a little, she forced herself to focus on the cards. He had proven himself a capable player and she trusted he wouldn’t blow her game. And if she missed a card or two—well, some would say it had been a lucky couple of hands. So if there was such a thing as luck, she would rely on that luck to make up for not seeing what cards he was playing because that was the only way she could avoid seeing his hands. And therefore ignore how much she wanted him to put those hands on her.

  Maybe there is such a thing as luck, she thought, as she won round after round and the pile of chips before her grew steadily, as did the pile of chips beside her. In front of him.

  “A lucky night,” she said out loud, surprising herself with the saying of it.

  There was a long silence after her words, almost as if everything around her had gone into superslow motion.

  And then came the brush of his shoulder against hers and the warm spill of his breath against the side of her face as he leaned close and asked, “Just how lucky are you feeling?”

  Chapter Seven

  Her heart did a funny little lurch in the middle of her chest. She took a deep breath, held it as she turned and found him barely inches away. It would take only the slightest of movements for her to brush his jaw with her lips.

  At the realization that this was a major—but intriguing—invasion of her personal space, she pulled back just a fraction, but refused to give any other kind of quarter. “Very lucky,” she replied, defiance in her voice.

  “All this winning is almost boring. I like more of a contest, don’t you?”

  The gauntlet had been tossed. She met his gaze and saw the dare there, along with something else: uncertainty. He didn’t think she’d take him up on it and normally she wouldn’t. But she had promised herself to make this night different. Special. And she suddenly liked the challenge of him. “Definitely.”

  Facing the dealer, she pushed her chips his way. “Cash me out, please.”

  “The same,” she heard from beside her.

  The dealer quickly exchanged the table chips for casino chips. She picked up her winnings as did the Papi Chulo, and when she rose and headed to the cashier, he followed. After they had their cash in hand, he said, “What’s your pleasure?”

  Pleasure? Him in bed. Naked and willing immediately came to mind, but she battled those thoughts away. “Do you feel lucky?” she asked.

  He slipped his hands into his pants pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, as if not quite sure of his answer. Of what to do. “Maybe,” he said then shrugged.

  She chuckled, liking that this gorgeous and seemingly self-assured man was a little wary around her. “Why only maybe?”

  “You know what they say. Lucky at cards—”

  “Unlucky at love,” she finished for him, reminded of the discussion earlier that evening with her friends.

  “So maybe I’d prefer to be not so lucky at cards—”

  “And improve your luck in other areas,” she jumped in once more and felt heat rising to her cheeks. Again.

  “Are you game?” he said and held out his hand, opening it to reveal a gleaming half-dollar. “Heads or tails?”

  She narrowed her eyes as she glanced at the coin and then back up at him. “And the winner—”

  “Gets to pick what we do right now.”

  “And after?” she asked, a little intrigued by the possibilities in their private game of chance.

  “We let the cards decide,” he replied, then straightened and patted his pockets. There was a moment of confusion on his face and she asked, “Something wrong?”

  “I don’t have a deck of cards,” he admitted and looked around as if to see where he could get one.

  Tori knew. She reached out and laid a hand on the sleeve of his arm. “Don’t worry. I believe there’s a deck back in my stateroom.”

  A surprised look crossed his features, as if he couldn’t believe what she’d just said. “Your room?” There was a little bit of a croak in his voice and he gulped.

  Boldness swept through her, not unlike what she’d felt as she was dressing earlier. “That isn’t a problem, is it?”

  “N-n-o. N-not at all,” he stammered, then said, “Heads or tails?” He flipped the coin in the air and she called out, “Heads.”

  He caught the coin and turned it onto the back of his hand to reveal tails. “We can do this again,” he said and gallantly prepared to flip the coin once more, but Tori reached out and stopped him.

  “Your choice. What would you like to do? Right now.” She knew what she crazily wanted—for him to lean over and kiss her. Only he didn’t. Instead, he nervously fingered the coin before slipping it into his pocket. Again he rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment before he said, “I’m no Ricky Martin, but I’d like to dance.”

  His hesitation and humility were refreshing. And way more sexy than bravado would have been. And his choice—a nice way not to rush into anything. It told her that he was a patient man. That was good. She stepped to his side, slipped her arm through his, and said, “I’d like that as well.”

  * * *

  He was no Ricky Martin, but that was okay because she was no Christina Aguilera. And he was way better than those guys who did the drunk dad dance. Not that it had mattered since after the first couple of pop songs, the band had launched into a set of slow dances.

  Wonderful slow dances. At first her Papi was charmingly cavalier and kept his distance, but little by little they drifted closer together. Now, you couldn’t slip a sheet of paper between them and that was just fine as far as Tori was concerned. She liked the feel of his body, all lean and hard, moving against hers. And his hands, holding her in just the right places. One hand at the small of her back, pressing lightly to keep her close. Another in the middle of her back, his palm rough against her bare skin.

  Again her mind drifted to her earlier naughty thoughts and she inhaled deeply to quell them, but instead smelled that sexy scent of his. She inched away and glanced up at him. There was a small smile on his face and as he met her gaze, he asked, “Still feeling lucky?”

  “Hmm,” she answered. “And you?”

  “I won the first toss, remember?”

  “Cocky, aren’t you?” she teased.

  He shifted away slowly, reached into his pants—which did nothing but emphasize the telltale bulge that was getting her attention—and withdrew the coin again. Without waiting for her, he flipped the coin and she stuck to her earli
er call. “Heads.”

  Grinning, he revealed the face of the coin and said, “Heads. You were lucky this time.”

  “Actually, it’s not luck. Given the fact that there are only two possible outcomes, the odds are that—”

  She didn’t get a chance to finish as he leaned over and kissed her into silence. There was no uncertainty or hesitation in the way he moved his lips against hers or drew her to him.

  Tori went willingly, opening her mouth against his.

  “It’s your call,” he said in between small bites of her lips.

  “Call?” she murmured while she kissed her way to the side of his face. He shifted his attention to that ultrasensitive spot in the crook of her neck and dragged a moan from her.

  “Cards? Another flip of the coin?” he whispered against her ear.

  Rational thought chose an inopportune time to return. She pulled away from him and considered that it was impossible that she was actually standing here, making out with a total stranger, albeit a very attractive and obviously willing total stranger. This wasn’t her. This was that other Tori. Sinfully Sexy Tori. Having a heck of a time and can’t wait to see where it goes next Tori, she decided. “Cards. In my room. If you’d like, that is.”

  “I’d like very much.” He nodded, followed her toward the exit of the discotheque, but as they reached the door, he laid a hand on her arm, stopping her.

  She turned to face him. He was dangling something small and black on his finger. Something that looked suspiciously like …

  “I think you dropped … this,” he said with a wry grin as his gaze skittered from the small piece of fabric to her face.

  “It’s not what you think.” She vaguely recollected snagging her bracelet on something in her purse. Now she knew what it had been. She snatched the blindfold from his finger and jammed it back into the side pocket of her new Prada purse.

  “Really?” he asked and raised one dark eyebrow to emphasize his point. “I think that we’re being followed by two…” He paused and looked to the side of the club.

  She tracked his gaze and noticed that he had zeroed in on Adriana, Sylvia, and Juliana, who were busy trying to appear uninterested in what was going on by the door. Tori grimaced as he continued. “Maybe even three women who are likely your friends and I suspect had something to do with the blindfold. It was a blindfold, wasn’t it?”

  “I guess it is what you were thinking. And yes, they are my friends. Soon to be ex-friends. May I have a moment?”

  He nodded and she walked toward her amigas, but as she did so, it suddenly occurred to her what she was about to do.

  Sanity returned.

  Then doubt settled in.

  By the time she reached her friends, she was wondering how she could gracefully extricate herself from her predicament.

  “I need your help,” she said and nervously glanced back toward where her Papi Chulo waited for her, before turning her attention back to her friends.

  Sylvia shot a quick look over Tori’s shoulder. “I’d say you’re doing fine without us.”

  Tori raised her hands and insistently waved for her friend to stop. “This is not funny, Sylvia. I don’t know what I was thinking—”

  “That you were finally going to have some fun?” Adriana interrupted.

  “Fun? This isn’t about fun, chicas. I’m about to take a total stranger to my room—”

  Sylvia clapped her hands together. “Dios, but that’s better than we hoped for.”

  “This is crazy, isn’t it? Tell me it’s crazy,” Tori pleaded and turned toward Juli, who she hoped would be sensible.

  Juli looked toward the door of the discotheque and Tori tracked her gaze as she said, “He seems … very nice.”

  Her Papi Chulo was waiting patiently by the door. When he noticed she was looking his way, he smiled, displaying a deep dimple in his cheek. Does he have to do that? She liked dimples. They were so “I’m-a-nice-guy, regular-José kind of thing.”

  “What’s his name?” Adriana asked.

  “No se—”

  “You don’t know his name?” Juli asked nervously.

  “Well, call him Mister Campbells,” Sylvia said.

  “Why?” Juli asked.

  “Because he is ‘Mmm, Mmm, good,’” Sylvia finished.

  Tori rolled her eyes and faced Adriana. “This is insane.”

  Sylvia took a step toward the door. “Well, if you don’t intend on—”

  Tori held a hand up to stop her, annoyed by the possibility that Sylvia would too eagerly exchange places with her. “Don’t even think about it, Syl.”

  “Too late,” her friend teased.

  Tori examined each of her friends, then shook her head, realizing they would be of no assistance. She turned and walked back to where her Papi Chulo stood and strode out the door of the club, leaving him no choice but to follow, but she heard his amused chuckle as she did so.

  She shot him a glare over her shoulder to try to regain some aspect of control, but he only grinned back at her, unfazed. Tori vowed to find a way to exact revenge. Delicious, blindfolded kind of revenge.

  Which started heating body parts that hadn’t gone beyond lukewarm for years and caused her heart to do a funky little mambo beat in the middle of her chest.

  And that in turn caused her to begin that mantra again. The I’m Sinfully Sexy and All Fun Tori tonight. An ask-no-names, take-all-chances kind of Tori. A lucky-at-cards, lucky-at-love kind of Tori. It was possible after all. Who believed in such lame sayings anyway?

  She ignored the annoying little voice in her head that said she did.

  Chapter Eight

  The area by her stateroom was empty, providing a perfect place for viewing the spectacle brought about by the impossibly full moon as it silvered the ocean, creating a shimmering mirror before them. The sea was remarkably calm. Tonight there was barely a breeze and the ship was sailing along smoothly.

  Her papi paused, bracing his hands on the polished brass of the railing. Tori stood beside him uneasily, juggling the strap of her purse and the stateroom key in her hand. Some of her hesitation still remained and she wondered whether he had any reservations or sensed hers.

  Turning, he said, “Beautiful, isn’t it,” only she knew he wasn’t referring to the lunar sensation. She quickly realized that he was grateful for the diversion provided by nature. Her lawyer’s antennae again, picking up on his indecision. It intrigued her and dispelled some of her earlier misgivings.

  She nodded and he took a step close to her, raised his hand, and cupped her cheek. The palm of his hand was slightly rough. “I know you won the toss, but do you mind if we take a moment before we play our game?”

  “No, not at all.” Was that her voice sounding so husky? Sexy even? She smiled, and he traced the edges of that smile with his thumb, then slipped his hand down, cupped her chin, and applied the faintest amount of pressure until she was looking up at him.

  He was glancing down at her, the blue of his eyes now glittering like the moon-silvered sea just beyond the railing. He lowered his head, coming closer and closer. She was suddenly hearing bells going off. It took her a moment to realize someone had opened a door on one of the gaming decks below them and the bells were from one of the slot machines announcing a winner.

  “Someone just won,” she whispered.

  He grinned, revealing that cute dimple, but didn’t retreat from his approach. Nor did he rush. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers then lightly touched his lips to hers as he said, “But you don’t believe in luck, do you?”

  “No. I—”

  “Believe in the odds,” he challenged as he finally covered her mouth with his.

  His kiss this time was a little more demanding, almost as if daring her to prove him wrong. The problem was, Tori liked the way he moved his mouth on hers. The taste of him, sweet and slightly minty, like the mojito he had drunk earlier that night.

  Tori moved nearer, pressing herself to his body, enjoying the strength of him.
And the barest hint of a moan that came against her mouth as she shifted her hips against his arousal. That faint sound brought some small bit of sanity back to her.

  Forcing herself to withdraw from the delicious sensations he was creating, she said, “Odds are we’ll get arrested if we continue this outside.”

  He chuckled and laid a hand on the railing. It trembled. He stuffed his other hand into his pants pockets, after unbuttoning his jacket as if it were suddenly too tight. “So maybe it’s time to continue our game … inside.”

  Tori reached up, cupped his cheek. The start of an evening beard was sandpapery beneath her palm. “I believe we said, cards. Is poker acceptable?”

  He nodded, but as she began to walk away, he grabbed hold of her hand. When she turned to face him, he was grinning broadly, the dimple a deep slash on the side of his face. “Hearts are wild, though. It somehow seems appropriate, doesn’t it?”

  She couldn’t control her own smile, nor the slightly erratic beat of her heart as she imagined just where these games might lead. “Definitely,” she answered and opened the door to her stateroom.

  * * *

  Her amigas had been at it again. Tori should have been angry at their manipulations. Instead, she grudgingly admired their forethought.

  A dozen red roses were in a vase on the nightstand beside the bed. Cheese, crackers, and strawberries were on a small platter on the table by the window, along with a standing wine cooler where another bottle of Cristal nestled in a bed of ice.

  As her Papi Chulo took in the preparations, he crooked one eyebrow again. “An ex-Girl Scout by chance?”

  Tori chuckled. “Always be prepared, ¿verdad? I wish I could say I’d thought of all of this, but I must give credit where credit is due.”

  He placed a hand on the small of her back as he leaned toward the table, snagged a strawberry, and brought it to her lips. “The blindfold friends strike again?”

  “Hmm,” she said as she took a bite of the strawberry. Juice dribbled onto her lips and he wasted not a moment to lick them free of strawberry remains.