The One-Night Wife

"Yes," she said. Her smile was shaky but he had to give her credit for managing to smile at all. "That's exactly what I was doing. They're all green with envy."

"I bet." Sean waggled his hand. She took it, and he drew her into the curve of his body. "Well, come on, sweetheart. Let's see how well you do now that I've had some time to get myself together."

"Yes," she said. "Let's."

She laughed up into his face but he could feel a tremor run through her.

Hours later, he could actually see her shaking. He wasn't surprised. He'd played without mercy. The others had long ago folded. They were watching what was happening with the fascination of rabbits watching a weasel in they hutch.

Sean had won or intimidated them all. There were half a million dollars worth of chips piled in the middle of the table. He'd just added the hundred thousand that had brought the chips to that amount.

His cards were good. Savannah's were, too. He could tell by the way she ran her fingers over them.

Now she had two choices. Meet his bet and call, or fold.

He knew, with every instinct he possessed, she couldn't afford to fold. He also knew she didn't have any more money.

She had something else, though. And he was going to force her to risk it.

"Well?" He smiled at her. "What's it going to be, sugar?"

She looked at the chips, then at him. They'd gathered a crowd by now. Even high-stakes players had never seen a game quite like this.

"I don't—" She cleared her throat. "I don't have..." She looked around her, as if money might drop from the sky. "I'll give the casino a chit."

Sean's teeth showed in a hungry smile. "No chits here. Check, if you like, but those are the house rules."

"Then—then surely you'll take my personal note, Mr. O'Connell."

"My, oh my, just listen to that. We're back to the 'Mr. O'Connell' thing again." Sean leaned forward. "Sorry, Just-Savannah. I don't take personal notes." "I told you, I don't have—" "But you do," he said softly.

"I do?" Her gaze flickered to her wrist and the diamond watch linked around it. "My watch," she said breathlessly. "It's worth—"

"It's worth zero. What would I do with that watch?" Sean let his eyes slip over her, doing it slowly, from her face to her breasts and then back. She was pale and for one second, he felt sorry for her.

Then he remembered why she was here and who had sent her, who owned her, and his heart turned to ice. "Make it something worth my while." "I told you, I don't have—"

"Yeah," he said, and he could hear the anger, the hunger, damn it, in his voice. "One night." "What?"

"I said, if you can't come up with the money, I'll take a night with you in its place."

The crowd stirred, a whisper of shock and delight rushing through it like the wind through a stand of trees. ' 'You mean—you mean—''

"I mean," Sean said coldly, "you win, the money's yours." He paused, drawing it out for all it was worth, try­ing not to listen to the blood thundering in his ears. "You lose, you come with me." She didn't answer. Anger and his hot, unwanted desire for her drove him on. "You sleep with me, babe. You got that, or you want me to be more direct?"

He could tell that she was holding her breath. Hell, the whole world was holding its breath.

He didn't know what he'd expected from her in response. Fury? Disbelief? She didn't show either. Nothing changed in her expression and when she spoke, it was slowly, with dignity.

"I understand."

It was Sean's turn to hold his breath. "And?"

"And," she said, "I'll see your cards."

She fanned her cards out. Some of the pink had come back to her face; when he didn't say anything, she even smiled. She had reason to smile. She'd been holding a straight flush. The three, four, five, six and seven of hearts were spots of bright color against the green baize.

"Your turn, Mr. O'Connell."

Sean pursed his lips. "You've got one fine hand there, sugar. An excellent hand. No wonder you were willing to make that bet."

The crowd sighed. So did Savannah. Her smile became real as she leaned across the table and began reaching for the chips.

Sean put his hand over hers. "Not so fast," he said softly.

Her eyes met his. Smiling, never looking away from her, he turned over his cards.

The crowd gasped. So did Savannah. Not Sean. He'd known how this would end. He had the ace, king, queen, jack and ten of spades. A royal flush.

Emotion flashed through him, so swift and fierce he knew he'd never felt anything even remotely like it before. He kicked back his chair, ignored the stack of chips and the crowd. He went around the table to Savannah and held out his hand.

An eternity passed. Then she stood up, ignored his out­stretched hand and began walking. He moved alongside her, wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and led her into the night.

CHAPTER FIVE

Savannah wanted to die.

People were staring, whispering behind their hands. Every eye was on her as Sean laced a hard, proprietorial arm around her waist and led her through the casino. The whis­pers that had started back at the poker table must have spread like wildfire.

Even in this place, where money and excess were as com­mon as grains of sand on the beach, winning a woman on the turn of a card was big news.

She couldn't blame anyone but herself. What a fool she'd been! Sean had toyed with her, letting her win hand after hand. Had she ever been in control of the game, or had he only let her think she was?

She'd gambled for the highest stakes and lost. Lost her sister's future, her future...

Lost to a man in whose bed she would spend the night.

The realization sent a ribbon of terror whipping through her blood. Savannah stumbled and would have fallen if Sean hadn't had his arm around her. His grasp tightened, his hand spread even more possessively over her hip.

"What's the matter, sugar? You having trouble keeping up with me?"

His words were soft; he dipped his head toward hers and she knew those watching would think he was whispering something low and sexy into her ear. But she heard the hard edge in his voice and when she tilted her face up, she saw his eyes glittering like sea-ice.

"No," he said, his smile slow and cruel, "we both know that's not the problem. You can more than keep up. Fact is, you've been ahead of me from the start."

He'd gone from lust to rage in a heartbeat. Why? Did he know something? He couldn't. Alain had planned things so carefully.

Alain.

Her throat constricted as she imagined his reaction when he heard what had happened. Losing to Sean O'Connell hadn't been an option. Alain had made that clear. Right before the tender took her to shore, he'd cupped her chin and lifted her face until their eyes met. He'd smiled, almost the way he used to when he'd first taken her from New Orleans. For the first time in months, the light kiss he dropped on her mouth had not made her shudder.

"A kiss for good luck, cherie."

"I'll do my best, Alain."

"Oui. I am certain you will." Another smile, but this one so cold it chilled her to the bone. "And if you need more than a good-luck kiss for a talisman, think of your dear sister as you play. That should cheer you on."

The warning had not been subtle. Remembering it, know­ing how she'd failed, Savannah stumbled again.

Sean hauled her against his side. "You want me to pick you up and carry you out of here?"

He'd do it, too. It would add to her humiliation and he'd like that, though s

he didn't know why. And wasn't that funny? It was supposed to have gone the other way around. She was to have humiliated him.

Savannah reached deep inside herself and summoned up what remained of her pride. She'd be damned if she'd let him know the true depth of her despair.

"Don't push your luck, O'Connell," she snapped. "You won the bet. You didn't win the right to parade me around like a trophy."

"But that's what you are, sugar." A tight smile flashed across his face. "It's what you were meant to be. A prize I'd want so badly I'd think with my hormones instead of my head."

A cold hand seemed to close around her heart. Was that the explanation for his change in attitude? Was what she'd done so obvious?

"Surprised I figured it out?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No. Of course you don't. You need an explanation, I'll give it to you when we get to my hotel room. For now, just keep moving."

That was all right with her. The sooner they left this place, the better. Anything to get away from the stares and smirks, the soft trills of laughter. The tragic part was that there was nothing funny in what was happening.

Alain's plan had failed. O'Connell hadn't been fooled by her brazen display of sexuality. It hadn't been her fault but Alain wouldn't see it that way. He'd lay the blame on her.

Yes, she'd changed things by telling Sean she wanted to play against him, but she hadn't had much choice. It hadn't bothered him. If anything, he'd seemed amused by her ad­mission.

It had all gone so smoothly at first. She'd played as well as she ever had, better, really, because she knew how high the stakes were. And Alain's predictions had been correct. O'Connell was too busy watching her to pay attention to the game. She'd won and won and won—well, except for that time his interest seemed to be waning. She'd folded early and let him win.

Things had been going just fine... Until that break.

All the others at the table had wanted to take a breather. She had to give in. What else could she have done? The last thing she'd wanted was to call attention to herself.