The Winning Hand (16 page)

The roses had come first, she remembered, tapping her fingers on the desk. Barely an hour after she’d stormed back into her room after the conversation with Mac, the bellman had knocked on her
door. The note with them had been a smooth apology she’d easily ignored.

It was no one’s business but hers that she’d tucked the card away in her lingerie drawer.

The daisies had come the next day, with a request that she call him when she had a moment. She’d tucked that card away too, and had ignored the request—just as she’d ignored his insistent knocking at her door the previous evening.

This morning it was birds-of-paradise and hibiscus with a much pithier request.

Damn it, Darcy. Open the door.

With a short, humorless laugh, she turned on her laptop. She would
not
open the door, not to him. Not the literal door of her room, or the metaphorical door to her heart. It wasn’t simply mortifying that she’d allowed herself to fall in love with him, it was … typical, she thought, and clenched her teeth.

Pitiful, lonely woman meets sophisticated, handsome man and tumbles face-first at his feet.

Well, she’d picked herself up now, hadn’t she? He could send her an acre of flowers, a ream of notes, but it wasn’t going to change a thing.

She had her direction now. As soon as she completed the draft of her book, she was going to a Realtor. She intended to buy a house—something big and sand colored that faced the open mystery of the desert and the majestic ring of mountains.

Something with a pool, she decided, and skylights. She’d always wanted skylights.

Settling here had nothing to do with Mac, she told herself. She liked it here. She liked the hot winds, the sprawling desert, the pulse of life and promise that beat in the air. Las Vegas was the fastest-growing city in the U.S., wasn’t it, and reported to be one of the most livable?

It said so in the glossy hotel guide on her coffee table.

Why shouldn’t she live here?

When the phone rang she merely scowled at it. If it was Mac thinking she was the least bit interested in speaking to him, he could think again. She ignored the call, rolled her shoulders once, then dove back into the story.

*   *   *

Mac prowled his office restlessly while his mother scanned the printout of bookings for the next six months. “You’ve got a wonderful lineup here.”

“Mmm.” He couldn’t concentrate, and it infuriated him.

He’d only wanted to warn her about his grandfather’s tendency for plots and schemes. For her own good, he thought, moving from window to window as if to improve his view. And he’d apologized repeatedly. She didn’t even have the courtesy to acknowledge it.

He’d come close, far too close, to using his passkey and circumventing the control on her private elevator. And that, he reminded himself would have been an unforgivable invasion of her privacy and a breach of his responsibilities to The Comanche.

But what the hell was she doing in that suite? She hadn’t had a meal outside of it since that breakfast on the roof. She hadn’t stepped foot in the casino, or any of the lounges.

Sulking. It was so unattractive, he decided, and sulked a bit himself.

“It serves me right for trying to look after her,” he muttered.

“What?” Serena glanced over, then shook her head. She knew very well she’d had only the stingiest slice of her son’s attention for the past hour. “Mac, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Do you want to see the entertainment schedule?”

She lifted her eyebrows and waved the printout. “I’m looking at it.”

“Oh. Right.” He turned to scowl out the window again.

With a sigh, Serena set the papers aside. “You might as well tell me what’s bothering you. I’ll just nag you until you do anyway.”

“Who’d have thought she could be so stubborn?” The words exploded out of his mouth as he whirled back. “If she can be this damn perverse, how the hell did she get pushed around so much?”

Serena hummed in her throat then, crossing her legs, settled back. Women rarely ruffled Mac, she mused, and took it as a very good sign. “I assume you’re talking about Darcy.”

“Of course, I’m talking about Darcy.” Frustration simmered in his eyes. “I don’t know what the hell she’s doing, locked in that suite day and night.”

“Writing.”

“What do you mean, writing?”

“Her book,” Serena said patiently. “She’s trying to finish the first draft of her book. She wants to have that done before she starts querying agents.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she told me. We had tea in her suite yesterday.”

It took monumental control to keep his mouth from falling open. “She let you in?”

“Of course, she let me in. I talked her into taking a short break from it. She’s a very disciplined young woman, and very determined on this. And talented.”

“Talented?”

“I persuaded her to let me read a few pages of the book she’d finished last year.” Serena’s lips curved up into a pleased smile. “I was impressed. And entertained. Does that surprise you?”

“No.” He realized it didn’t, not in the least. “So she’s working.”

“That’s right.”

“That’s no excuse for being rude.”

“Rude? Darcy?”

“I’m tired of the silent treatment,” he muttered.

“She’s not speaking to you? What did you do?”

Mac set his teeth and shot a withering look at Serena. “Why do you assume I did anything?”

“Darling.” She rose, crossing over to lay a hand on his cheek. “As much as I love you, you’re a man. Now, what did you do to upset her?”

“I was simply trying to explain The MacGregor to her. I came across them with their heads together, and Grandpa started in on why didn’t I take this pretty young girl for a drive in the moonlight. You know the routine.”

“Yes, I do.” Daniel “Subtle” MacGregor, she thought with a windy sigh. “Exactly how were you trying to explain him to her?”

“I told her he wanted his grandchildren married, settled and producing more little MacGregors, that it appeared he’d picked her out for me. I apologized for him, and explained that I wasn’t looking for marriage, and she shouldn’t take him too seriously.”

Serena stepped back, the better to stare at her firstborn. “And you used to be such a bright child.”

“I was only thinking of her,” he retorted. “I thought he was setting her up. How was I supposed to know she’d asked him to meet her on business? I admit I put my foot in it.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “I apologized, several times. I sent her flowers, I’ve called—not that she’ll answer the damn phone. What the devil am I supposed to do? Grovel?”

“It might be good for you,” Serena murmured, then laughed as he hissed at her. “Mac.” Gently she cupped her hands on his face. “Why are you so worried about it? Do you have feelings for her?”

“I care what happens to her. She stumbled in here like a refugee, for God’s sake. She needs someone to look out for her.”

She kept her eyes level on his. “So your feelings for her are … brotherly.”

He hesitated just a moment too long. “They should be.”

“Are they?”

“I don’t know.”

Loving him, she skimmed her fingers back into his hair. “Maybe you should find out.”

“How? She won’t talk to me.”

“A man who has both MacGregor and Blade blood in his veins wouldn’t let something like a locked door stop him for long.” She smiled, kissed him firmly. “My money’s on you.”

*   *   *

Darcy’s eyes were closed as she tried to visualize the scene before letting the words come. Now, finally, though danger shadowed every corner, her two main characters would come together. No longer would they resist this vital and primitive pull, no longer would needs that swam in the blood and slammed in the heart be denied. It was now. Had to be now.

The room was cold and smelled of damp the blazing fire had yet to conquer. The blue haze of a winter moon slipped through the windows.

He would touch her. How would he touch her? A brush of knuckles on her cheek? Her breath would catch, strangle in her throat, shudder through her lips. Would she feel the heat of his body as he drew her close? What would be the last thing running through her mind in those seconds just before his mouth lowered, took possession of hers?

Insanity, Darcy thought. And she would welcome it.

Keeping her eyes closed, Darcy let the words run through her mind and onto the page. The sudden shrill of the phone was so abrupt and out of place in her chilly cabin in the mountains, she snatched it up without thinking.

“Yes, yes, hello?”

“Darcy.” The voice was grave, undeniably irritated, and all too familiar.

“Gerald.” The passion and promise of the scene vanished, replaced by nerves. “Ah, how are you?”

“How would you expect me to be? You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology was automatic, making her wince the moment it was out of her mouth.

“I can’t imagine what you were thinking of. We’ll discuss it. Give me your room number.”

“My room number?” Nerves shot directly to panic. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the lobby of this ridiculous place you chose to land in. It’s beyond inappropriate—which I
should have expected given your recent behavior. But we’ll straighten it out shortly. Your room number, Darcy?”

Her room? Her haven. No, no, she couldn’t let him invade her sanctuary. “I—I’ll come down,” she said quickly. “There’s a seating area near the waterfall. It’s on the left of the reception desk in the main lobby. Do you see it?”

“I could hardly miss it, could I? Don’t dawdle.”

“No, I’ll be right down.”

She hung up, pushed away from the desk. Despair closed in and was resolutely fought back. He couldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do, she reminded herself. He had no power here, no control. He had nothing that she didn’t give him.

But the hand that picked up her purse wasn’t completely steady. Her legs wanted badly to shake as she walked to the elevator. She concentrated on keeping her knees from knocking together all the way down.

The lobby was crowded with people, families of tourists who wandered through to toss coins into the pool at the base of the waterfall or to see the live-action show in the open-air amphitheater. Guests checked in, checked out. Others were lured by the ching of slots and headed for the casino.

Gerald sat in one of the curved-back chairs near the bubbling pool. His dark suit was without a wrinkle, his hard, handsome face without a smile as he scanned the activity around him with a glint of derision in his dark eyes.

He looked successful, Darcy thought. Removed from the chaotic whirl around him. Cold, she decided. It was his cold nature that had always frightened her.

His head turned as she approached. Even as his eyes skimmed over her, registering both surprise and disapproval of her choice of pale green shorts and a peach blouse, he got to his feet.

Manners, she thought. He’d always had excellent manners.

“I assume you have an explanation for all of this.” He gestured to a chair.

The gesture, she mused, was just one of the ways he took control.
Sit, Darcy.
And she’d always quietly obeyed.

This time she stood.

“I decided to relocate.”

“Don’t be absurd.” He dismissed this with a wave of his hand before taking her arm and pulling her firmly into a chair. “Do you have any idea what embarrassment you’ve caused me? Sneaking out of town in the middle of the night—”

“I didn’t sneak.” Of course she had, she thought.

He merely arched a brow, adult to child. “You left without a word to anyone. You’ve been irresponsible, which again, I should have expected. Taking a trip like this without any planning. What did you expect to accomplish?”

Escape, she thought. Adventure. Life. She linked her fingers together, laid them in her lap and tried to speak calmly. “I wasn’t taking a trip. I was leaving. There’s nothing for me in Trader’s Corners.”

“It’s your home.”

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t be more foolish than necessary. Do you have any idea what sort of position you’ve put me in? I find my fiancée gone—”

“I’m not your fiancée, Gerald. I broke our engagement some time ago.”

His gaze never wavered. “And I’ve been more than patient, giving you time to come to your senses and calm your nerves. This is how you behave. Las Vegas, for pity’s sake.”

He placed his hands neatly on his knees and leaned forward. “People are gossiping about you now. And that reflects poorly on me. You’ve been splashed all over the national news—some sort of three-day wonder.”

“I won nearly two million dollars. That’s news.”

“Gambling.” He sneered on the word, then leaned back again. “I’ll handle the press, of course. The
interest will die down soon enough, and it’s a simple matter to put a positive spin on the incident, to play down the sordid.”

“Sordid? I put money into a slot machine. I hit the jackpot. What’s sordid about it?”

He spared her a weary glance. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand the underlying thrust of this, Darcy. Your innocence, at least, does you credit. We’ll arrange for the money to be transferred—”

“No.” Her heart was beginning to pound in her throat.

“You can hardly leave it in Nevada. My broker will invest it properly. We’ll see that you get a nice allowance from the interest.”

An allowance, she thought, through the dull buzzing in her head. As if she were a child who could be indulged with carefully controlled spending money. “It’s already being invested. Mr. MacGregor, Daniel MacGregor, is handling it.”

Shock reflected in his eyes as his hand shot out to grip hers. “My God, Darcy, you’re not telling me you’ve given over a million dollars to a stranger?”

“He’s not a stranger. And actually, he has slightly under a million for now. There are taxes and living expenses to consider.”

“How could you be so stupid?” His voice rose, making her cringe back from it, and the disgusted fury in his eyes. “Put it together—a simpleton could see it. MacGregor has a financial interest in this hotel. And now he has the money you took from this hotel.”

“I’m not stupid,” Darcy said in a quiet voice. “And Daniel MacGregor isn’t a thief.”