Chapter Eight
“Ladieeees and gentlemen. It’s time to get down…”
Two of the players assembled shared an identical thought. Too late.
“And get serious with some pokeeerrrr…”
The smooth voice of the announcer rolled over the crowded room as the lights dimmed. Several spotlights shone over the green baize table around which four people sat quietly.
Maggie’s palms were damp and once again she found herself surreptitiously wiping them on her slacks out of sight of her opponents.
Of whom Deuce was one.
Just looking at him made her pussy twitch and Maggie dropped her eyes to the hands of the dealer, trying to focus on what mattered this morning. In the cold light of a new day, she had one goal and one goal only.
To win.
She had to. She simply had to. This was why she’d come to the Last Resort in the first place. This was the end result of years of playing the game she loved. Her crowning achievement. A vacation in the Caribbean and a nice new home awaited her. Financial security. All the things she’d wanted—still wanted.
Deuce hadn’t been part of her dreams and she couldn’t afford to think about him now. The sex had been fabulous—fun, wonderful, orgasmic and all those high blown things that had gone past women’s magazines and into the realms of stuff she’d only read about in erotic romance novels by those two crazy authors whose names she couldn’t remember right this minute. She’d had no idea such things were possible, let alone attainable. Especially by her.
But with Deuce she’d found a passion that damn near matched the one she’d cherished for poker all these years. However, they weren’t in bed together now. They were facing each other, the two additional players on either side, ready to go head-to-head in the biggest game of their lives. Well, hers anyway.
Her thoughts veered off into the wrong channel as she thought of going head to head with Deuce. Shit. The guy knew how to use his head. And the rest of his associated parts.
No. Bad mind.
She swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and struggling to let go of the sensual images dancing behind her eyelids. She simply had to put them away for a while now. She needed every ounce of focus she had—these were big-time players. This wasn’t going to be a walk in the park with the boys downtown. It wasn’t going to be a case of a few quick hands and then stroll away with the pot in her pocket.
Nope. She was gonna have to work for each and every chip, each and every advantage and each and every strategy that would get her where she needed to be. She needed a clear head and one hundred percent of her attention on the cards.
Not Deuce.
~~~~~
Across the table, Deuce fought the very same battle.
He didn’t dare meet her eyes. Not yet. Not while the scent of her still tickled his nostrils and his cock was all too ready to repeat last night’s pleasures. Down, Simba. Later. It’s poker time now. I know you’d like to poke her again but it’ll have to wait.
He mentally slapped himself upside the ear and ordered his mind to get a grip. He could win this thing. He had the skills and knew how to use them. She might have control in bed at times but this was his domain, his home. He had the experience and the desire.
Desire? Yeah, he had enough of that. More than enough.
No, no. Don’t go there. Thinking with the wrong head again.
A round of applause made him jump, jerking him away from his thoughts. He risked a glance across the table and saw her staring at her hands. She looked calm, but he knew better.
She was every bit as tense as he was and probably for the same reasons.
Shit. He probably shouldn’t have indulged in a round of fucking the likes of which had not only managed to shake him but also turn him inside out. It was supposed to be a fun, casual sort of thing, not something that lingered like the soft sounds of a song he couldn’t get out of his head.
This was sooo not the time for sex. For thinking about sex, remembering sex or wondering when he could next have sex.
With Maggie.
Screw it.
Deuce bit down on a pang of lust and breathed in slowly, exhaling just as slowly while releasing the part of his mind that knew every single thing there was to know about poker.
That’s what today was about. The game. The bets. The cards fate would deal him and the experience he had in using those cards to make the right decisions.
His thoughts cleared and the table came into sharp focus, the chips bright splashes of color next to each player. He caught the scent of nervousness from the guy next to him and the slight shift on the seat from the one other player at the table. He listened as the announcer introduced the dealer, Donnie Cartwright, owner of the Last Resort.
A tall man with a noticeable dose of the military in his bearing, Donnie nodded at the table. “Welcome, folks. This is the fun part of being the owner—I get to indulge my own passion for poker by dealing this round to some of the finest players in the state.”
There was a muted round of applause.
“As you know, today’s pot is half a million dollars, going to the lucky winner. Who will also feature in the latest brochure from our friends at the Internal Revenue Service, a couple of whom are enjoying a meal next door as we speak.”
There was a ripple of laughter at Donnie’s words. He smiled too. “Don’t worry. I made ‘em pay for it. Yeah, some things really are inevitable.” He glanced at each player in turn. “But that’s for later. Right now we’ve got a game to play.”
The air tensed around the table—the four were all keyed up and ready to go.
Deuce felt the adrenaline hit his system and let it roll through him. He knew it was going to be his day. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind because he felt the sign he always felt before he was going to score big. He was hungry.
I wonder if I could get an order of chili-cheese nachos before we start. Deuce licked his lips. But Donnie was already shuffling the cards and getting ready to deal.
“Five card stud, folks. Ante up.”
Let’s do this.
The crowd waited in eager anticipation. They whispered to their neighbors as each player sat silently, eyes swiveling between their own cards and their opponent’s body language. The slightest of emotions or a smile could be the difference in a bluff.
It took less than an hour of solid, conservative play to reduce the table by one.
Maggie, Deuce and an older guy named Vince were the final three, after the flamboyant Lucky Bangera had lost to Maggie’s flush. Deuce and Vince had folded earlier, obviously both sharing a hunch that Maggie had a good hand. They were right.
Several hands later, Vince’s chip pile had dwindled down to almost nothing. His trademark cowboy hat rested at the back of his balding head and his forehead was damp with sweat.
As Donnie threw out the last card it became apparent to everyone that Vince didn’t stand a chance. The nine of hearts wasn’t the suit or the card he needed to fill his straight. He had bet it all in a last ditch effort to stay in.
“Well, I’m done. Good luck you two.” Gracious in defeat, Vince tipped his hat to Maggie and shook Deuce’s hand.
Donnie cracked open a new deck of cards and flared them across the table, then flipped them, showing off a few tricks of the trade with smooth professionalism. “Sir, it’s your cut.” He held the cards out to Deuce.
“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer the lady to cut the deck for me.”
Maggie tapped the top card. It was a nice gesture but she’d be damned if she’d take any advantage. Not now. Not when things were so far along in the game.
Deuce wasn’t going to let this go. The game was his big enchilada, the big burrito, the—whatever. He realized how tense he was, since he usually thought of food—or pussy—to relax.
He didn’t know if he could stand the idea of another hour or so of pretty equal competition against Maggie. It was down to the two of them. There was nothing more to prove. They were well matched, the best of those who’d come to the Last Resort to compete.
He took a breath. This could be the biggest gamble of his life.
Before Donnie could begin the deal, Deuce rapped his knuckles on the table and silence fell. “Listen, we’re about even here. I say let’s not drag this out any more than we have to.”
Both Donnie and Maggie stared at him as he continued. “We’re gamblers. Let’s gamble. All in. One hand, all or nothing.” His balls tightened at the thought of half a million dollars on one hand of cards. He was either brilliant or out of his fucking mind.
“Ballsy call.” Maggie’s voice was cool. “But what the hell! I’m up for it.” She looked straight at Deuce with no expression in her eyes at all. No sign of what she was thinking, what she was feeling or any fear whatsoever. It was one hell of a poker face.
Holy shit, I’m in trouble now.
Donnie straightened and looked around. “Since this is my casino, I get to make this call. I’m in favor of it. We’ve got ourselves two superb players here and I know you’re as excited about that as I am. Anybody got any objections?”
The hushed silence was answer enough and was followed by a rustle of expectancy, as everyone leaned forward in their seats or moved to get a better look, anxious not to miss a single thing.
For Deuce, time slipped into slow motion as Donnie flipped the cards onto the table in front of them.
A quick peek showed him the King and a Jack in the hole. He swallowed. A damn good hand.
He didn’t bother to even look down as Donnie moved. This was Deuce’s tournament. Even his desire for Maggie wouldn’t change that. Finding her had been a miracle by anyone’s standards, but not even a miracle could stop him now.
Winning would set him up for the next few years. Hell, he could buy any woman he wanted. But he knew he couldn’t buy her. She was—priceless. She was worth the trip to the Last Resort, worth the soaked shirt—worth every single minute of their time together. Maybe even worth losing to. It was a thought that stunned him even as it ran through his mind. Yes, she was the only one he’d ever not mind losing to. The only woman he’d met who’d rocked his world like that.
And she looked up at him right at that moment.
For Maggie, this was more than just a poker tournament. She’d never been to this level of play among this level of players. Most women didn’t survive the first few rounds, let alone make it to the finals. Only six women had entered this particular championship. She had played with the best and beaten them at their own game. It was her time at last. And she was sharing it with the only man who’d ever made it past her personal barriers and into her heart.
She couldn’t read his eyes—she hadn’t expected to. He was too good for that. But somehow she sensed he was at a turning point as well. Maybe he was thinking about her, not the last card. And in that instant, Maggie knew that if she lost the hand it wouldn’t matter as much as losing him. But not by one flicker of expression did she let him see that, remaining still as their gazes locked.
Deuce broke the stare first, flashing a quick look at the cards lying neatly in front of Donnie.
A jack and a ten. Both hearts.
Maggie didn’t even need to look at her cards. She knew what she had. The nine and seven of hearts.
Once more their gazes clashed, drawn to each other like iron filings to a magnet. What was next? What would happen after the tournament? Were the men from the IRS finished with their meal and now waiting patiently in the crowd? How much would they take, anyway?
As Maggie tried to ignore all the wild questions running through her mind, Deuce slowly crossed his eyes and grinned at her.
That cute smile creased his face and she smiled back. Whatever happened, she’d met someone who’d changed her life. Someone who had made her smile and scream, and both at the exact same moment. How the hell could she ever put a price on that? What was winning a stupid card game next to that incredible experience?
But the hand had to be played. She swallowed and lowered her eyes to the cards.
This was it. The outcome of the tournament was riding on what happened next. Half a million dollars and who would end up with it was now in the hands of fate.
The crowd sucked in a breath of anticipation as Donnie smoothly slid the next card from the deck.
The final card.
He flipped it face up on the table.