Love in the Cards (Whole Lotta Love #1) (6 page)

The only hand she’d completely blown had been the one she was holding when she caught sight of
him
on the far side of the room.

Deuce.
Damn it, he
was
here for the tournament.

Alone in her room after a night of unbridled sex that had practically melted her thighs, she’d wondered. He’d been very comfortable with a deck of cards in his hand and played poker with a casual ease that said a lot about his hobbies.

But she hadn’t been positive, although she’d certainly considered the notion.

Now she knew. He was there to win, just like she was.
Now
things would get interesting. The sight of him had dazzled and distracted her to the point where she’d checked instead of raising and needlessly blown a couple of grand.

She’d recovered and gone on to win the table, but it irritated her. It bothered her that one man could pull her mind out of her game—something that had never happened before.

She sipped a soda as the tables were rearranged and everyone took a much-needed break. Deuce was chatting with some guys across the room—she didn’t even know if he’d seen her. And she shouldn’t even be thinking about it, since the next round was about to start and she’d better be damn sharp, since her opponents would no longer be looking for a quick lay on the side. The games were winnowing the players down to the real pros, as opposed to the amateurs.

It was a time for concentration and complete mental focus. Not vaguely unsettled sexual yearnings for a guy three tables over.

Sure, they’d had fabulous sex. Wonderful sex. The best sex in three states, probably, and they might well have committed a few misdemeanors according to the laws of several others! She’d never come like that before, or so many times, either. She hadn’t known
that
was possible outside of some high-falutin’ women’s magazine column, most of which she’d scoffed at while reading it.

So what the hell was it about this guy that rang all the right bells on her private slot machine? Besides the fact that he could do some pretty incredible things with his personal handle?

There was something beyond the obvious, there
had
to be. He was attractive, but not breathtaking. He was fun, but not a stand-up comedian. He was…
nice
. And he cared. Or at least she thought he did.

She frowned into her glass. He’d treated her with respect, affection and attention, taking the time to learn her body and seduce her mind.

Damn him.

She shook her head at herself.
This is so fucking stupid.

The players were called to their seats and Maggie sauntered over to hers, thanking the gods of poker players that she wasn’t at Deuce’s table.
Yet.

It seemed pretty inevitable that they’d be playing against each other at some point during the tournament.

They’d played
with
each other last night—that was for sure.

She stacked her chips, trying to clear her thoughts.
Tonight.
She’d think some more about Deuce and their games tonight. She just knew she’d see him. Her intuition was holding up large, clearly lettered signs.
He’s gonna come back for more.

She sincerely hoped so.

Maggie sighed, deliberately pushing Deuce from her head. It was time to play more poker.

~~~~~

Deuce was
smokin’.

Not literally, of course, since it had never been one of his vices, but the cards in his hands were hotter than hot. And he was playing them just right. The first few deals took care of a majority of the players at his table and he and one other guy were left to battle it out.

It wasn’t much of a battle, either. A couple of bluffs, a nice ace in the river coupled with a jack in the flop and his opponent was all in—and very quickly after that, all done. Yep, Deuce was riding high.

He’d bantered with his companions, contrived to lose the note with a hotel room number on it that a woman had slipped beneath his coaster and pretended not to notice the waitress’s breasts.

The last one had been tough, since they showed every sign of being ready to pop out of her skimpy top and give him a personal “Hoo Rah” if he wanted.

He didn’t want. All he could think was
Maggie’s were nicer
.

And for him, that was odd.

He’d seen her, of course, the minute he’d walked into the hall. It was almost as if he’d expected to see her, since nobody with her finely honed gambling instincts could ignore a tournament like this one. She knew her way around a game of poker, whether betting her socks or her cash, and she’d gotten him more excited in bed than he’d been since he’d scored four aces in a wild game of five-card stud several years ago.

And that was also odd. Up to now, Deuce could take women or leave ‘em. He’d usually taken them, since fucking was a basic pleasure to be enjoyed as much as any other basic pleasure. Well, okay, probably more since there weren’t too many basic pleasures to equal a hot roll between the sheets.

But there was something about Maggie. Maybe it was her uninhibited pleasure or her smile—or that barely noticeable tremble in her lower lip when she was about to come. He didn’t know, didn’t care and decided he’d just have to go see her again and maybe find out just why the memory of last night was stuck in the back of his mind like a warm furry kitten, purring.

He wanted to purr some more. His cock stirred and he frowned. He wanted to play cards right now, not hide-the-salami.
Focus, boy, focus.

Easily winning his way to a spot in the second round, he settled down to do battle with the semi-pros, a couple of whom he recognized from other tournaments. These guys weren’t dicking around for fun, they were serious players, and Deuce shoved the image of Maggie shuddering on top of him away. Firmly. Cards now, sex later.

Most definitely sex later.

On that uplifting thought, he picked up his cards and proceeded to remove the piles of chips from the other players with a minimum of problems. Life was good, the cards were running his way and he was cleaning up.

Hoo Rah
.

~~~~~

Maggie sighed as she stripped off her clothes in her room and glanced at the silver chip that would buy her a seat in the big game.

She’d
done
it. Made it to the final round.

Tomorrow the big game would be held, one table, four players—and half a million dollars up for grabs at the end of a simple game of five card stud. Staring at it, she plunked her butt down on the side of the bed and wondered why she was more excited at the thought of seeing Deuce tonight than seeing aces tomorrow.

She giggled at her own pun. Jeez, since when had Maggie the poker player turned into Maggie the wanton slut? It wasn’t a real tough question.

Since Deuce had gambled his way into her bed, or his bed, or the shower, or wherever—hell, she didn’t give a shit. Still buzzed from the thrill of winning the last couple of hands, she was hornier than a randy bitch in heat and couldn’t wait.

She took off her bra and panties and slipped on her robe, wandering around the room, tapping one finger against her lips in thought. How to welcome Deuce? A bit of lace, perhaps? Nothing but a thong? Since she didn’t wear those very often—not liking to get her butt flossed by a piece of clothing—that wouldn’t work. Maybe a matching bra and boy shorts. She had those in wispy black see-through stuff…

Nah, too obvious. She needed something—unusual. Something different. And yet something he’d appreciate. Then her gaze fell on the deck of cards sitting on the table.

And a rather wicked grin spread over her face. She reached for the phone and called the front desk. Fifteen minutes later, a bellboy appeared at her door with an inquiring look on his face.

“Thanks, kid.” She tipped him a five-dollar chip from the pocket of her robe. “Put it on black tonight, okay?”

“You got a system, lady?” He looked hopeful.

“Nope. Just a hunch.” She grinned. “There’s luck coming my way. Tonight and tomorrow. I can feel it.”

“Really?” His eyes widened.

“Yep. I’m going to get lucky. No doubt about it.”
No aces necessary. Just a Deuce.

“You’re one of the ones playing in the big game, right?” The bellboy looked at her with something very close to worship in his eyes. “We’re all real excited about it. That’s a helluva pot.”

Maggie nodded. “Yeah, sure is.”

“What you gonna do with it if you win, Miss?” His expression told of fast cars, faster women and video games as far as the eye could see.

“Hmm. Let me see.” Maggie thought for a moment. “Well, probably get myself a nice red Jaguar, then drive to Hollywood, mingle with some of those studs out there, and…oh yeah—the latest gaming system. Along with a huge plasma TV and a big couch.”

The bellboy sighed. “Will you marry me?”

Maggie laughed. “Sorry, kid. Not tonight.”

He shrugged. “Oh well. It was worth a shot, ya know?”

“Thanks for the compliment.” She closed the door behind him as he left grinning.

Maggie was grinning too. The rest of the casino might be eagerly anticipating tomorrow’s final round of poker, but there was one guest who was looking forward to something a lot more intimate. A game for two players only.

A hot Queen and a Deuce.

~~~~~

Deuce had changed his clothes as well. It had only taken a couple of chips in the right pocket to get Maggie’s room number—which he’d completely forgotten to ask her for—and he’d had the foresight to get some decent glasses and a bottle of champagne. No drinking from tooth mugs tonight. He grinned and stepped out of the elevator onto her floor. He might not have been a Boy Scout but tonight he was prepared.

All was quiet as he found her room and tapped on the heavy door.

“Deuce?”

He heard her call from inside. His smile widened—she’d known he would come. He was gonna make damn sure she did too.

“Yep, it’s me.”

“C’mon in. The door’s unlatched.”

Cautiously he pushed it wide and let it swing shut behind him, closing them both into their own private space. He clicked the security lock absently, wondering where she was.

“Maggie?”

Deuce looked around. The room was shadowy and dark and he used his knowledge of his own room to find his way past the bathroom into the space beyond, putting the bottle and glasses on the desk.

He turned—and gasped. The only light came from the small bedside lamp. It was shining on Maggie.

At least, he thought it was Maggie. It was her head on the pillow. But the rest of her?

She was completely hidden by hundreds of playing cards, scattered over her body. Only one bare and shapely leg, bent at the knee, rose from her pasteboard blanket.

Deuce blinked, dazzled for a moment by the reflection of the low light on so many vibrantly colored cards. She was a visual symphony of reds, blacks and whites. All his favorite colors playing his favorite melody.

“Deuce?” Her voice was low.

“Uh…” His voice caught somewhere around his tonsils.

“Pick a card.”

With lightning speed, Deuce stripped, nearly tripping over his pants as he tried to pull them off over his sneakers. He cursed and hopped from one foot to the other, struggling to get naked as quickly as possible.

Maggie chuckled. “Smooth move. And to think you’re such a good card player.”

Oh she was sooo gonna pay for that one.

Nude at last he strode to the bed and reached out for an ace, which happened to be trembling on the very tip of one breast.

“Deuce?” Maggie’s voice stopped his hand. “There’s one condition.”

“Huh?” Jesus Christ, he was gonna lose it real quick if she didn’t let him play fifty-two card pickup within the next five seconds.

“I know how good you are with cards. But in this game, I’m the dealer.” She raised a challenging eyebrow. “So I get to call the play. And the rules are…
no hands.”

He thought for a second. “What about feet?” Deuce smiled and held his foot up, wiggling his toes in the air.

“Nope. Don’t care if you can pick up a dime with ‘em. Feet are off limits too!”

Chapter Seven

Maggie tried to quell the shivers of excitement that set the cards rippling on her body. The touch of the feather-light cardboard was an arousal in and of itself, enhanced by the really prime piece of Grade-A male beef staring at her with a rather surprised expression on his face.

She didn’t dare laugh or the damn cards would have slid around and spoiled her surprise, although she’d wanted to when he’d wiggled his toes at her with that cute smile of his. She wasn’t quite sure if Deuce appreciated her gesture, but his cock was signaling approval very enthusiastically.

“Hmm…” He stroked his chin, ignoring his nakedness, looking her over thoughtfully. “No hands, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Think you’re pretty cute, don’t you?” He grinned at her.

“Yep.” She smirked. She couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like she was going to lie there stark naked and just wait for him to jump her bones. Well, she was, of course, but damned if she was gonna make it easy for him.

He glanced around the room. “Hmm.”

“You already said that.” She watched him from beneath her eyelashes.

He moved away from the bed. His hand scratched the particular itch most men have before sex—the ball-itch. He sighed then strolled over to the bureau, idly touching her perfume bottle, rolling her mascara wand back and forth and generally messing up her stuff.

“Aha! It’s a miniature light saber. Women can lengthen their lashes and destroy phantoms with this. I can see it now.” He waved the mascara threateningly at himself in the mirror. “Surrender, Obi Wan. I am too powerful for you. My lashes are deadly weapons.”

“Hey.” Maggie rolled her eyes.

“What?”

“That’s my
stuff.”

“And your point? Jesus, what you women plaster on your face to look
natural
must cost a damn fortune.” He smirked over his shoulder at her.