Scanning the tables, she looked for a roulette table that felt lucky. She might not trust her instincts in a criminal investigation as readily as in the past, but she had a sixth sense for roulette. An empty table called out her name, drawing her to its side. She took the middle seat, giving her full access to all numbers. To complete her escape, she ordered a Screwdriver.
The roulette dealer was a good-looking guy in his late twenties with a military-style buzz haircut. “So, what’s your name?” he asked with a look in his eyes that said he wanted to gobble her up.
“Lindsey,” she responded lightly, trying to ignore his flirtatious stares.
He nodded. “I’m Greg.” He pointed to his badge and offered up a bright, white smile as he waved a hand across the wheel. “No more bets,” he said to the players.
Lindsey wrinkled her nose as she watched the little white ball spinning on the wheel. “Greg?” She flicked him a quick glance and then returned her attention to the slowing white ball. “That’s a bad luck name for me. I might have to change tables.”
The ball bounced into the number eight peg, and the dealer dropped the marker onto one of Lindsey’s chips. “It’s not bad luck tonight. You just won.”
Lindsey clapped and gifted him with a happy smile.
He laughed in return. “Why is Greg bad luck for you? Ex-boyfriend or something?”
She raised her brows and gave a quick nod. “Yeah, something like that.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press the subject. Lindsey busied herself placing chips on the table as he kept talking. “Where are you from?”
“New York,” she said and then corrected herself, “I mean Washington.” She groaned. “I think I need another drink.”
“Maybe you don’t if you can’t remember where you are from,” he teased, but flagged a waitress.
Lindsey dropped a five-dollar chip resolutely. She was ready for the spin. A quick nod to Greg and the ball was bouncing. “So are you here with this Greg guy?”
Lindsey laughed a little too loudly. Alcohol on an empty stomach was making her a little over the top. She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please, no way. I’m alone.”
“Alone?” he said, with a satisfied gleam in his eye. “Well, that is the most interesting thing I’ve heard all night.”
Lindsey was saved from responding when two older gentlemen joined the table. The excitement around the wheel escalated and more players joined the table. Soon there was a crowd, and Lindsey was smack in the middle of the play and loving it. She ordered several drinks, and focused on gambling, determined to keep her demons at bay, if only for a short window of time.
Tomorrow there would be plenty of time for worry.
* * * * *
Tired, irritable, and completely out of patience, Mark handed his bags over to a bellman and then plodded through the hotel lobby. The flight had been turbulent from start to finish, literally tossing passengers from side to side. Any hope of sleeping had been thrown out the window, leaving him with nothing to do but think about his troubles with Lindsey. Sitting still while his mind raced had been a difficult task that resembled torture.
Over and over in his mind, he’d contemplated her reaction to his arrival. It wouldn’t surprise him if she yelled. His unannounced arrival would most certainly piss her off; he really didn’t care. He’d spent the past several hours dealing with every possible angle she could throw at him. Ready for battle was an understatement. He was a bull ready to charge. It was time he and Lindsey set some rules.
He had no intention of going to any room but Lindsey’s. Stepping to the check-in desk, Mark informed the desk clerk he needed a key for Lindsey’s room. As expected, he was informed he’d need Lindsey’s approval before receiving a key. Giving the man a sly, knowing look, he discreetly slipped him a hundred-dollar bill. Without further ado, Mark was handed a key.
Standing in the elevator, his body pounded and pulsed with the anticipation of holding Lindsey, touching her. He almost laughed out loud as he thought of his previous night’s declaration of being hands-off until their business was complete. What a joke, he thought. Depriving himself of Lindsey was like taking a bottle from a baby.
Impossible.
He was so hooked, he should be scared shitless. But he wasn’t. Not at all. And that little fact said it all. He was falling in love for the first time in his life. The old cliché “head over heels” finally meant something to him.
Loving Lindsey was complicated, and he knew it. She came with emotional luggage galore. Simply proclaiming his love wouldn’t work with her; in fact, it might drive her away. No, with Lindsey he’d allow her time to get used to the two of them together.
Arriving at her door, Mark knocked lightly. When no answer came, he slipped the key through the slot and entered. The room smelled soft and feminine, like Lindsey. Her scent wrapped around him like a soft glove, making him groan at her absence. Marching to the window, he stood in frozen silence. Lights twinkled beyond the glass, but he didn’t pay them any mind.
He was too absorbed with his next step. Why couldn’t she have just been in her room? “Damn,” he muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. Well, one thing was certain, he couldn’t just sit in the room and wait for her. He had to at least attempt to find her. If she was in the hotel, he would track her down. If not, he would end up back in the room. The thought made him grimace and head for the door with added determination.
Finding her on the slots would be near impossible, so he made a beeline for the tables. To his relief he spotted her almost immediately. She stood at a roulette table full of men. The flimsy black tank top of her dress revealed the creamy white skin of her back and shoulders. Skin he longed to touch. There was no doubt a few of the men around the table had the same desire.
He watched as Lindsey reached across the table to stack chips on her bets. The action made one of her breasts skim the man’s shoulder next to her. Mark’s spine stiffened as he zoomed in on the man’s eyes: hungry, lustful, and far too potent. The man all but licked his lips. A deep growl rose in Mark’s throat as a wave of jealousy stabbed at him.
Mumbling a curse under his breath, Mark charged forward, fighting a caveman-like urge to scream, Mine, mine, mine. He stopped only when he was directly behind Lindsey. Watching her, he saw her stack a huge pile of chips on the number eight. Digging in his pocket, he found a hundred-dollar bill. Resting his hand on the softness of her bare arm, he was shocked when she didn’t jump. Leaning forward, he put the money on the table.
“Put it on eight,” he said to the dealer.
The dealer gave him an assessing look, then said, “Black inside,” over his shoulder to the pit boss.
* * * * *
Lindsey knew it was Mark who touched her even before she heard his deep, sexy voice. When his hand came down on her arm, her skin sizzled with awareness. Pleasure, sexual awareness, need—you name it, she felt a surge of it.
Her senses raced with his presence, making her spare no time in turning around to face him. The sweet realization that he cared for her danced in her head, making her body’s reaction all the more intense. No man would hop on a plane, and push everything else aside, to track down a woman for simple lust. Mark cared on a deeper level, and her alcohol haze made the fear that realization might otherwise evoke simply nonexistent.
She saw the surprise in his face as she turned and leaned into him, pressing her body into his, thinking of the rippling beauty beneath his shirt. Mark made her want him on a primal, deep level she wasn’t sure she would ever quite understand. It was so instant, so powerful.
“Mark, you’re here,” she said in a voice that cracked with a combination of surprise, emotion, and pure, hot desire.
His arms tightened around her waist as he looked down at her with potent, dark eyes. “Yes, I’m here. I—”
She touched her fingers to his lips. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and then pushed onto her tiptoes and replaced her fingers with her lips. It was a soft caress of a kiss that she longed to make more. But not here.