All In (5 page)

He nodded like he actually cared about university politics. “And the rest of it? The other reason I didn’t see you at lunch. You were avoiding me.”

It wasn’t a question and Daisy didn’t feel like defending herself. She shrugged. “You make me nervous.”

“You don’t like me?”

“That’s not the problem…” She liked him a little too much. She frowned. “I’m just not interested. Maybe you should leave.”

“Can’t. Food’s not here yet.” He nodded toward her computer. “More emails?”

“Surveillance footage of the tournament.”

“Impressive.” Green eyes blinked in surprise. “I couldn’t get that without a court order. Want to share?”

Daisy wanted him to leave, but that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

So, she grabbed her computer and lowered herself carefully onto the couch beside Ryan. There was a small valley between them, but—fuck—she could still feel the heat from his body. She placed the laptop carefully on the chair across from them and pressed play.

Daisy grabbed the notepad she’d been using earlier and started checking off bets. Hands. Cards. Wagers. She noted anything of possible interest and found…nothing.

After a while the food showed up and Daisy continued taking notes between bites. “It’s weird,” she said after the fries were gone and the last trace of burger had been licked from her fingers. “I’m not seeing anything.”

“What are you looking for?” Ryan asked, shifting closer on the couch.

“You really want to know?”

“Sure.” He shrugged, and she could feel muscles tensing and relaxing in his shoulders. “If you know what you’re doing.”

“I had a good teacher,” Daisy said. But Ryan sounded genuinely interested, so she told him about all the things she’d learned to look for during her summers at the Rollio: wild bets, progressive strategies, and electronic counters.

He listened better than a lecture hall full of math majors, paying attention and asking relevant questions.

After a while, his expression became thoughtful. His brows furrowed, as if he was mulling something over in his head. “I might know your problem.”

“And?”

“And you’re not going to like it.” Now, he was looking at her. When her gaze turned in his direction, his expression was firm. His lips pressed together in a straight line. “You’re a bad player. You spend too much time looking at the chips and the cards.”

“I can win.”

“Because most people are bad poker players, but the people at the tournament? They’re the cream of the crop—professionals or truly gifted amateurs—and they’ve got a different strategy.”

Could he be right?

Her gaze flicked back toward the shot of Ryan on the screen. The tiny image seemed so relaxed, so confident, whether he won or lost. He had a perfect poker face.

Maybe he’d been right earlier.

Maybe she was a bad player, but that didn’t mean she was going to give up on Bullet. It just meant she needed to learn the techniques that professional players used during tournaments. Daisy could learn anything if she tried hard enough.

She just needed the right teacher.

Damn it.

“Sorry,” Ryan said, and his body was so close she could feel the heat from his skin and the weight of his knee against hers.

For a moment, the lights around Daisy danced, and then she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. Asking Ryan for help. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. She squared her shoulders. “I’m a good poker player. I know the math backward and forward.”

“You’re a fucking machine, babe. I bet you clean up at video poker. But that’s not what I said—”

“It’s okay.” She hurried on before he could interrupt again, “Can you teach me?”

Ryan’s head cocked to the side. His eyes gleamed. It looked like he was about to laugh and then he sighed. He shook his head. “You want a lesson in playing poker?”

She wanted him to leave before she attached herself to his lips like a sex-starved moray eel.

But a poker lesson was a close second.

“Please,” Daisy said.

“Yeah.” Ryan nodded. His green eyes were dark. His gaze never left her lips. “We can do that.”

Chapter Seven

Ryan was going to hell and Daisy was taking him there. Brains, beauty, and a way of talking that had him wanting to listen to her all night—even when she’d thrown enough math into her lesson on poker cheats to make his head spin. The woman was original sin incarnate.

Pure temptation.

He shouldn’t be in her hotel room and he definitely shouldn’t be teaching her how to be a better poker player. He was supposed to be in
his
room looking at files, brushing up on Edgar Blethins.

Stephanie had stopped by after the game. The forensic accountants in New Jersey weren’t getting very far. She wanted to know what he’d found.

It wasn’t much. When Ryan had realized that Daisy wasn’t showing up for lunch, he’d made initial contact with Blethins. The man was an anti-social louse. They’d talked for ten minutes and Blethins hadn’t even remembered Ryan’s name at the end of it.

And that made gaining access to his laptop even more of a challenge…not that Ryan wouldn’t rise to the occasion. If he couldn’t make friends with the man then he’d just have to do things the old-fashioned way, breaking into Blethins’s room at the first opportunity.

But that would have to be tomorrow.

Tonight he had a poker lesson to give.

“You got some cards?” he asked. Maybe he should run back to his room and grab a deck. He could run his head under some cold water while he was there.

Both of his heads.

“This is a casino,” Daisy said. “They’re in every room.”

“Right.” No cold shower then. Ryan stood up and walked over to the mini-bar. “We need beer. You can’t play real poker without beer.”

“Pretty sure that’s not true.”

“Am I the expert?” He grabbed a couple of beers, then went back for the tiny bottles of scotch. “Let me know the charge for the mini-bar and I’ll cover it. I’ve got a per-diem.”

“And I’ve got Bullet comping my room.”

“Right.” Ryan turned to face Daisy.

She’d found the cards.

She’d also moved to the bed. It made sense. They could sit across from each other and have a mile-long playing space on the king-size mattress.

It didn’t mean anything. Sure, they’d kissed—three times—but Daisy had made it clear she wasn’t interested.

But now she was staring up at him with those deep blue eyes. Her legs were crossed. Her cheeks were flushed. She licked her lips and…
damn
.

Ryan took a deep breath, fighting back his half-formed erection, and dumped the booze on the bed. “I feel like I’m contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

Full lips pushed out into a pout. “I’m twenty-four.”

“You’re—”
Perfect.
He swallowed back the thought and tried to drag his gaze away from her lips. Today’s shirt was blue. It said “Fiat Lux.” Where the hell was she getting these things? He shook his head. “Fine. You’re fine.”

He sat down across from her and popped the cap open on a bottle of beer. “Deal.”

“Hold ’em?”

“Five-card draw.” It was the simplest form of poker he could think of, the way the game was played in dorm rooms and around kitchen tables. “You’re not going to learn advanced strategy tonight.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“I’m going to teach you how to bluff, because, honestly, sweetheart, you’re one of the worst liars I’ve ever seen.”

Daisy’s expression curled. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were wide. She looked hurt.

Too damn bad. Ryan wasn’t about to pussy foot around her feelings. “You sigh. You shake. You lick your damn lips. It’s enough to drive a man to distraction, sure, but it’s also a tell. You might as well take out a billboard on the strip.”

Daisy’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips and Ryan’s erection went from half formed to persistent. Pure temptation. “I. Do. Not. Lick. My. Lips.”

“You just did.”

She snorted angrily, but at least she didn’t try to contradict him. He didn’t know if his jeans would hold.

“Five-card draw.” She opened the box of cards and slid the deck out. Her fingers shuffled capably if not elegantly and she dealt. “Pick ’em up.”

“Nope.” Ryan took a long pull on his beer. “First we need to ante up.”

“There are chips in the side table.”

“Not chips.” He really was going to hell, but by God, he’d have a fun time going there. “I watched you today. You play a nice, calm, tight game of poker—maybe the tightest game I’ve ever seen. You never give anyone an inch. You always play the odds. You never flinch. It’s so damn logical…but that’s not what poker’s about.”

“Fifty-two cards is a closed system.” Daisy snorted. “Sounds pretty logical to me.”

“Nope. Poker is all about your opponent. It’s about knowing what the other guy’s thinking and being able to use it against him.” Ryan chuckled. “It’s a lot like police work that way. It’s about being excited. It’s about being invested. Now…” His grip tightened on the long neck bottle of beer. “Take off your shirt.”

Her head jerked upright. Blood stained her cheeks a nice merlot. “Excuse me?”

“I told you, poker’s about being invested. It’s about knowing exactly what you have to lose.” He nodded toward the bed. “Ante up.”

Part of him wanted Daisy to say no.

To tell him to go to hell.

He’d go get the chips. They’d play a few regular hands of poker. It would be over soon and they’d call it a night.

But then Little Miss I’m-Not-Interested took off her T-shirt and let the warm cotton drift down onto the bed.

Her bra was purple and pink striped with a little heart-shaped charm hanging in the middle. Her skin was silky. Her breasts were full and firm—the perfect size to fit a man’s hand—and her waist was toned. When she took a deep breath, everything jiggled nicely.

“Your turn,” she said.

Ryan scrambled out of his shirt as fast as humanly possible. He tossed the Henley onto the bed beside her T-shirt.

“The scar on your shoulder,” Daisy said. “Where’d you get that?”

“I was attacked by a rhino,” Ryan lied. He’d already told Daisy too much about the investigation. He wasn’t going to tell her about the shooting, too. “Those horns are sharp.”

Then he finally picked up his cards. Nothing much.

He glanced over at Daisy.

She was holding her cards and smiling. Her free hand curved protectively across her bare belly. Her breath came a little faster, as if she could smell blood in the water. “I’ve got nothing.”

Worst. Liar. Ever.

“Deep breath,” Ryan counseled. “Concentrate on your opponent, not the cards.”

“Fuck you.” Daisy glared. “You’ve got nothing.”

“Good guess. You’ve got a pair at least.” Her brow slammed together in surprise, but her lips twitched. Better than a pair. “Make that three of a kind.”

Her expression fell. “How’d you know?”

“Because I know you. I know how you look when you’re excited. I want to know how you look when you come.” She was staring at him, all tense disbelief. Obviously no one had ever talked to her that way before. Too damn bad. Before the night was over, he was going to do a lot more than talk.

“You’ve got a dirty mind.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe.” She nodded toward the cards. “Go.”

They played out the rest of the hand. Daisy won. She looked damned relieved when she took both pieces of clothing and pulled her shirt back on over her messy black curls.

Then Ryan took off his pants.

The worn denim stuck to his thighs and he had to shimmy to get them off without standing up. It wasn’t the most graceful move he’d ever made, but from the expression on Daisy’s face, it was more than adequate. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth hung open.

“Wha—what are you doing?” she stammered.

“I’ve got to be able to make my bet.” Ryan placed his pants between them. If he’d known they were going to be playing strip poker, he might have dressed differently. He definitely would have layered. As it was, he had three pieces of clothing to throw into the pot: shirt, pants, and skivvies.

And he’d already lost his shirt.

Daisy had taken off her shoes and socks when she got back from the tournament, but she’d still started off with a competitive advantage: shirt, pants, panties, and bra. She’d had four pieces of clothing to his three. Now she had five and he had two.

Ryan wasn’t worried. The way Daisy was looking at his chest—and swallowing hard as she did it—he knew he had the advantage. Even if she’d learned how to lie in the last two minutes, his near nakedness would still throw her.

That really shouldn’t make Ryan happy.

“You’re really not interested?” He took the cards and shuffled.

“I’m not—” Daisy started. “I—I don’t do relationships.”

Ryan blinked in surprise. “You’re saying you’ve never—” He swallowed hard against the thought. A virgin in the wild. A twenty-four-year-old innocent. It was like seeing a strange and mythical creature. Next, he’d spot a unicorn. “Okay, I respect that.”

“What?” Daisy shook her head. “No, no. I’m not some untouched flower. For fuck’s sake! I went to college.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “Right. So you just don’t do…relationships?”

“True love, breakfast, all that nonsense.” Daisy waved a hand as the cards were dealt. “I don’t fall in love. I don’t do relationships.”

It was kind of sad. Daisy looked like a Disney princess. She deserved true love and flowers. She deserved a dashing prince who would join her in a stunning duet before the finale. Unfortunately, she was sitting in a hotel room with Ryan.

One hundred percent frog.

No amount of kissing would help.

“I’m not asking for forever, honey.” Hell, next week, he’d probably be assigned to a job somewhere in Alaska or the Arctic Circle. That would make his bosses happy.

Or maybe Morelli would figure out that Ryan was still on his tail and he’d just be dead. The mob boss may be in jail, but he still had connections in the real world.

His hand went up to cover the scar on his shoulder. Fingers pressed against the small star-shaped splintering of skin where the bullet had entered his body.

Sometimes he wished it really had been a rhinoceros.

“All I’m asking for is hot, sexy fun,” he continued.

It probably wasn’t the smart thing to do, but, damn, it would feel good.

He hadn’t had sex since the shooting. It had been eleven months, almost a year. People had started to notice.

He’d been busy.

Between physical therapy, helping out Jack, and getting back on the job, his last year had been jam-packed. The truth was, he hadn’t been interested in sex for a long time.

Not until Daisy.

He looked at his cards. The tiny numbers swam in front of his face. Five little clubs stared up at him. It was a natural flush. Perfect. He kept his expression calm.

“No pressure,” he added. “Just two people playing a game.”

They played a few more hands. Eventually Daisy lost her pants, revealing toned legs that would feel just right wrapped around his waist. Her panties were black boy-shorts that hugged her lush hips. Her face was clouded.

It was Daisy’s turn to deal. Her hands fumbled with the cards.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Ryan said.

“It’s okay.” Her teeth worried at her bottom lip. “Let’s keep going.”

She’d need to ante up in a minute, taking off her bra to reveal the juicy breasts Ryan had been fantasizing about for days.

Now was not the time to have a sudden attack of chivalry.

Ryan’s stomach churned. This didn’t feel right. “You really don’t have to,” he said.

“And if I want to?” she said. “If I want some—how did you put it—hot, sexy fun?”

His heart was pounding against his chest. He’d collected a nice pile of clothes on his side of the bed, but he hadn’t bothered to put on any of it. Sitting there in a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else, his arousal was obvious. He wasn’t about to turn her down but damn if he didn’t want to give her more.

He was still a frog, but he could dream about being a prince.

“Then why don’t we make things a little more interesting?” Ryan asked. “If you win this hand, you get your shirt back. If I win, I get a kiss.”

Something glimmered in her deep blue eyes. “Yeah, that could work.”

The woman was going to be the death of him.

Ryan had finished his first beer. He started another one while she dealt. When Daisy gave a nod toward the drink, he opened one for her, too. She took a long pull, slicking the bottleneck with her saliva.

Hair stood up on the back of Ryan’s neck. His skin suddenly felt like it was two sizes too small. The entire world contracted to the warm circle of Daisy’s mouth.

This time, when he looked down at his cards, he didn’t bother hiding his reaction.

Mistake. Apparently the tips he’d been offering had stuck because a few minutes later, he was handing over Daisy’s shirt. They kept playing. Daisy really was good at poker. Maybe there
was
something to the statistical approach.

Ryan dealt another hand, determined to earn his kiss. Clothes passed back and forth between the two of them and no one bothered to put anything back on.

Ryan was the first one to up his bets, kicking things up a notch when he threw in a second article of clothing after the draw. Daisy caught on quick enough, matching his wager.

They played like that for a little while until Ryan was down to almost nothing—just the underwear he was sitting in.

“You’re going to lose,” Daisy chortled happily. “Take off the panties.”

“Men don’t wear panties. They wear briefs.” Ryan grinned. “You’ve got to let me bet something else.”

“Fine.” Daisy finished off her beer. She dropped the bottle to join Ryan’s empties on the floor beside the bed. Then she leaned forward. “I want a kiss.”

Clearly, he’d created a monster.

“Deal,” Ryan said.

He picked his cards up off the bed. He looked at his hand. It was okay, but not great. There was a pair of fours. Nothing else. He frowned and looked up at Daisy.

Her face was smooth. She was completely unreadable.

The woman really was a good student.

Ryan had a second to thank God Daisy had decided to focus on math instead of something more dangerous. If she’d brought that much focus and brain power to something like political science, world domination would have been just a few steps away.