Their Million-Dollar Night. Katherine Garbera
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“What else did you read about me?” he asked, wondering what was in his file. He wasn’t concerned. Hayden kept stats on all the high rollers who came into the casino, even his friends.
She tipped her head to the side and her long hair brushed against her neck. He wondered if it was as soft and silky as it looked. “I can’t tell you that. You’d know all my secrets.”
He caught her hand and pulled her to a stop. Damn, she had the softest skin he’d ever touched. “All of them? I doubt that. I’d only know the ones about myself. And technically, those aren’t yours.”
He was flirting, and he hadn’t done that in a long time. The fatigue that had dogged him for the last few weeks melted away when she smiled and slipped her arm through his, leading him into the poshest section of the casino. The dinging bells and whistles of the main casino floor faded as they stepped into the high-stakes room.
She paused in the doorway, and Max realized that she must be new to the VIP hostess thing, because she pulled them into a quiet corner instead of urging him to the table.
“Do you really want to know my secrets?” she asked, her voice dipping low and sounding sensual, husky.
Yes, he thought. But didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t know why he was reacting so strongly to her but knew that he wasn’t himself and he needed to get back on track. He wasn’t looking for another affair. In fact, he was damned tired of them. And right now he needed just to play.
When he said nothing, she flushed and moved away from him. “Sorry if that was too personal. Let’s get you to a table and I’ll get you your favorite drink.”
She started to walk away with her limping gait and he almost let her but didn’t. He stopped her with his fingers on her shoulder. She glanced back at him, and he saw that damned vulnerability in her eyes again. “I do want to know your secrets, Roxy.”
He walked past her and seated himself at a table with a few familiar faces. But instead of concentrating on the cards and the game, he saw only the surprise in Roxy’s blue eyes in his mind.
Roxy tried to remember everything that Hayden had said, especially the part about being friendly but never forgetting that business was the focus of her assignment. Keep the gambler happy and at the tables.
Max made that hard. Every time she dropped off another drink for him, or inquired about his needs, he flirted. And for the first time since she’d wakened in a hospital bed, scarred for life, she felt like flirting back.
He played and won for almost four hours before pushing back from the table. Since this was her first hostessing assignment she had no idea if she should try to make him stay longer.
“Are you sure you want to stop now? You’re on a winning streak.”
“I’m sure. I want to take my hostess to dinner and see if my luck stays.”
“I don’t know if I’m allowed to do that,” she said, knowing she wasn’t lucky but not wanting him to know it. Every time she got close to grasping the brass ring of what she wanted from life, it slipped away. So she knew luck wasn’t with her.
“You’re supposed to keep me happy.”
She wanted to laugh at the way he said it. But didn’t. “Then I guess I’m going to dinner with you. Where do you want to go?”
“I’ll take care of the arrangements,” Max said. He pulled her out of the flow of traffic and reached for his Blackberry.
Immediately she knew she had to keep her head in the game with this man. This was a job. She couldn’t forget it, no matter how tempting it might be to do so. This new assignment was much better than dealing and she didn’t want to mess it up. “No, you won’t. That’s my job.”
“And you take your work seriously?” he asked, arching one eyebrow at her.
She sensed he was teasing, but she couldn’t joke about work. Anyone who’d ever lived off the charity of others learned pride at a heavy cost. “Of course I do.”
“I thought you were new here.”
“New to hostessing. But I’ve worked at the Chimera for almost ten years now.”
“What did you do before?” he asked.
“Danced,” she said. She heard the longing in her own voice and cursed herself for it. She should have been prepared for the question. But most people she encountered either knew her story or didn’t care about her personal life. Max was the first stranger to ask about her since…
“Why’d you stop?” he asked.
A simple little question. She closed her eyes for a moment. Years of practice and discipline gone in a few short minutes. Gone because she’d judged a man and his intentions badly. Don’t do it again, she warned herself.
“Injury,” she said. The lie fell easily from her lips and she hated herself for it. She’d grown up in a world where lies were traded and accepted for the truth. She was becoming her own mother. Something she’d promised herself she’d never do. “But that’s old news. Give me a minute and I’ll get us a table for dinner.”
She turned away from Max and took out her cell phone to call the VIP office. Thirty seconds later everything was set up, and she and Max were on their way to the exclusive five-star restaurant on the fifth floor of the casino.
“Have you eaten here before?” she asked, hoping he’d say no so she could slip easily into her role of tour guide. She led Max past the crowd at the front of the restaurant to the maître d’, very aware of his quiet presence behind her.
“Yes. In fact, the chef/owner is a friend of mine.”
She smiled at the maître d’, Henry, whom she knew from her years at the hotel. Henry winked at her and she relaxed a little. This new job was not what she expected. Or should she say that Max Williams wasn’t what she’d expected. “Mr. Williams and I are ready to be seated.”
“Certainly, Ms. O’Malley. Follow me.”
Max put his hand on Roxy’s back as they moved through the restaurant. She tried to ignore the heat from his large palm, but she couldn’t. It made everything feminine in her pulse into awareness. That long-sleeping part of her, the part that had been dormant even before her accident started to awaken. That scared her.
She was grateful when they reached the table and took their seats. Max asked for the wine list and the sommelier came to their table.
“Do you have a preference?” he asked after the sommelier suggested some wines.
“I usually buy my wine by the gallon in the supermarket,” she said. Then flushed as she realized how that sounded. “I mean—”
Max chuckled. “I have cousins who own a vineyard in the Napa Valley. They’d be outraged to hear that anyone in the U.S. still drinks cheap wine.”
“Sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. Have you ever tried South African wine?”
“Does Gallo make one?”
He laughed. “We’ll have a bottle of the Thelema Chardonnay 1998, Stellenbosch.”
The sommelier left and Max turned his attention to her. She felt uncomfortable under his intense stare, as if she was naked but not in a sexual way. His gaze was probing as if he were trying to fit together all the pieces that made up Roxy O’Malley. She desperately hoped he couldn’t, because Roxy O’Malley wasn’t sure who she was anymore. Not a dancer, not a hot body, not any of the things she’d always been.
Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. “What?”
“What, what?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you are a beautiful woman.”