Deep Blue (Blue Series) (3 page)

I’m reeling. I mean, really freaking out right now. I’ve never felt instant sizzle before, and with
Jaeger
—my brother’s friend? That’s a no-go zone. I have a boyfriend!

I lift my hand and signal to the waitress. She sees me and walks over. “Shot of Cuervo, please.”

Startled faces peer at me from around the table.
What?
“Anyone else want one?”

Jaeger and Adam order a shot.

Breanna purses her lips and glares. “Excuse me!” She pokes her chest and flips her hand out at Adam. “Girlfriend sitting here. Why are you talking about pursuing another woman?”

Oh right, the Gisele conversation. God, that seems trivial compared to the mini-crisis going on in my head.

“Bree, that was way before we met.” Adam squeezes Breanna’s shoulder.

“Right, ’cause if you saw Gisele now, you would totally ignore her and have zero interest out of your love and respect for me. Is that what you meant to say?”

“Uhhh, yeah. Absolutely.” Adam smiles mischievously at his friends while he pats Breanna on the back.

“I saw that!” Breanna snaps.

Mason coughs into his hand, the corners of his mouth upturned.

“Hey, what about you,
bro
?” Adam glares at Mason, who Adam seems to think is the cause of the strife between him and his girlfriend.

“What about me? If I ran into Gisele, the
real
Gisele, and not some pseudo-lookalike, I would have been a hell of a lot smoother than you.”

“I’m talking about when you challenged Shaun White. I seem to recall you getting your ass kicked all over the mountain.”

Gen absently passes me the green olives from her martini. She must not be too worried about Mason getting razzed by his friend if she’s thinking about my stomach. Grinning, I pop one of the olives into my mouth and glance up.

I choke before the olive passes my tonsils.

Jaeger is staring at my throat.

His gaze lifts to my eyes and heat rushes my face. I’d like to say the look he’s giving me is one of observation, as though he’s watching an exotic bird eat an unusual food. Gen’s informed me on more than one occasion that my love of green olives is unnatural. But Jaeger looks sexy, and hot, and his gaze is sending fiery signals to my girl parts again.

“I remember you now,” I say without breaking eye contact. “You had a girlfriend.”

The heat in his eyes disappears. He turns away. “That was a long time ago.”

An enigmatic response from an enigmatic person. This is the Jaeger I remember. Quiet. Reserved.

Jaeger glances at Gen and his expression softens. There’s no reason to strike him from the list, not when I remember him as a good guy.

“He’s an
Olympic
champion,
” Mason says, overriding my wayward thoughts. “He had a few more skills than me, but I carved it up pretty good—got in some decent tricks.”

Adam frowns and rolls his shoulders. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Guess you had to be there.” Mason shrugs and finishes off his martini. He has a fresh one in front of him he must have ordered with the tequila shots.

I flag the waitress again and request another shot, chasing it with a second martini to dull the hormones riding me. It’s been almost a week since I saw Eric … and a lot longer since we had sex. My libido’s been neglected. Any hot guy could incite the reaction Jaeger does.

I listen to the others talk and lose track of the conversation. After a while, I grab Gen’s chair. Or maybe her arm. Am I leaning on her?

She glances at me wearily. “Mason, we’re gonna get going. Thanks for inviting us tonight.”

Crap, those shots that dulled my senses also made me forget to keep tabs on the chemistry between Gen and Mason. Did they hit it off?

Mason smiles politely. “Great to meet you, Cali. I look forward to seeing you around at Blue.”

What a sweet guy. He’s a keeper, and I’m going to tell Gen so, just as soon as my tongue thins out. “Definitely!” I practically yell. It’s the only word I can get past my numb lips.

Gen’s eyes widen. “I think we’ll take a taxi.”

I wave goodbye to the rest of them, and they return the gesture, except for Jaeger, who observes my every uncoordinated move, his mouth tense, brows drawn. I’m drunk, but not so drunk I don’t know what a loud, clumsy drunkass I am. Good thing I’m already in a relationship, or there’d be embarrassment on the menu for tomorrow.

We leave Harrah’s and I tell the cabbie to take us to the Last Stop. They’re open long after the casinos slow, with two a.m. breakfasts that have just the right amount of grease.

Gen slides into a booth. I bump my hip on the table as I slither in across from her.

“You’re hammered, Cali.”

“Yup.” I hiccup, the foul flavor of vomitus and alcohol singeing my tongue. “Need water.”

Four glasses of water and a late-night breakfast large enough to feed a two-hundred-pound man later, my mouth regains its dexterity. “Mason’s hot,” I say casually.

Here’s where I unearth the truth about Gen’s feelings for Mason. “I’m definitely going to keep my eye out for him at the casino. I need something pretty to look at while I slave away shuffling cards.”

I shift my gaze to catch her response. If one wishes to elicit a reaction from the elusive species known as
reservus quietgirlius,
one must poke.

Gen snorts indelicately. “Oh, it’s rough for you, isn’t it? Try carrying around a fifteen-pound tray all night—in heels.”

My brows pinch and I quickly smooth them out. I expected annoyance at my checking out Mason, and she gives me nil. Not cool. Point one to Gen, but I have more in my arsenal.

“Did you see his shoulders and arms? Those snowboarders are in good shape.”

“Okay—
girl with a boyfriend
.”

Ouch. That one hit the soft spot. I already feel guilty about my hormonal response to Jaeger. “I’m not actually interested. I just appreciate a nice-looking guy when I see one. I think Mason likes
you
.”

Gen swishes the ice in her clear plastic cup. “He doesn’t like me. He’s a friend.”

Okay, now I’m annoyed. She’s not ’fessing up to anything. “He likes you, Gen, and he’s cute and sweet. What’s wrong with him?”

“There’s nothing wrong with him. I’m just wondering if maybe it’s too soon for me to date other guys.” She thunks her cup on the table, avoiding my eyes. “I haven’t gotten over the last one that hurt me.”

A perfectly valid point. So why do I feel like the A-hole isn’t the real reason she’s suddenly shying away from dating? She needs to date other guys in order to get out of her slump.

“I thought you were open to going out? Dating isn’t a relationship, it’s just … hanging. No strings, just fun.”

Gen straightens. “I think maybe friendships are more my speed right now.” She shoves a forkful of hash browns into her mouth, shredded bits dangling from one corner of her lips as she chews.

She doesn’t fool me by shoveling in food like a toddler so she can’t talk. Gen’s the consummate lady. I recognize avoidance tactics when I see them.

“Enough about my dating woes,” she finally says. “Let’s get in a game of table shuffleboard before we leave.” She eyes the back wall where it’s located—changing the subject, dammit!

“Fine, but be prepared for an ass-kicking. You know how good I am.”

Gen chokes on her last bite. “That’s absolutely
not
how I remember your skills at shuffleboard, or Ping-Pong, or any other game or sport requiring hand-eye coordination. Why do you think I want to play you? I need an ego boost after being called Snow all night by the cougars.”

The nickname Snow White is a part of Gen’s hazing by the veteran waitresses. “Cougars—are they hooking-up with younger guys?”

“One of them stared at Mason the entire time he and I shared our dinner break. She wants to take a bite out of him badly. I don’t think those cougars are too happy we’re friends. Can you believe it? Mason’s gotta be at least ten years younger than most of them.”

Gen and Mason had dinner together? Nice. Maybe she’ll change her mind about this friends-only business.

“If I were their age and single, I’d be a cougar. So yes, I believe it.” I flex my fingers like I’m doing digit stretches. “I wouldn’t be so cocky about table shuffleboard if I were you. My dexterity and speed have improved dramatically after long hours of dealing cards.”

Gen rolls her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

I shouldn’t have goaded her. She gives me a Gen Shuffleboard Smackdown of five-zip in under an hour.

By the time we return home, I’m not sure who’s more nervous about Gen’s future dating adventures—her, or me as her wingwoman, thrust in front of tempting, attractive men.

Or just one attractive man.

I am officially the card-dealing samurai. I’ve gotten so good these last two weeks that I multitask while I work and scope out the action inside the casino. It’s like watching Casino Real World. Right now, the sweet, brunette swing-shift waitress is flirting with the tall, dark-haired cashier behind the cage, while two other waitresses—who I’m pretty sure have a thing for each other—chat by a row of slots. Over in Gen’s lounge, two youngish executives with loosened ties troll for women. Their game is that they are there for an end-of-the-day drink, but I can tell they’re looking for a hook-up. One of them has been tracking Gen’s every move. It’s making me nervous.

I deal my next hand and glance into the East Bar, where Gen’s safely ensconced, chatting up Mason.

My heart warms at the sight. I’m like a proud mama duck watching her duckling venture into the world. Gen and Mason have been casually flirting for a couple of weeks. Well, okay, I can’t tell if the banter is friendly or flirty, but at this point I don’t care. Gen’s laughing and smiling more, and that’s all that matters. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in months.

Jaeger swaggers up to Mason’s bar and my heart pumps an extra beat. He’s in a black T-shirt and dark jeans and my mouth goes dry just looking at him—

“Hit.”

Crap, I missed a customer signal. Too much casino-watching.

The woman glares. I quickly deal a card and count the odds, shoving my head in the game. When I can no longer stand the suspense, I glance at Mason’s bar.

Jaeger is smiling at Gen, his forearm on the counter, body angled toward her. I can’t look away. Corded muscles in his arm flex under his weight, his hand casually curled.

Damn those hot hands. Visions of them grasping my flesh and skimming over my body hijack my mind.

Eric hasn’t called, and Jaeger’s effect on me is inconvenient. I was hoping Eric would visit and remind me why we’re together, because I’m not feeling the love.

I shift my feet, gaze shooting now and then to the trio at the bar. Gen laughs at something Jaeger says and jealousy spears my chest.

This is ridiculous. I
want
Gen to have male attention. Why does this particular guy’s attention have me so upset? He was my brother’s friend, and for all I know, he’s still in touch with Tyler. I should call Tyler and get the scoop.

Two of my customers rise, gathering their chips. They’ve lost the last three rounds.

I can predict with 99 percent accuracy when a customer will leave. Three rounds of losses have a 50 percent probability, while five or six rounds guarantee they’ll be moving along.

Tonight I’m hot. No one stays at my table for more than a few hands.

My last two customers, middle-aged mother types, show each other their cards. They’ve managed to break even for a half hour. The longest stretch so far.

Dealer shows a ten.
Not looking good, ladies.

The woman with frosted blond bangs scrunches her nose. She whispers to her pal, her bright pink, fake nails shining in the overhead lights as she cups her mouth. With a nod from her friend, she swipes the table, indicating a hit.

I deal her card and her lips press together in a subdued smile, but her eyes dart warily to my ten.

Her friend hits as well, then holds.

I flip my hidden card.
Ace
.

House takes all.

Again.

I’m even winning when it comes to getting Gen hooked-up, so what the hell is wrong with me? Why does everything Jaeger does have me on edge? I need to talk to Eric. He hasn’t called since before his visit, and that was three weeks ago. He’s texted a couple of times, so I know he’s alive.

My tight ponytail is giving me a headache. I hold my hands over the table, clap them together, and show my palms to the ceiling—and the creepy people watching from the surveillance system—before tugging the strands loose near my temple.

The pressure eases, but the sledgehammer behind my scalp persists. Flashing my hands again, I show I haven’t pulled any cards from behind my ears and deal another hand. A new customer sits at my table while I’m looking down, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck tingle.

Jaeger is seated in front of me, his shoulders practically taking up two seat widths. My heart ricochets inside my chest like a pinball. I can’t control the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

Stop smiling!
I compress my lips in a straight line.

Jaeger doesn’t say anything, and when it’s his turn to hit, he swipes his card. “What are you doing after work tonight?”

Where is he going with this? He can’t be hitting on me—well, he’s hitting, but not on me. I pass him his card. “Um, not much.”

Jaeger is here to flirt with Gen. There’s nothing to worry about. I am not cheating on Eric.

“You up for experiencing a Tahoe sunrise tradition?”

Sounds promising. Jaeger, or it could be Mason, probably wants to see Gen tonight and Jaeger’s checking in with me because she and I are a package deal. I’m thinking champagne on the beach … he has skills, if this is how he plays it with her.

“I’m game. What did Gen say?” I flip my hidden card and add a six to my seven. I deal myself another.
King.

Dealer busts.

And just like that, my winning streak breaks.

The frosted sisters lost as well, and have already abandoned the table. Jaeger’s eighteen is the winning hand.

“She says she’ll go if you do.” He scrapes up his winnings.