And I know Mr. Stone is bluffing.
He studies me for a long moment before resting his elbows on the table and placing his cards facedown on it. “You’re bluffing.”
“Try me.” I lick my lips. “Unless you’re scared.”
The guys around the table watch us with amusement, and my fighting talk gets an ‘oooh’ out of someone.
“Scared? Not of you, Bambi.”
I ignore the old pet name and tilt my head. “Show your hand.”
Slowly, he flips the cards and spreads them across the table in front of us. “Full house.”
“Ooooh,” comes from the guys who all folded.
I shrug a shoulder and sigh. “Dammit.”
Aaron smirks.
“You should have listened.” I lay my cards out. “Four of a kind. Read ‘em and weep, handsome.”
The smirk drops from his face when his eyes crawl over my cards. “Fuck.”
“Hard luck, buddy.” One of the guys—I’ve never been good with names—pats his shoulder as they file out of the room.
I grin at Aaron across the table.
“I can’t believe you just beat me at poker.”
I pick up my glass again and empty it, keeping my eyes on his. “I can’t believe you’re surprised.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be.” He stands and walks around the table to me. He spins my chair so I’m facing him, and I tilt my head back to look at him. “What other tricks do you have stashed up your sleeves, hmm?”
“If I tell you, they won’t be tricks any longer.” I run a finger down the lapel of his jacket, the white tip of my manicure a stark contrast against the black material. “And they won’t be half as fun.”
He raises a dark eyebrow. “I guess not. Just don’t beat me at blackjack. I’m not sure my ego can take the battering.”
“Oh, I might just beat you at everything for calling me Bambi.”
“It slipped out.”
Now I raise an eyebrow. “The last time you called me Bambi you’d followed me to the Charles de Gaulle airport because you were worried you wouldn’t get to say goodbye. Now you’re saying it over poker?”
He smiles and leans forward. “Like I said, it slipped out.”
“And I’m calling bullshit. You knew what you were saying.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
His eyes dare me to keep arguing with him, but the lingering memory of the past begs me not to. I need to remember I’m not here to relive the most amazing summer of my life, no matter how hard it is to avoid.
Who the f**k am I kidding?
“Come on. Since you won, you can buy me a drink.” Aaron takes my hands and eases me up from the chair.
“You’re going to let a woman buy you a drink? Damn.”
“Good point.” He pulls me closer to him. “I’ll buy you a drink, and we’ll make this an ‘I owe you.’”
“We will?”
“Yes, and I’m about to cash it in.”
“You are?”
“The head of the Vegas office will be meeting us at the main bar in twenty minutes with his wife.” Goose bumps erupt on my skin where he trails his fingers up my arm. “He’ll be calling my father as soon as he gets to work tomorrow, who, per my mother’s request, will ask about us. I think he should have something good to report back, don’t you?”
I purse my lips. “That’s what you’re paying me for.”
He dips his head forward. “So take the favor and make it twice as good.” His breath crawls over my mouth with his words, the warmth making me part my lips. It carries a lingering scent of the whisky he’s been sipping all night, a woody smell reminiscent of oak.
“You have no idea what you’re asking me to do,” I warn him.
“That’s the fun part.”
I flatten my hands against his chest and push him back. “I’m serious, Aaron. This is my job. Giving people something to talk about is what I do when I escort.”
His eyes hit me, deadly serious. “Give it your best.”
I pick my purse up from the table and pause in the doorway, glancing over my shoulder. “As you wish.”
I slip my hand around his arm and add some extra sway to my hips as we walk through the casino. Eyes follow me wherever I go, and I’ll bet anything that the swish of my dress is exactly what they’re looking at. I raise my right hand and smooth my hair back, letting everyone get a glance at the bracelet glittering on my wrist.
Their quiet groans form an ironically loud chorus of music that makes my lips twitch. This is where I’m comfortable, where I’m home. Men watching me, wanting me, wishing they were the guy whose arm I’m clinging to. That’s my life. That’s where I excel. Making them watch me. Making them want me.
And their wives? Their girlfriends? I excel at making them wish they were me.
We walk through into the quiet restaurant and I take a seat at the bar. Aaron orders a glass of wine for me and a bourbon for himself, turning to me when the guy goes to get our drinks.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice what you did back there,” he says in a low voice.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I give him my best innocent eyes.
His lips quirk into that smirk, and he steps forward when the barman disappears again. He rests his hand on my waist, his fingers flexing against the lace of my dress, and drops his eyes to mine.
“No, you have no idea of the effect you have on men simply by walking past them.”
“Not at all.” I run my fingers up his stomach, ignoring the feeling of solid muscle there, and tweak his bow tie. “It’s not my job to know the effect I have on them, rather, merely to affect them.”
“Well let me say you do it”—he bends his head toward mine—“spectacularly.”
“Thank you.” I pull on the tie harder and it unravels, hanging loosely around his neck. Then I undo the top button of his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I lean up and rest my mouth by his ear. “Giving people something to talk about. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing?” My thigh brushes against his as I cross my legs.
“It’s absolutely what you should be doing.” Aaron says his words into my hair, and I turn my face into his.
“Then you should stop questioning me and allow me to do it.”
His hand flattens against my back, drawing us closer. “You play a dangerous game, Dayton.”