Damn. She wondered who had triumphed In the test of poker skill last night between Dane and Kelly. She wondered if Kelly had let slip anything that might have told Dane the plate had been recovered. She wondered if she'd ever see Dane again.
The last was a haunting question. She had met him only the night before last, after all, and knew almost nothing about him . . . except that by his own admission he was a gambler and a thief. He was after something from Kelly, that much appeared obvious. But what? A counterfeit plate, he had said. But what proof did she have that such a thing even existed? She hadn't seen it.
Yes, Kelly had clearly been robbed of something – but had it been a plate? And she had only Dane's word that whatever the item was, it had been returned to Kelly.
The sheer force of his personality had carried her along, unsettled but obeying, doubting his explanations yet allowing him to half convince her he was telling the truth.
She realized suddenly, miserably, that he would make an excellent confidence man; he had the uncanny ability to inspire belief even in the face of doubt. And Jennifer couldn't help but wonder if he was playing on her emotions like a master manipulator, using her in some dark game of his own.
Her own response to him was easy to explain, she assured herself. She had been out of control for the first time in her adult life. That was why she had responded so wildly, why she had reacted with such abandon. It hadn't been him, it had been herself. She had been ... oversensitive to everything, including his touch, his kisses. That was all. All.
"Jennifer! Those trousers – "
"Jeans. I'm working, Mother." She picked up a pencil, frowning, trying to look as though that was the truth.
"You have a visitor," Francesca said gently.
Jennifer felt her heart catch, but managed to keep her voice even. "Oh? I wasn't expecting anyone." And she hadn't heard the doorbell.
Her mother's laugh was throaty. "This one would always be unexpected, I think. So handsome! And such charm, ah, I knew he was your man!"
Wincing, Jennifer murmured, "Dane?"
"But of course. Such manners, that one. He asked me if he might take you out this afternoon. Naturally, I said that he had my blessing."
Jennifer slid off her stool, staring at her mother with increasing alarm. It didn't surprise her that Dane had won Francesca over so quickly; her mother was predisposed to love charming men with gallant manners, and Dane was undoubtedly that. "Mother, you didn't . . . you didn't say – "
Francesca lifted a scornful brow. "My baby, would that be subtle? Of course, I did not say that I knew he was your man. This is for him to tell me. And he will." She nodded decisively. "But now, you must change."
"I will not," Jennifer said stubbornly. "And I'm not going anywhere with him." She drew a short breath. "He's a gambler, Mother. A gambler."
Francesca didn't look surprised, but only thoughtful. She studied her daughter for a moment, then shrugged carelessly. "Then you must tell him that, my baby."
Jennifer tossed her pencil aside and squared her shoulders. She turned away from her mother and left the room, unsurprised when Francesca didn't accompany her. Holding on to her fragile surface control, she went into the small living room, determined to stop this insanity. But when she halted two steps into the room and saw him, she couldn't seem to find the words.
He was standing by the fireplace, gazing up at a beautifully framed sketch done in pastels that hung above the mantel. The drawing was of Rufus Chantry, and he was, curiously, dressed as Dane was dressed now, in light-colored sports jacket and pants with a white shirt open at the throat.
"Yours?" Dane questioned softly without looking at her.
"Yes," she answered, admitting to being the artist.
He turned to face her, smiling a little but with unreadable eyes. "A characteristic pose, holding a deck of cards?"
Jennifer glanced past him at the sketch, and felt her throat tighten. "It was the only time he was still," she said, admitting nothing now.
Dane nodded. "I see. Your eyes are gray."
She looked back at him, caught off guard.
"The morning brought doubts, obviously," he murmured.
She wondered if her eyes really did change color, or if that was only his idea. "The doubts were already there," she said in an even tone. "I just took a long hard look at them. "
"And condemned me without a trial?"
Jennifer felt something Inside her turn over with a thud. Oh, he was good, she reminded herself fiercely. He was so good she could feel herself responding to him, even now. That beautiful voice of his controlled just a hint of sadness or bitterness; his smile was crooked, his eyes shadowed and unreadable. Her impulse was to blurt, I'm sorry! because something told her she had hurt him with her doubts, but she held the apology back.
"I don't know why you're here," she said. ignoring his question.
He came to her slowly, but made no effort to touch her when he stood before her. "Will you go for a drive with me?" he asked softly.
"I'm working." Tautly, she added, "Some other time."
"We need to talk, Jenny."
"I've taken myself out of the game," she told him.
"It isn't a game," he said, suddenly rough. "If it was, I wouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here, Jenny, because if Kelly found out – Look, I just want to spend some time with you. Will you come with me?"
She could feel herself weakening, feel the surface control melting away like a thin layer of ice heated from below. Against all reason, she wanted to be with him. "I don't trust you," she heard herself saying bitterly.
"I know." He took her hand and led her toward the front door, as if he knew she would go.
Jennifer didn't protest. She allowed him to take her out to his rented car, which was a gleaming white Ferrari, and put her into the passenger seat. She watched him move around the car and gracefully fit his big frame behind the wheel.
"Why do big men always drive sports cars?" she asked idly.
Dane sent her a faint smile as he started the powerful car and put it into gear. "Some macho thing, I suppose."
"Don't you know?" She was smiling despite herself.
"I've never thought about it." He guided the car out of the driveway and onto the main road, heading for Lake Charles. "Personally, I just like sports cars. They're powerful, maneuverable, fast." He sent her another glance, this one full of irony. "Sometimes, the answers are simple ones."
"And sometimes they aren't." She watched his hands on the wheel, beautiful and powerful, remembered them on her body, moving her unbearably. She tried to block those Images and sensations, tried to ignore them. It hadn't been Dane, she reminded herself grimly; it had been she. Her lack of control. Her emotions spilling over. "Did you win last night?"
"No."
"Was that intentional?"
He shrugged slightly. "I wasn't trying too hard, if that's what you mean. I was sizing him up, studying him."
"He won?"
Dane nodded. "He came out ahead."
"Did he cheat?"
After a moment, Dane said, "When I told you that I know how to spot someone else cheating, I meant that. It's part of my reputation as a gambler. I made sure Kelly knew it. He doesn't need to cheat, Jenny. He's good."
She half turned in her seat, looking at him. "Better than you?" she asked.
"I don't know. Maybe. I'll find out tonight."
Jennifer was trying to concentrate on what they were saying, fighting to ignore her body's response to his nearness. Only the gear console separated them, and she was all too conscious of his big, powerful body so close. But it was just a memory; she didn't really feel anything, she thought. "Do you have to beat him? I mean, is that part of the plan?"
Dane frowned. "Kelly's had some business losses the past year or so. He's close to bankruptcy. Like most gamblers, he believes he can win enough to straighten out his finances. He's also smart enough to know that It wouldn't be wise to try and win that much from his usual poker cronies; h
e got into the neighborhood that way, but if he kept beating them ..."
"No one would want to play against him?"
"Exactly."
"Which is why you're here," she guessed.
Nodding, Dane said, "An old friend of Kelly's is a high stakes poker player, world-class. Kelly called him and more or less asked him to find another gambler with money to lose. He called me; we've played against each other down in Miami. I came out here with him, and to that party night before last, specifically to be introduced and invited to play poker with Garrett Kelly and his group."
"Isn't that unusual?" she asked. "To come all this way?"
"No. My reputation is that I'll go anywhere for a good game. There are about a dozen of us like that, scattered around the country."
"With money to lose."
Dane glanced at her again, hearing the note in her voice that resonated with bitterness. Then he looked ahead, concentrated on driving, and when he spoke, he kept his voice deliberate. "Kelly's friend called me last week; I was busy at the time. Then I called him back and told him I was interested."
"Because of the friend who wanted you to check Kelly's safe?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.
"Yes. She'd already found out Kelly was a high-stakes player, and thought I could get in there easier than anyone else she knew. It was a good idea, and it worked."
She? The brunette, Jennifer thought, but didn't ask. "And then you found the plate."
"Unexpectedly, yes."
Jennifer was silent for a few moments, working through the information. "So your plan now is to strain Kelly's resources so that he has to print counterfeit money?"
"He didn't pass any last night, but he doesn't have much cash on hand; he keeps it in that safe. If I can push him right to the wall, make him bet all the cash he has and then win it from him, hell have to do something."
"He could be printing the money now."
Dane hesitated, then said, "If so, well know where the press is hidden. I have a partner working with me, Jenny. He's watching Belle Retour. One of us will have Kelly under observation constantly."
Jennifer stared at him, baffled. "Dane, none of this makes sense."
"Doesn't it?"
She felt tense, uncertain. "No. It's – it's out of character for a gambler to be doing what you're doing. Even a professional gambler. If what you've told me is the truth, then you have to be something more. Something else."
He was silent for a few moments, then swore under his breath and turned the car off the main road near a park, finally stopping It and turning the engine off. In the distance, they could see the Calcasieu River.
Dane half turned toward her. "Jenny, I want you to understand something. I'm a gambler. By nature, by inclination, and by profession. I've won and lost more than one fortune. This week I could stake two houses, a condo, and a yacht – in a week, I may well be the next best thing to broke. That's a fact, and nothing else can change it. Believe that. It's the truth."
"But there's more," she said, powerfully feeling the truth of her words.
He sighed roughly. "There's always more. Over the years, I've made a number of friends in the intelligence community. It's not so surprising; I'm often in a position to know things, to be aware of – well, movements and such. So I became an information broker. You might say it's a fringe benefit of being a world-class poker player. And sometimes, when an agent asks me to cultivate a certain person, to try to get a particular piece of information, I do."
"This friend of yours, she's an agent?"
"She was. Retired now, and happily married. Her husband is a very powerful man, and someone's trying to get at him. The trail led to Kelly."
Jennifer drew a deep breath. "And your partner? He's an agent, isn't he?"
"Yes. And my best friend." Dane smiled a bit crookedly. "I haven't explained this much to anyone in ten years. I can't prove any of it, Jenny."
She nodded slowly. "I know. But I believe you."
"Why?" he asked curiously. "It all sounds so unlikely. Intelligence agents, counterfeit operations, powerful men with secret enemies – and me, a gambler, the pivot."
"Maybe that's why I believe it." She smiled faintly. "Because it sounds so unlikely. It's too elaborate to be a lie. Too involved."
"Does that mean you trust me now?"
"I trust what you're doing. It makes sense; It explains why you're here."
"But you still don't trust me."
Jennifer hesitated, still refusing to believe what her instincts and intuition insisted she believe: that she could trust him with every part of herself, even her heart. It was absurd. Irrational, just the residue of powerful emotions freed by her own lack of control. "I don't know," she heard herself say finally. "You've told me what you are, but not who you are. I still don't have that answer."
"Not one of the simple answers, I guess." He turned his gaze toward the windshield, frowning again. "You always think you know who you are. Until someone asks. Then all you can answer with are a few concrete facts. Want to hear those?"
"Yes." She was watching his profile, listening to his deep, beautiful voice.
"All right. I'm thirty-five, born in Chicago and raised there. My parents still live there. I have a sister and brother, both younger. And I worked my way through college by waiting tables and playing poker."
"Do you have a degree?" she asked curiously.
He looked at her with a sudden smile. "Yes. Law." His voice was dry, fully appreciative of the irony.
Jennifer had to smile. "You were never tempted to practice?".
"Not really. There are already too many lawyers in the world."
"And a welcome dearth of gamblers?"
"Skilled gamblers, yes."
"So you just became one?"
Dane was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "I won a fortune. I'd been trying to decide if I wanted to practice law. What I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Then I got involved in a high-stakes game. A friend with a lot more money than I had staked me. He said he'd put up the money, and I'd keep half the winnings if there were any. He believed I could win, and I did, Half the winnings turned out to be a fortune. I never looked back."
She gazed at him, conscious of some emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on. What was it? The feeling that there was more to this, that Dane was holding back some vital bit of Information. It was something elusive, and she couldn't grasp it. "No roots?" she asked.
"I carry my roots around with me." He smiled faintly. "No regrets. Jenny."
"Have you ever lost everything?"
"Everything I bet, yes. Everything I had, no. That's the professional part of me. If I lost everything, I'd have nothing to rebuild with."
"That's the way you think of it? Rebuilding?"
"Sure."
They were silent for a while, Jennifer gazing out through the windshield and Dane watching her. Then, quietly, he asked, "Are we going to talk about us now?"
She refused to look at him. Her surface control was fragile at best, and she was afraid of what lay underneath it. There was too much that was instinctive and wild. And not real. Her feelings couldn't be real. Wary of where they might take her, she didn't trust the feelings. She'd make a fool of herself again. Imagining –
"Jenny?"
"Why me?" she asked, still not looking at him. "It was very sudden. Or do you have a girl along with a poker game in every city?"
Dane looked at her face, lovely and serious, then at the slender hands laced tightly together in her lap. The glossy shell of calm she wore was just that, he knew. What he didn't know was how she really felt about him. Mistrustful, certainly. He could make her want him, but he was too experienced not to know that desire could exist without deeper feelings. He thought she was cautious now, still surprised and unsettled by her emotional storm of yesterday, and had probably begun doubting her own feelings, her response to him.
And he was a gambler, everything she most mistrusted.
He waited until
she looked at him, then said, "I didn't plan on you. I shouldn't even be with you. Jenny. But I couldn't stay away." He hesitated, then added harshly, "I know I'm the last man in the world you want to get Involved with. I guess you didn't plan on me either."
"No, I didn't." Caught again by his eyes, she couldn't look away. "I don't know what you want from me."
Dane reached out slowly and smoothed a strand of pale gold away from her cheek. She wore her hair loosely today, falling over her shoulders like silk, and his hand slid around to the soft nape of her neck, under the warm weight of it. He could feel her tremble, and his own body tensed in an instant response.
"What can I say to that?" he murmured.
"The truth." Her voice was husky, almost a plea.
Dane hesitated, but he didn't dare tell her how he felt. Not yet – if he ever could. It might turn out to be something she would never want to hear from him. "I want a chance. That's all. Jenny. We both know there's something between us. All I want is a chance to find out what it Is."
It wasn't real. Jennifer thought wildly, feeling herself drawn slowly toward him. Those feelings of yesterday . . . But they were rising Inside her again, with nothing but him to trigger them, no previous outburst to blast her control into splinters.
When his lips touched hers she wanted to hold herself stiffly, but it was impossible. The console separated them below the waist, and Dane made no effort to pull her upper body against his. His right hand remained curled around her neck, and his left hand rested gently over both hers. He kissed her without force, a slow, gradually deepening seduction.
Jennifer couldn't fight the sensations – or him. And she couldn't deny, this time, that he ignited the feelings inside her.
The slow probing of his tongue, a secret caress, filled her senses with building heat, and she was swaying toward him without thought. She wanted him, as quickly as that, as certain as she had been before. She •wanted him, and didn't care where they were or what tomorrow would bring.
A rough sound escaped Dane when his lips left hers, and both his hands cupped her face warmly. "You see?" he murmured huskily. "Neither of us can ignore this, Jenny."