Money Shot (4 page)

They were each worth five thousand dollars.

Mr. Martini had just placed a
ten thousand dollar bet.

Now her hands were shaking even more as the stick man slid the dice in her direction.

“That’s ten thousand dollars,” Kimber whispered in her right ear as Mr. Martini set up his chips—all of them the same color—on the tray in front of him to her left. The girls all made room and Jodie tried not to look at Lauren, who was definitely giving them a knowing look.

“An eight… before a seven?” She gulped, glancing at him and he gave her an encouraging nod to accompany that drop-your-panties smile.

Jodie closed her eyes and asked the dice,
please no seven, please no seven,
as she tossed them to the other end of the table. She didn’t open them again until she heard the woman at the other end scream.

“Box cars! The lady rolls a midnight!”

“Was that good?” Jodie glanced at Kimber, then back at Mr. Martini, confused.

“She placed a high horn bet,” he explained. “The odds are thirty to one.”

“Bonus money!” The stick man announced as the dealers started handing out chips. “Pay the lady fifteen hundred dollars!”

The lady at the other end of the table beamed. Jodie kind of wished she’d made that bet, since it was her roll that had won it! Too bad she didn’t have anything to bet.

“It’s a sucker bet.” Mr. Martini put chips down behind his on the pass line. She didn’t want to think about how much money he had on the table. “Embarrassing.”

“I can do it again.” Jodie looked sideways at him, challenging.

“You think so?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Okay, pick one of those numbers. Four, six, eight or ten.”

“Eight.” She’d already rolled it—it was the “point,” the one she was supposed to roll before she rolled a seven.

“Five on hard eight.” Mr. Martini lobbed a chip toward the middle of the table and the dealer placed the five thousand dollar chip on the eight. “Now, you want to roll eight the hard way. So if you roll two fours, we win. If you roll a seven, we lose.”

“Right.” She tried to keep breathing as the stick man pushed the dice in her direction. Instead of sliding them close like he had last time, he left them in the “come” field—a metaphor that didn’t escape Jodie as she reached for them. The little mustached man watched as she stretched for the dice and she was very aware of how much cleavage she was showing.

“I don’t think so.” Mr. Martini took her arm, pulling her back, and Jodie startled at his touch, seeing his eyebrows raised at the stout little fellow behind the table. “Don’t short stick the lady.”

“Short stick?” Jodie whispered as the mustached man with the curved stick reluctantly pushed the dice closer, past all the bets on the pass line.

“He was trying to make you reach,” Kimber murmured on her right. “So he could see down your dress.”

“Oh.” Jodie felt her cheeks redden as she picked up the dice, remembering the first time he’d made her reach for the dice.

“Not that I blame him,” the man beside her murmured and she felt his hand press against her lower back, making her spine straighten. She could almost feel him looking down the front of her dress, but he was the only one who could from his vantage point. He’d protected her from other men looking, but he didn’t seem to mind doing it. Or touching, for that matter.

“Hard eight wins it all,” he reminded her, taking a little step toward her so her hip rubbed up against him.

“Hard… eight…” All she could think about was those two fours and the man standing beside her who smelled delicious and had a distracting, overly familiar hand on her lower back.

She closed her eyes and asked the dice to obey. She’d done it before, while playing Yahtzee. They would be down to the last roll, and all she had left to fill in was a Yahtzee—five of the same number. All she had to do was close her eyes and ask. Sometimes she had a flash of a number—a six or a five—and somehow
knew
those would be the ones that came up. And sure enough, she’d roll all fives. Sometimes in one roll!

Jodie asked silently and tossed the dice, waiting for the reaction before opening her eyes, but she knew from the way his hand moved on her back, sliding down lower to squeeze her ass.

“Eight! Pay the field! Hard eight wins!”

The table erupted in screams. They were drawing quite a bit of attention, people stopping to watch who weren’t even placing bets—although some of them were getting in on the game. They were at the most crowded craps table in the place.

“Well goddamn.” Mr. Martini swore under his breath as the dealer placed a whole stack of chips in front of the bet he’d placed on the eight.

“I’m lucky at dice,” she said, almost apologizing. “I guess a girl’s got to be lucky at something.”

“That’s quite lucky.” He chuckled, sliding the chips toward him. “You just won me forty-five thousand dollars. And that was just on the hard way bet.”

Jodie couldn’t breathe. She gaped at him.

“I think a shooter deserves a tip for that!” Kimber remarked boldly. “Don’t you, Mr. Cole?”

Jodie blinked at her, confused, until she realized Kimber was talking to Mr. Martini. Did she know him? How? All of the bachelorette party girls were watching with interest. The triplets were practically drooling. Lauren couldn’t keep from grinning, making Jodie remember that surprising kiss from the man beside her.

“I do indeed.” Mr. Martini—who was apparently Mr. Cole?—called for change and tipped the stick man and the dealers and then slid a thousand dollar chip in front of Jodie. The forty-five thousand he’d won on the hard bet he pushed onto the “pass” line.

“Oh, no…” Jodie shook her head, pushing the thousand-dollar chip back toward him. “I can’t.”

“Bet it then.” He nodded toward the table. “You’re the lucky roller, right?”

“Oh, I still roll?”

“You roll until you crap out,” Kimber explained. “This time you want to roll for a seven or an eleven again.”

“Seven and eleven are good again?” Jodie wrinkled her nose in confusion. “This game is so complicated!”

A phone rang and Jodie rolled her eyes, sure it was Jason, but the man beside her dug into his trouser pocket, pulling out his phone.

“I need to take this. Hold my place?” he asked the stick man who gave him an assenting nod. Then the man Kimber had called Mr. Cole dipped his head to murmur in Jodie’s ear, “I’ll be right back.”

“What the hell?” Kimber exclaimed as he stepped away from the table, gripping Jodie’s upper arm so hard it hurt. “Don’t you know who that is?”

Jodie shook her head but Kimber rushed on.

“That’s Dorian Cole! He was Forbes’s number two most eligible billionaire bachelor last year!”

“Number Two?” Jodie smirked, glancing over her shoulder at the man talking on the phone just a few feet away. “Who was number one?”

“Some prince who lives in Germany.” Kimber waved her question away. “I only paid attention to the ones who I had a shot with.”

“Right, like you had a shot with Dorian Cole?” Lauren interrupted. Kimber stuck her tongue out at her.

“What does he do?” Lauren asked, leaning in, eyes bright. She was the only one who knew that Jodie and Jason weren’t an item anymore. The only one who knew that Jodie and this very rich billionaire had unexpectedly shared a very intimate moment recently.

“He’s some sort of entrepreneur. He invests in inventions I think.”

“Well he sure seems to like Jodie,” Lauren remarked.

“He’s a player.” Kimber slanted her eyes, glancing back at him. “You better be careful. I don’t want to have to explain anything to Jason when we get home!”

“You won’t have to.” Jodie stood up straighter as the stick man called for last bets. “Jason cheated on me. We broke up.”

“What?” Kimber gaped at her but couldn’t ask any more because Dorian Cole had returned to the table, phone back in his pocket, making another bet on the “pass” line as the stick man slid the dice toward Jodie.

“Come out roll!” The stickman was careful to push them close this time and Jodie picked them up. Looking at that forty-five thousand dollars on the line made her sweat. She thought,
please, please, please,
seven or eleven
and threw the dice, holding her breath.

“Easy six,” the stickman announced, corralling the dice. “Mark the six.”

“Well we didn’t win.” She frowned, watching as the “off” marker got flipped over by the stick man to “on” and then placed it on the six.

“You didn’t lose,” Dorian explained. “Now you just want to roll a six before you roll a seven.”

“I think I’m getting the hang of this.” She smiled at him as more people joined the table, placing more bets.

“You want to make another sucker bet with that, Miss Lucky?” He nodded at the thousand-dollar chip sitting on the pass line.

“I’m lucky at dice but…” She shook her head. “Not
that
lucky. It’s Jodie, by the way. Jodie Miller.”

“Dorian Cole.”

“Dice are in play.” The stick man slid them all the way down for Jodie.

She looked around the table, feeling the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her. It was disconcerting to say the least. And that forty-five thousand dollars sitting there? It made her sick to her stomach thinking about losing it, even if it wasn’t hers.

“Shooter’s still looking for a six!”

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the dice and thought
six, six, six.
She could see it in her mind, three pretty dots making diagonal lines across each die. Her fingertips tingled as she let the dice go, heart caught in her throat. The dice were so far away she couldn’t see what came up and had to wait for the reaction of the crowd or the stickman’s announcement.

“Four easy.” The stickman pulled the dice in. “An eighter from Decatur.”

It was like listening to a foreign language that Jodie, somehow, was beginning to understand.

“So nothing happens?” she asked, watching everyone placing more chips on the table.

“Not for us,” said Dorian. “You’re still rolling for a six.”

The excitement had the table absolutely buzzing. People were smiling and happy—winning. Their enthusiasm was catching. She tried not to put too much pressure on herself but somehow she felt responsible because she was the one who had the dice in her hands. It was ridiculous, of course. It was all mathematical odds, right? There was no such thing as luck, not really.

“Jodie!” Kimber nudged her from the other side, all wide-eyes. “What is going on?”

She’d almost forgotten about the girls. They were all staring, whatever bets they’d placed completely forgotten. The excitement of Dorian Cole at the table, paying close attention to one of their own, had completely trumped gambling.

“Apparently, I’m shooting craps.” Jodie laughed, realizing she hadn’t even thought about Jason, or her constantly vibrating phone, in almost half an hour. That had to be a record.

“Quite well, in fact,” Dorian added. His hand moved to her lower back again, shifting her closer, and she let him. It felt incredible to have a man—a very handsome, very rich man—flirting with her, clearly attracted to her, especially in front of all of these rich, snobby women. Well except Lauren, and, she supposed, Kimber.

“You ready to roll that six?” He moved her hair aside to ask her, close to her ear, and she shivered. “If you do, you’ll double that forty-five thousand.”