Except tonight, she didn’t play like that. She played loose and carefree on the outside, laughing and joking, and mixing a drink here or there at the restaurant Liam was slated to open in two weeks.
Speakeasy, he was calling it, and the place was gorgeous. There were booths in fine brown leather, and gorgeous oak tables, as well as a long, polished wooden bar. She loved that he hadn’t gone with the overly slick look of so many bars and restaurants these days that draped themselves in chrome and steel. This restaurant was classy and warm, with rich red-framed abstract prints on the walls, and burgundy stools at the bar.
Liam finished dealing to Cam, then slapped down the last card for Klausman. He picked up his cards and considered them, his cold blue eyes on the hand in front of him. He’d never be the type invited into Charlie’s games; he wasn’t an easy target. Julia held her own cards, not too tight, not too loose, as Clay rested a hand absently on her thigh. His white button-down shirtsleeves were rolled up, showing off his fabulous forearms. He wore his purple tie, knotted loosely. His lucky tie, he’d called it. He puffed on a cigar, looking sexy and oh-so-masculine doing so.
But she wasn’t focused on him right now. Her real focus was on Klausman, and she tried to study him, to gage his next move.
“Well, this is just a shit hand,” Cam said out of nowhere, slapping his cards down with a loud smack, and shaking his head. “I’m so out I’m beyond out. They’re going to need a new word for how out I am in this round.” He brought the cigar he was smoking back to his mouth.
Julia smiled faintly at Clay’s lawyer friend. He was exactly as Clay had described: big personality, big voice, lit up the room. He even smoked grandly, puckering his lips around his cigar and taking deep inhales.
“So, Miss Julia,” he said, “what is your favorite drink to make? Absolute favorite in the entire universe of spirits?”
“How about you let the woman play?” Clay said, as Klausman pushed a black chip to the center of the table, muttering that he was in.
Cam’s eyebrows rose at Clay’s question. “What? Your woman can’t talk and play cards at the same time?”
Julia raised her eyes. “ Champagne for happiness. Whiskey for loneliness. And vodka for anything else,” she answered as she slid a chip into the pile.
Cam blew out a long stream of smoke, making rings with his big mouth. “Well, look at that. She’s a poet. That was fucking beautiful. Was that not a beautiful ode to drinking?” Cam glanced around the table, at Liam, at Michele, at Klausman and at Clay, waiting for them to respond to his question
“It was lyrical,” Liam said, glancing up from his cards to flash one of his charmer smiles. It was so clear he was an actor, because he had that it factor, the charisma that made him shine on stage. “Like a gorgeous soliloquy.” Tossing a chip into the mix, he turned to Michele who stayed in the round yet again, even though she hadn’t once won. Julia had to give her credit. The woman wasn’t backing down, even though she’d had nothing decent all night, and could barely play. But she had iron nerves, and kept on ticking. Even Liam, who couldn’t keep his hands off her, hadn’t distracted her from her cards. Not when he nuzzled her neck, ran his fingers through her hair, or flirted like a movie star with her.
“I’m gonna drink to your ode to drinking,” Cam said, holding up a glass in a toast across the table.
Julia raised an imaginary glass. “Cheers,” she said, and soon it was time for hands to be revealed.
Clay went first, laying down his cards: only a ten high.
“Oh, you bluffing bastard!” Cam shouted. “Did you actually think you were going to win with that?”
He simply shrugged, and the corner of his lips quirked up. His secret? He was protecting her secret. “Man’s gotta try,” Clay said dryly, leaning back in his chair. He ran a finger over Julia’s thigh as she placed her cards on the table, showing her pair of sevens.
“Lucky sevens,” she said proudly, then she noticed Michele looking at her. Or rather, at her leg. At the exact spot where Clay’s hand was, as he ran his finger across the fabric of her stocking. Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe there was something more to the stare.
Meanwhile, Klausman laid down his cards, and he had a pair of fives.
A phone rang, and Liam reached into his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he said, “My film agent. Let me go take this.” He rose.
“Wait. Liam, what do you have?” Michele asked.
He waved off his hand. “I got jack shit. That’s what I got. You show them my hand,” he said, bending down to kiss Michele on the forehead. She tilted her face up and let out a small murmur. Maybe she did like him.
After he left, she shrugged and said, “I guess it’s my turn. And I think I might have won my first hand,” she said, showing two kings.
Julia’s chest tightened and annoyance threaded its way through her body. Damn. The last person she’d expected to win was Michele. But then she told herself to let go of the annoyance. This was poker, and you didn’t win every hand. Besides, she was having fun not playing with Skunk watching over her. Not having to show her cleavage to take down a VC. She had her eye on the prize, and she planned to snag the brass ring of victory, and then march into the breakfast meeting with Charlie tomorrow, shove the greenbacks in his face, and tell him to kiss the fuck off.
Klausman pushed back from the table. “Since there’s a break in the action, I’ll take a break.”
Julia turned to Cam, who was finishing his scotch. “Want another?”
“I would love one,” he said.
Michele waggled her empty glass. “I could use another. I’ll join you.”
“Sure. We’ll make it a ladies night behind the bar.”
* * *
She was beautiful. She could hold her liquor. And she’d known him for years.
“Here’s your scotch,” Julia said, sliding the glass to Michele, who brought it to her lips and took a swallow.
Julia knew she shouldn’t be jealous, not after what she and Clay had shared, but this woman was here. In New York City. She could see her man anytime she wanted to. Julia studied her as she drank, that pretty brown hair, those gorgeous brown eyes, and her body. But she fought back the sliver of envy that snaked through her. She’d never been the jealous type. Had never been the insecure type either, and she certainly wasn’t going to start down that road tonight. Women didn’t need to battle each other or be bitchy.
“You two seem pretty happy,” Michele offered once they were out of earshot of the men.
“I suppose you could say that,” Julia said with a grin. “And what about you and Liam? He’s rather fond of you.”
“Oh. He’s great,” Michele said quickly. Too quickly.
“When did you start seeing him?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“He’s very sweet. And quite a charmer.”
“You and Clay haven’t been together for very long either, have you?” Michele asked. She clearly had no interest in discussing Liam.
“Two months.”
“That’s really not much, is it?”
“I don’t know. Is it? Isn’t it? Sometimes I think it takes all the time in the world, and sometimes it takes no time,” she said.
“You’re crazy about him, aren’t you?” Michele said, and her voice sounded sad.
Julia rested her elbows on the bar. “I am. Absolutely. In every way.”
“I can tell,” she said, casting her eyes down at her glass.
“I’m glad it’s obvious. Are you okay, though? You look . . .” Her voice trailed off as her bartender instincts to listen to patrons’ woes kicked in.
Michele raised her eyes, and fixed them on Julia. “I want him to be happy,” she said firmly. “My brother and I care deeply for him. We’ve been friends ever since college.” Then she added, “Clay and I.”
“He mentioned you went to school together.”
“He was there for me when I was having a hard time with my parents’ death.”
“I�
��m so sorry to hear that.”
“It was a while ago. But I had a hard time with it in college, and he was there for me,” she said, and it was the second time she’d voiced that word – college. She glanced over at Clay as he chatted with Cam, blowing streams of smoke. Clay reached for his phone, flicking his thumb across the screen casually. Strange for him to be on his phone, Julia thought; he rarely was. But then he put it away quickly.
“I’m glad he was there for you,” she said, and Michele simply nodded, barely listening as she looked at Clay. That’s when it hit her—it hadn’t been a mere coincidence when Michele had watched his hand on her thigh earlier in the game. It wasn’t a coincidence at all. It was a sign of longing, and now Julia knew something about Michele that Clay didn’t know. Something that Michele had been hiding for years.
Or maybe he did know that she longed for him. Maybe he simply hadn’t told Julia yet.
That possibility pissed her off, but somehow she’d have to use it to fuel the game.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Two hours later, she’d pushed thoughts of Michele aside. Clay was with her and only her. Julia might be possessive, but she was not a jealous woman. How could she be jealous when she was closer to her goal? She was almost halfway to the prize, and Liam was making bigger and bigger bets. God bless an actor like him. He was simply flush with cash and didn’t seem to mind parting ways with it.
She revealed her two aces, and Liam laughed, shaking his head. “Got me again,” he said, shoving all the chips to Julia since everyone else was out for this hand.
Another step closer. She felt buoyant, bubbles rising to the surface. She could do this. She could win on her terms. Be free of her debt. The way she wanted to, by clawing her way out of her troubles. The prospect of not having to rely on Clay’s bailout sent a surge of adrenaline through her. She didn’t want a safety net. Her blood pumped faster, turbocharged with anticipation. She could taste freedom on her tongue, like sweet sugary crystals, and that drove her as they played another round, then another, and each time, she added to her totals.
Clay leaned in to nuzzle her neck. “You’re winning, gorgeous. I knew you would.”
“Don’t jinx me,” she said softly.
“No jinxes. Just complete confidence in you.”
A blast of pride raced through her. He was proud of her because she was good, because she’d earned it. Clay was the opposite of her ex. Dillon had taken her for a ride and fooled her. Clay was upfront about everything, and he believed in her. He’d never try to hoodwink her. “I’m glad you feel that way about me,” she said as he knocked back a scotch. “Want me to freshen that up for you?”
“No, bring me a Purple Snow Globe or a Heist. The drink you named for me. Or wait. I have a better idea. Make me a new drink and call it the Long Distance Lover,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
She laughed. “You want me to whip up an impromptu cocktail? You don’t even like mixed drinks.”
“I might if you made me one, but I’d probably just want to lick it off of you,” he said, his dark eyes raking over her.
“You’re drunk.”
“I assure you, I would lick it off you sober, drunk, bone-tired, or sick as a dog,” he whispered in her ear, flicking the tip of his tongue over her earlobe.
“I’m changing your name to Captain PDA.”
“What can I say? I have my woman here with me, and I’m out with my good friends. All is well in the world,” he said, then pulled back to catch Liam’s attention across the table.
“Liam, we have a bartender in the house. Let her show you how much you wish you had her drinks on your menu here at Speakeasy.”
Julia rolled her eyes, and pushed his shoulder. He grabbed her and kissed her on the lips.
“Man, do I need to book you a room at the Plaza?” Cam said, slamming his hand on the table.
“Yeah, ‘cause we know you have connections everywhere,” Clay said.
“Hey, I told you I got out of that racket.”
“Well, you two boys just keep up the chest thumping, and I’ll go a-mixing,” Julia said, heading to the bar. She perused the offerings, considering gin, vodka and rum, then decided to start with a tequila as the base, adding in some fruity mixers, a little lemon soda and then something special—a secret ingredient. She held up a glass when she was done. “Who wants to be my guinea pig for the Long Distance Lover?”
Liam raised a hand, waving broadly. “My place. I go first.” He trotted over to the bar, brought the glass to his lips, and tasted. “Mmm, this is superb,” he said, smacking his lips. “You’re like a mad scientist of the liquorian variety.”
“Call me a chemist. I’m all about new flavors,” she said with a big smile.
“You need to text me the recipe.”
She shook her head. “A good bartender doesn’t give up her recipes for free.”
“Then give me your number and we’ll make a deal for it.”
She pointed her finger at him playfully. “Now you’re talking,” she said, and rattled off her number.
Liam spun around and used his big stage voice to call out to the table. “Everyone needs one of these.”
After whipping up more cocktails, she returned to the table and served drinks to the rest of the players.
“Mmm, I love it,” Clay said to her after he tasted the drink. He was pretty carefree and happy. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening him up. Or maybe it was because she was winning. He pulled her into his lap.
“Since when do you like mixed drinks?”
Julia looked up to see Michele asking Clay the pointed question.
“Every now and then I like to break out of my habits,” he said.
“You’re always a scotch drinker,” the brunette added pointedly, and there was something protective in Michele’s voice. Almost like a lover, or an ex. An ex who knew things about someone. “You were never like that in college.”
“I was never a lot of things in college.”
College. Julia’s ears pricked at that word. Why on earth did Michele keep hearkening back to college with Clay?
“You were some things,” Michele said.
“C’mon, enough about drinks and college. Time to deal,” Klausman said gruffly, and started doling out the cards.
Julia slid off Clay’s lap and back to her own chair. Focus, she told herself. She was almost there. She had to keep riding this wave of luck and skill to the tune of another few thousand dollars and she’d be free and clear.
She appraised her cards, and soon the betting began. Then the strangest thing happened. Michele won the next hand. And the next. And the next. With each successive win, Julia grew more tense, and she noticed Clay’s light-and-easy mood slip away. He was no longer leaning casually in his chair. He was more focused on the game, his eyes shifting back and forth, and he kept looking at his watch too. The ticking clock, winding down to Charlie.
Michele cleaned up once more with a full house that made Clay sit up straight in his chair and reach into his back pocket. Maybe for his phone. But then he stopped, resting his hands on the table, and checking out Julia’s dwindling stack of chips.
By the time the woman who’d known him since college had sliced Julia’s winnings in half, she was ready to lunge at her and it had nothing to do with her staring at Clay, but everything to do with how jealous Julia was of Michele’s hands all over the money she needed.
She probably didn’t even need it. She’d probably use it for a goddamn spa weekend, not to pay off a mob boss.
“I swear it’s beginner’s luck,” Michele said with the kind of laugh that sparkled. A pure laugh, a happy laugh, but it grated on her to no end because Julia wanted those chips to herself. “I have no clue how to play.”
“What are you going to use your money for, baby?” Liam said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. “Take me out someplace nice, will ya? I want to go to the Bahamas again.”
“Yes, and have your picture taken by someone trying to sell you real e
state.”
Julia latched onto one word—Bahamas. And it nagged at her brain. “My ex is probably in the Bahamas,” she muttered.
Clay’s eyes snapped up. “Dillon?”
She shrugged. “He always said he wanted to go there,” she said in a low voice.
“He did?” Clay whispered.
“Yeah, but everyone wants to go there. He could be anywhere,” she said, and something inside of Julia coiled tightly, like a viper rising through her chest. Maybe it was her mention of Dillon. Maybe it was Michele’s carefree way with money. Or maybe it was the simple fact that when Liam kissed Michele’s neck, her eyes didn’t flutter closed. She didn’t part her lips to sigh. And she didn’t slide her body closer to his.
Instead, Michele peered out of the corner of her eye at Clay. And the look in her brown eyes was one of such deep longing, and something more. Something much more. In a blinding moment of clarity, Julia no longer sensed that Clay hadn’t been truthful about their relationship. She knew. There was something more to them, and she didn’t care about the game, or the money, or Charlie. She cared about whether she’d been played again.
She pushed back from the table. “Excuse me,” she said, and she tapped his shoulder and cleared her throat. “I need to step outside for a second, and get some fresh air.”
“I’ll join you,” he said, rising and resting his hand on her lower back as she walked to the door, pushed hard on it, and then felt the rush of warm night air on her face. It was close to midnight, and the city was still lively, cars and cabs and people racing by.
“What happened in college between you and Michele?” She crossed her arms.
“What?” he said, blinking his eyes.
“Were you involved with her?”
After This Night Page 12