Calculating Desires (The Rockford Security Series Book 4)

by Jones, Lee Anne

  Alison’s glare was cold enough to freeze mercury. “I wasn’t stealing anything. I was trying to help you figure out the identity of your cheater.”

  “By sneaking into our private security office?”

  “No. By watching the video footage.”

  She gave him an annoyed look, like he was some naughty kid or something. The idea of her admonishing him when she was clearly at fault pissed him off. Just when he’d started to think she might be honest after all.

  “Listen,” Alison continued. “I know a lot of players on the circuit—the ones who win and the ones who want to. But I can only see the action from my table. If I had access to the bird’s eye view, I might be able to see a pattern. Who wins at what table, what they do after they win, all that. Then I could use math to calculate the probability of who might be your cheater.”

  Christ Almighty, not the frigging math again.

  Owen rubbed his eyes. “Remind me again why you want to help me?”

  “Other than the fact you’re trying to frame my best friend?”

  “No one’s trying to frame anyone. It’s my job to discover the truth.”

  “Let me look at the surveillance footage.” She stepped closer, her auburn curls bouncing. “Better yet, let me see the account ledgers.”

  “Sure. Right.” Owen scrunched his nose at her request. “And maybe I’ll let you into the vault too, help you pack up some more cash.”

  “Funny. Look, you’ve already admitted you hate math and I love it. I bet if you let me see the ledgers, I can tell you exactly who’s swindling the casino.”

  He pushed away from the door and stalked past her to his desk. “What assurance do I have you won’t point me in the wrong direction to keep yourself safe?”

  She leaned her hands on one side of his desk and met his stare direct. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “Trust you?” The words emerged harsher than he’d intended, but he was too tired to care. “Why the fuck should I trust you?”

  He leaned across his side of the desk as well, their faces mere inches apart. Her warm breath ghosted over his face and her scent—roses and cinnamon and sweet, sinful desire—made his already pounding pulse kick a notch higher. Before he realized his actions, he closed the distance between them and captured her lips with his.

  Soft, smooth, and infinitely delectable—just like he remembered.

  Her small gasp gave him the opportunity to stroke his tongue inside her mouth and taste her. She returned his kisses with every bit as much ardor, her little mewling sounds turning him on more than anything else ever had before. Way more than Faith and all her tricks…

  Faith.

  He ended the kiss abruptly. “We can’t do this.”

  Alison looked as poleaxed as he felt—all wet lips and dreamy eyes. “No shit. I didn't start it, though.”

  That sexy little catch in her voice, the breathless undertone, was almost his undoing. Owen clenched his fists at his side. "Right. And I'm stopping it, too. We have a cheater in the casino. You’re a suspect. And I don’t do cheaters.”

  The already high color in Alison’s cheeks blazed hotter. She took a step back, her jaw and shoulders tense. “For the last goddamned time, I’m not a cheater. I can show you that easily enough with a deck of cards, and if you let me see the footage and ledgers, I’ll prove that your cheater is someone else.”

  Prove it?

  Owen narrowed his gaze and forced his raging body to calm. For whatever reason, this woman pushed all of his buttons without effort. Showing her private casino records would be risky enough. Not to mention that for him, being near Alison James was far more dangerous than any roadside bomb he’d encountered in Iraq. Still, her stalwart insistence that she was innocent piqued his interest. Most people caught with their hand in the cookie jar took the easy way out—pay the fine, lose their playing privileges.

  But not his Alison.

  My Alison?

  She stared him down with steely resolve and he couldn’t help but smile.

  This detour might lead him nowhere but trouble, but damn, it would sure be one hell of a ride. “Fine. I’ll let you prove it. But not here. If I get caught showing you private internal accounting records, I’ll be in even deeper shit with the owners. Meet me at my apartment at six tonight. I’ll bring what you need.” He jotted down the address and handed it to her. “Don’t be late.”

  Nine

  At six p.m. sharp, Alison knocked on Owen’s apartment door. The building was nice enough, in a nice enough part of town too. Nothing fancy or ostentatious, the architecture fit him—clean, neat, to the point.

  I like it. And him. More than I want to admit.

  The door creaked open and Owen peeked out, still dressed in his suit from earlier, though he’d loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt to expose a hint of the tanned flesh. Mouth dry, Alison licked her lips, wondering if his skin tasted as good as it looked.

  Dammit! I can't think that way. I need to focus on finding the real cheater and then get out of town. There's nothing long term here ... or anywhere ... for me. Ever.

  “Hey.” He checked his watch. “Right on time.”

  “Of course.” She waited until he opened the door then stepped inside his place. Glancing around, she was surprised. The interior of his apartment looked even less homey than her furnished rental. She’d expected him to be more of a family-type guy, but apparently she’d assumed wrong. From the mismatched furnishings to the moving boxes still unpacked against the walls, he seemed as ready to pick up and run as she did.

  They walked over to an overstuffed sofa and each took a seat on opposite ends.

  Owen pulled out a brand new deck of cards from his pocket, still in their crinkle wrap, and tossed them on the empty middle cushion. “Go ahead. Show me your magic.”

  “It’s not magic. And it works better with two people.” She opened the deck and handed the cards back to him. “You deal. Blackjack, five people at a table, just like at the Lucky Ace.”

  “Okay.” He frowned, but did as she asked.

  She scooted closer to see the cards better and their knees brushed. Heat tingled through her, but she shoved the inconvenient feelings aside. For her and Faye’s sake, she needed to focus on the numbers and not the hunk sitting across from her. Besides, she was here to prove her point, not screw him silly.

  Owen set the deck aside. “Now what?”

  “I’ve got a near-photographic memory, meaning I can recall every card dealt in each progressive hand. And you already know I’m good at math and assessing probability. Right now, the only cards I don’t know are what’s in the dealer’s hand, but that’s where the probability comes in. Based on what's currently on the table, I’d say it’s unlikely you’re holding an ace.” She pointed to the other four hands. “Because there’s three already out. This is why I always try to sit last at whatever table I’m playing, or as close to last as I can. That way I can see what other cards come up and give myself a better chance to win.” She glanced up at his slightly dazed expression. From the dark circles beneath his eyes and the shadow of stubble on his chiseled jaw, he looked pretty exhausted. Poor baby. Alison smiled and pointed at the deck. “Go ahead and deal the next round.”

  Once he did, she shook her head. “Look at all those faces. Now, I’ve only got eighteen, but from the cards showing and the calculations in my head, I’m guessing the dealer likely has less than that so I’m going to stay.” She grinned. “Go ahead. Turn over the dealer’s cards and see if I’m right.”

  Owen did and the hand showed a ten and two threes. Sixteen.

  “Ha!” She clapped. “I win. No cheating involved.”

  He gathered up the cards, his gaze on her the whole time. “Counting cards is cheating.”

  “But I’m not counting cards. I’m guessing more than anything. Now maybe if there were more players, I’d have an edge, but the Lucky Ace keeps their player count at five per table, so no advantage here. Not to mention th
e fact your dealers shuffle between each hand, which makes it way harder to figure cards from past hands in my predictions. And if that still isn’t enough proof, then how about each dealer changing to a fresh deck once an hour? Nope. Sorry. Your tables are practically bulletproof, cheating-wise.”

  “Right.” Owen relaxed back into the cushions, letting his head rest on the back of the sofa, his eyes half-lidded. “And yet, you’re still able to win. Why is that?”

  “Maybe I’m lucky.”

  “Maybe you’re full of shit.” He snorted. “Again?”

  “Again.”

  They played at least six more hands over the next hour, each time with Alison explaining her strategy as she won. He seemed to grow more relaxed, and more disrobed, by the second. After the first hand went his suit jacket. After the second, his tie. By the sixth round, Owen had unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled them up and toed off his shoes, leaving him only in a half-undone shirt, trousers and socks. The effect was devastatingly sexy, if Alison did say so herself.

  She couldn’t help moving closer to him, as if drawn by some invisible cord.

  “Again?” Owen looked up, his gaze drifting to her lips before returning to her eyes, and she got the distinct impression they weren’t talking about cards anymore.

  She nodded, inching nearer to his irresistible heat. “Again.”

  The word emerged husky with need.

  As if sensing her desire, he set the cards aside and instead placed his hand on her leg, near her knee, massaging in gentle circles that felt like heaven on earth. Owen’s talented fingers slipped higher and Alison leaned closer and soon, their lips met in a passionate kiss.

  Before she could second-guess herself, she pulled him close and laid back, drawing him down atop her. He seemed to go willingly, his hands everywhere on her wanton body—on her inner thighs, beneath the hem of her T-shirt, tangled in her hair. She parted her lips and his tongue swept inside her mouth again. She groaned as he kissed his way across her cheek to her ear then nuzzled the sensitive spot beneath, the hard line of his cock pulsing against her hip. He seemed to want her as much as she wanted him, and God, did it feel good.

  So fucking good…

  Lost as she was in ecstasy, it took Alison a moment to realize he’d pulled away.

  Owen gazed down at her, a shadow darkening his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

  Her desire-dazed brain struggled to comprehend his statement. The pure emotional part of her wanted to tell him to keep going. The pure analytical side reminded her she was here to clear Faye’s name, not get laid. Reluctantly, she went with the truth. “I want to look at the numbers from the casino. I want to help you catch the real cheater.”

  Whatever warmth was left in his expression froze and Owen pushed away from her, returning to his original corner of the sofa. “Right. The numbers. That’s why we’re here. My bad.”

  “Yep.” She sat up too, straightening her shirt along with her priorities. “That’s why we’re here.”

  He reached over the arm of the sofa and lifted up a briefcase. “I brought all the stuff I’ve been going over.” He popped open the locks then pulled out a stack of ledger sheets. “The footage you’ll have to look at on casino property, in my office. Downloading those would definitely send up red flags on my end, especially considering my cousin provides the feeds.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right.” She tucked an errant curl behind her ear and did her best to focus on the sheets he’d handed her and not how those hands had felt against her skin just minutes earlier. He moved closer and peered over her shoulder, disturbing what little concentration she had left. “Listen, I can’t do this while you’re breathing down my neck.”

  Owen gave her a peeved look. “Why not? Can’t think up a lie when I can point it out?”

  “No. There is a little thing called personal space. You should look it up. Glorious concept, really.”

  “Yeah? Guess you’d know all about that, since you just violated mine.”

  Cheeks hot, she looked away. Couldn’t deny that one. “Could you get me something to drink though? My throat’s dry.”

  “I see.” He pushed to his feet, his expression as dubious as his tone. “What do you want?”

  “Water’s fine, thanks.” Having a bit of space between them helped her frazzled nerves tremendously and while he tinkered in the kitchen, she studied the numbers. He returned a few minutes later, and took a seat beside her once more. She was about to ask him for some other useless thing just to get away from temptation when a scratching sounded started on the other side of his front door.

  “Aw, hell no.” He stalked over toward the entrance. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “What is it?”

  Owen opened the door and the dog from the casino scrabbled in, excited.

  “The second most annoying female in this room.”

  “Nice.” Alison reached over to pet the canine drooling on her feet “Hi, baby.”

  Owen took his seat once more and pulled out his cell phone, dialing with one hand while pushing the slobbering dog away from his face with the other. Whoever was on the other end of the line got an earful of angry. “Seriously? This is getting ridiculous. Even for you.”

  Scowling, he continued. “What? No. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Stop trying to set me up with a pet, okay? I don’t need your help.” He glanced over at Alison. “I’ve got enough woman issues as it is.”

  Alison did her best to focus on the ledger sheets and not Owen’s conversation, but her stubborn thoughts refused to obey.

  He’s got ‘woman issues’? Is he seeing someone? Was that why he stopped kissing her?

  Owen hung up and Alison pretended to work harder.

  Awkward silence stretched between them until she couldn’t take it anymore. Finally, she addressed the huge elephant in their room, doing her best to keep her tone from betraying her inner curiosity. “Woman issues?”

  “What?” He gave her some serious side-eye. “Forget it. It’s none of your business.”

  “Fine.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and ran a finger down a column of figures. “If you didn’t want to mess around on your girlfriend, you should’ve just said no.”

  “What?” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Which part of ‘none of your business’ didn’t you understand?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Stop prying into my life and just do what you came her to do, okay?”

  “I already have.”

  “Huh?” He straightened, looking far more alert now. “Already? How?”

  She grabbed a nearby highlighter. “Look at these transactions. They’re done on different days at different times. They seem random, but there’s a pattern. The sums start out modest, but increase exponentially as the months go by. Now, they’re running in the high five to low six figure range.”

  “Great.” He squinted at the columns she’d pointed out. “Still doesn’t tell me who the culprit is, though.”

  “Run these amounts against the cashier tapes from the same dates. That’ll nab your cheater.” She gave him a satisfied smile. “These guys think they’re smart, that they’re being random enough not to get caught, but with enough data—and time—a pattern emerges. Only computers are truly random. People are biased.”

  “Shit.” Owen walked over to a laptop on his kitchen table. He punched the keys on the keyboard then whistled. “Goddamn. I don’t think it’s just one person.”

  “No?” She joined him, but he shooed her away before she could see anything more than the fact he was logged into the casino’s intranet system. “Why?”

  “Because there are two different players club accounts listed with these transactions.”

  “Interesting.” She slumped against the wall and pretended to study her nails while taking another quick glance at the screen. One name jumped out at her. Greg Walpole. “You think they’re working together?”

  “Could
be. And I might know who one of them is too, but I need more proof.”

  “I gave you all the proof right there.” She pointed at the ledger sheets still covering the sofa cushions, irritated. “What more do you want?”

  “You gave me the transactions.” He closed the laptop and faced her, one muscular forearm resting on the back of his chair. “I still need to tie them to the right people and prove they're suspicious.”

  “Fine. I’ll let you get to it then.” She walked back over to the sofa and grabbed her purse.

  “Thanks for this. I’ll call Blake and get his team on it right away. We’ll find the real guilty parties.”

  “And clear Faye’s name?”

  And mine.

  “Yep. If you guys are innocent, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  He’d already reopened the laptop and was typing away as she let herself out.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Alison burst into Faye’s apartment with her laptop under her arm. It was easy enough to dig into someone’s past—if you had the time, their name, and a steady internet connect. Right now, she had the first two, but not the third. Thankfully, that’s where her best friend came in handy. She plopped down on one end of Faye’s couch and fired up her computer again without so much as saying hello.

  Faye, still in her PJs at nearly two in the afternoon., gave Alison a disbelieving look. “Um, what the hell are you doing?”

  She remained focused on her task, clearing both of their names of any wrongdoing. “Cyberstalking someone.”

  “Right.” Faye took a sip of her coffee, watching Alison over the rim. “And you feel the need to do that in my apartment why?”

  “Ms. Baker doesn’t have the greatest Internet. Keeps cutting out all the time. And this isn’t exactly stuff I want to do in front of an entire café full of people.” She typed in new searches at lightning speed, speaking to Faye over her shoulder without really looking at her. “Did you find out anything from the other dealers?”