Socialite's Gamble

Feeling as if her mind was a filing cabinet she was riffling through for just the right way to put him off she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his fleshy fingers dig into her hipbones, his body trapping hers against the cold metal railing.

‘Mr Ellery!’ She put her hands up between them. ‘I’m seeing someone.’

His eyes narrowed but he didn’t move back. ‘Who?’

Who? Who? God, did the man not know how to say die?

She glanced desperately towards the main casino doors, hoping like hell someone would come through them and rescue her when he cursed violently, the glow of the fake volcano’s erupting flames throwing horrible reddish streaks across his overly tanned features.

‘Don’t tell me it’s Kelly.’

It took Cara a moment to realise he wasn’t referring to another woman but Aidan Kelly. She paused, her mind spinning. It was clear by the men’s interaction—or lack of—at the table that they didn’t like each other. At times she’d been sure she’d noticed flashes of almost fear cross Martin Ellery’s face when Aidan had won another round. Would it hurt to let him think that she was secretly dating Aidan Kelly? It might mean that he left her alone for the rest of the night. ‘A lady never tells,’ she murmured, knowing that he would take that as confirmation of his assumption.

‘Kelly’s a woman hater. Mark my words. He’ll break your tender heart, darlin’, and bury it along with every other woman’s in Australia.’

Considering she had no intention of giving Aidan Kelly the time of day after this horrible evening was over she wasn’t at all concerned about her heart—tender or otherwise.

Unbidden, a picture of Aidan Kelly’s handsome face came into her mind. When she’d first locked eyes with him at the airport she’d felt as if her heart had stopped beating. As if the ground had moved beneath her feet. Which of course it had because her shoe had been broken, but to her tragically romantic way of thinking he had looked like Prince Charming himself.

He wasn’t. She’d known that as soon as he’d growled at her, but it hadn’t stopped her from wanting to go out with him. To do more than that, she reluctantly admitted. She had looked at him with the same stars in her eyes that the stewardess had but he had only thought the worst of her and had ignored her ever since. Well, not exactly ignored her. She’d caught him watching her from time to time during the game and it had made her immediately aware of her body in a way that was uncomfortably hot.

And speaking of uncomfortable it was time to stop Martin Ellery’s fingers from digging into her waist as if he had a right to have them there. Pressing down on his arms she forced her lips into a smile. ‘Look, Mr Ellery—’

‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything.’

At the sound of Aidan Kelly’s lazy drawl, Martin Ellery released her and shoved her to the side. Cara sighed with relief.

‘Well, look who’s come to call,’ Ellery sneered. ‘Lover boy himself.’

Cara made a small strangled noise in the back of her throat she hoped neither man heard. The last thing she needed was for Aidan Kelly to find out what she had let Martin Ellery believe.

And what was it about this man that brought out the worst in her? Or was there a blue moon tonight? Was she going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight?

‘You’re the one with the moves, old man.’

Cara shivered. The cooler winds brought on by the earlier monsoon had nothing on Aidan Kelly.

‘What do you want, Kelly?’ Ellery demanded.

‘Fresh air,’ Aidan said, casually strolling closer. ‘Seems I might be in the wrong place.’

‘That’s because the bar’s closed,’ the older man sneered.

‘Doesn’t look that way to me.’

Ellery’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have to say it was a surprise to see you here tonight.’

Aidan propped himself against the polished balustrading, his lazy gaze taking in the sparkling spectacle of the Strip below. ‘Was it?’

The air fairly vibrated with tension but Aidan Kelly, Cara noted, was better at hiding it than his opponent.

Ellery widened his stance. ‘You’ve bitten off more than you can chew taking me on, son.’

With just the barest turn of his head, Aidan’s eyes had the arrogant Martin Ellery pinned to the spot like a wrestler on a gym mat. ‘Don’t ever call me “son” again,’ he warned quietly.

‘Oh, stop with the intimidation tactics,’ Ellery blustered. ‘Better men than you have tried to best me before and they’ve all failed.’

Aidan smiled, more a baring of his teeth. ‘I think you’re being a bit paranoid, old man. I came here to play poker. Like you.’