Raising the Stakes

“I’d look at them and I’d think, will you be able to pay the rent next month? And, of course, that really wasn’t my business.”

“But you felt it should be,” he said, and she smiled as if he were brilliant and said yes, that was it, exactly.

“I had the same feeling when I dealt at the high stakes tables, and I knew that was silly because only high rollers—heavy gamblers—play there, and they know, going in, that there’s a big risk.” She sighed, scooped some guacamole onto a corn chip and looked at him. “Raising the stakes is always a mistake.”

“Is it?” Gray said quietly.

She could feel her skin heating under his steady gaze. She wanted to look away from him but she couldn’t.

“Dawn,” he said with sudden urgency, “I have to tell you—”

“Here we are,” the waitress said, and the moment was lost.

The evening moved on. They drank a little of the wine, ate a little of the chimichangas and fajitas and the hot, spicy sauces and cool salads. A guitarist came to stand beside their table and serenade them with music that was full of “mi corazons” and unabashedly schmaltzy…and, somehow, just right.

It was late by the time they rose from the table. Without thinking about it, Gray took Dawn’s hand. They strolled out to the parking lot, which was quiet and almost empty, and he knew he didn’t want the evening to be over. Not yet.

“Will you be okay, driving home alone?”

She smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll follow you.”

“No. No, really. I drive home a lot later than this, from the hotel.”

Gray nodded. She didn’t want him going with her. Okay. He wouldn’t push.

“Tomorrow, then.”

She hesitated. “Gray. I don’t—”

He didn’t stop to think. He took her face in his hands, lifted it and brushed his lips lightly over hers. She stiffened and drew back but before he could apologize, she made a little sound, moved closer and pressed her mouth to his in a closemouthed, innocent kiss that left him feeling as if the earth had just swung out from under his feet.

“Dawn,” he whispered. He clasped her wrists, took a step back because God only knew what might happen if she felt what that sweet kiss had done to him. He wanted to tell her everything, why he’d come here, what Jonas wanted, but he couldn’t. Net yet. She’d only just begun to trust him. If he told her he’d come to Vegas to meet her, that might frighten her off. “It’s late,” he said softly.

She nodded. “I know.”

“Meet me for breakfast, at that little coffee place in the hotel?”

Her lashes swept down and hid her eyes, but he saw her teeth gently sink into her lip in that now-familiar action he felt right down to his toes.

“I shouldn’t…” She looked up and smiled. “Yes.”

“Seven o’clock?”

“Six-thirty. I start work at seven.”

“Fine.” He smiled, stroked her hair away from her temples. He kissed her again, gently, tilting her chin up with his finger, and almost went to his knees when he felt her mouth move delicately against his. “Dawn. I don’t know your phone number or your address.”

He did. Both were in Ballard’s report. All he had to do was open the file and look, but he couldn’t let her know that any more than he wanted to open the file Jack had given him and be reminded that he’d lied to her from the minute they met.

She hesitated. He sensed that she didn’t give that information to many people, and if she gave it now it would mean as much, maybe more, than that she’d kissed him back.

“Nine sixteen East Orchard Road,” she said softly. “Five five five, one two seven nine.”

He wanted to kiss her again but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from wanting to taste more of her. Instead he repeated what she’d told him and turned her gently toward her car.

He stood watching after her until all he could see of the car was the faint glow of its taillights winking against the darkness. Then he exhaled heavily and looked up at the night sky.