Authors: Sharon Sala
Lucky (26 page)
Diamond cocked an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “If I was a gambler, I’d just bet money that Henley walked into the room.”
The sisters grinned at each other and nodded. They’d each gotten a dose of Jesse Eagle’s houseman. The exmarine’s gentlemanly demeanor was deceptive. Obviously the boys had just succumbed to some sort of order.
“Come on,” Queen said. “While the gettin’s good.”
They slipped out the front door and into the cold stillness of the Tennessee winter night. Stars twinkled in a clear, moonlit sky. Somewhere off to their left, a horse whinnied, and another nickered softly in response. A dog barked across the hollow behind the house, and far below Jesse’s house came the familiar sound of a train engine straining to pull the cars up the grade.
The sisters cuddled one against the other, absorbing the absolute peace of their surroundings and of the night.
When the engineer pulled the whistle as the train came to a crossing, they shivered and leaned closer together. The sound was long, slow, and mournful. Too vivid a reminder of their youth.
As children, their bond had been out of necessity as much as from love. They’d had to care for one another, because there was no one else to do the job. As they’d grown into women, the bonds of birth had loosened just enough to let each sister grow toward the yearnings of her own heart.
“Are you happy?” Queen asked.
“Yes,” both sisters answered in unison.
She laughed. The sound carried into the house and stopped the men’s card game in mid-deal.
Cody grinned. “That one was mine. Wonder what was so funny?” He sorted, then re-sorted his hand in disgust. There was no way to make a winning hand out of what he’d been dealt.
Jesse’s eyebrow arched as he discarded a pair. “Knowing my girl, I don’t want to know.”
But Nick sat quietly in his chair, the royal flush in his hands forgotten.
“I’m out,” he said, and tossed it on the table in front of them as he headed for the door.
“Damn,” Cody said, as he sorted through the flush. “He’s not much of a gambler. He just quit a winning hand.”
Jesse grinned. “Looks like he’s just the right kind of gambler. A man who knows when to fold is one in a million.”
“Nick!” Lucky slipped from her sisters’ embrace and went to meet him. “Honey, come listen to the quiet.”
He sighed and buried his face in the thick coil of hair against her neck, then wrapped his arms around her shivering body.
“I love you, baby, and you’re going to freeze,” he warned.
“Not now,” she said, and snuggled deep against his warmth. “Never as long as I have you.”
His slow exhale of relief was sweet against her face as she held him close and leaned against his strength.
Behind them, the door opened. The gambler’s daughters were no longer alone. Each stood within her husband’s embrace and listened. And just as Lucky promised, it was so very, very quiet. Even inside their hearts.
Once upon a time I visited Never-Never Land. I didn’t know it had another name—Las Vegas.
My undying gratitude to several people must be acknowledged before I can put The Gambler’s Daughters Trilogy to rest.
Lucky
was, for me, the most difficult book to write. And it was entirely because I did not know the world in which Lucky found herself after arriving Las Vegas.
Like Lucky, who found friends who helped her find her way, I met people—busy people—who took time out of their hectic lives to make a stranger feel at home. I must give them credit for my understanding of the world of casinos and gamblers, for it is they who showed me that gambling is not the real soul of Las Vegas; it is the people within the industry who keep it alive.
To Barbara Abrams, who took me into her home and shared several days of her life and work, as well as her friends, I say thank you, thank you, thank you!
To Pat Fallon, a lady in every sense of the word, who fed me, laughed with me, and taught me that “real” people do exist within the City That Never Sleeps. Another thanks!
To Curtis Jacks at Railroad Pass, I kneel at your feet in awe of the world in which you live and flourish. What is frightening and strange to some is the very breath of life to others. A very big thanks to a gentleman…and a gambler.
To Henry Gonzales at Prima Donna, who took time out of a busy day to answer questions and share a meal. Another thanks.
Many others, including Carol Bennett-Whaley and Mike Ulmer, took time to answer my questions. I’m sure they’ve long since forgotten the writer who ventured into their lives. They may have forgotten. I have not.
With over fifty books in print, award-winning author SHARON SALA, who also writes as DINAH McCALL, still has to remind herself from time to time that this isn’t a dream.
She learned to read at the age of four and has had her nose in a book ever since. Her introduction into romance came at an early age through the stories of Zane Gray, Grace Livingston Hill, and Emily Loring. Her pride in contributing to the genre is echoed by the letters of her fans.
She’s a four-time RITA finalist, Winner of the Janet Dailey Award, three-time Career Achievement winner from
Romantic Times
magazine, four-time winner of the National Reader’s Choice Award, and five-time winner of the Colorado Romance Writer’s Award of Excellence, as well as numerous other industry awards.
Her books are regularly on bestseller lists, such as the
New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly
, Waldenbooks mass market, and many others.
She claims that for her, learning to read was a matter of evolution, but learning to write and then being published were a revolution. It changed her life, her world, and her fate.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
LUCKY
. Copyright © 1995 by Sharon Sala. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition March 2007 ISBN 9780061747144
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