Gambling on Love (Stories of Serendipity #6) (10 page)

“I didn’t come here to kill you, Darrin.” They were standing outside the car now, and Luke emptied the gun, putting the bullets into his pocket before tossing it back into the driver’s seat of the car. “I came to get Kathy’s money back. You stole her savings. Her security.”

Darrin had visibly relaxed when Luke had rid himself of the firearm, and his easy-going manner returned. “I don’t have it, man. I’m sorry. It’s gone.” He held his hands out in a placating gesture which was lost on Luke.

“Okay, let me rephrase that. Kathy’s my wife. We live in Texas, a community property state. So you stole MY money. I want it back,” Luke growled. He didn’t want to pull this card. It was Kathy’s money, but this guy was scared of him, not Kathy. As it should be.

“Look man, I don’t have it—” Luke interrupted him with a well-placed punch to the nose, causing blood to erupt over Darrin’s white polo shirt. The man whimpered through his hands, eyes wide and disbelieving. Luke followed up with two quick punches to the gut, doubling Darrin over with wheezing breaths. A chop to the back of his neck brought him to his knees, and Luke kicked him once, for effect, silently thanking his father for putting up the punching bag in the garage when he and Connor were teenagers.

Luke reached into his pocket. “Let me tell you something.” He re-played Darrin’s “confession” for the man, and watched his reaction. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “You messed with the wrong woman. She may be naïve, but she’s got a lot of people watching her back, and you are going to give me her money, or I’m taking this to the police and you’ll go to jail. Las Vegas PD doesn’t like people who prey on tourists.”

“Are you the boyfriend?”

The question surprised Luke. She’d told this asshole about him? He nodded slowly, wondering what she’d said.

When Darrin slipped his hand inside his pocket, Luke took a step back, getting into a ready stance. He knew he carried the knife, but didn’t know what else he might have in his khaki pants and didn’t want to be caught unaware. His fists came up in front of his face, ready to attack. Darrin tossed him a roll of bills, but he didn’t catch it, his eyes not leaving the man in front of him.

“Can I ask you something?” Luke nodded, still watching him. “Why did you let her go and do something like that?” His posture had relaxed and he was the easy-going frat boy again. Luke wasn’t fooled. “She’s a sweet girl, and she’s got a banging body. I mean, if she was mine, I never would have let her get away from me.”

Luke relaxed his posture, but he still watched the guy, not answering. “Let me ask you something. You’re a decent looking guy. Why did you answer the ad in the first place?”

Darrin shrugged. “The women here are all used up. I saw a chance at something with someone who wasn’t from around here, and I thought it might be a good deal. I wasn’t the only one there with that in mind.”

“Then why didn’t you try anything?”

Another shrug. “She’s hung up on you. Anybody who had a five minute conversation could see that. And I had fifteen. None of the answers measured up to some hidden criteria in her mind. She was comparing everyone’s answers to you.” Darrin looked Luke up and down, and Luke felt a flush of something inside him.

“Get back in the car, asshole.”

Relief radiated off the man in waves as he got back in the car and buckled his seatbelt. Luke picked up the wad of money from the ground at his feet and got into the driver’s side, putting the gun back under the seat.

“So, we’re cool now?” Darrin asked hesitantly.

“No. We are not cool. I told you I didn’t bring you out here to kill you. I still have the recording and my gun, so if you try anything, you’re either dead or going to jail. So shut the fuck up.” He started the car and turned it around.

“Thanks for not leaving me out there. It gets really cold at night.”

“I said shut the fuck up,” Luke gritted out, and thankfully, Darrin did.

When they got back to the city, Luke pulled over to let Darrin out of the car.

“Uh…can I have cab money? This is a pretty bad area.”

“You didn’t leave Kathy with cab money. You walk, asshole. You still have a phone, frat boy. Call for help, and hope your friends get to you before they do.” Luke pointed to the two homeless men ambling toward them and squealed tires in his haste to leave Darrin alone in the warehouse district. He was going back to Kathy.

An elbow in his ribs brought him out of his recollection, and Luke saw Bryan standing next to him. “You gonna come back to us? Or are you going to watch them through the window all night?” Luke had meandered over to the kitchen window, where he watched Kathy talk to her girlfriends, telling them her version of what had happened in Vegas. He hadn’t realized he’d moved. Kathy was wearing the dress she’d gotten married in, a cream slip of satin that showed off her stunning legs. It was an off the shoulder affair that showcased her collar bones, and dipped low, letting Luke clearly imagine her perfect pleasure pods. He swallowed the anticipation of licking a path between them.

“I think it’s about time you guys left. I’m ready to be alone with my wife.”

Bryan cracked a grin and turned to the rest of the guys. “Honeymoon apparently isn’t over. We’ve been given the shaft, boys.” Good-natured grumbles accompanied clinking bottles hitting the trashcan, as the men gathered their things to leave.

Connor came up to Luke, who was still watching in the kitchen window. “Hey, man. Congratulations again. I’m glad everything got straightened out.” Connor clapped Luke’s shoulder affectionately before they hugged. “I’m not sure what you did to deserve that hero-worship she heaps on you, but you’re one lucky man.”

Luke shrugged. “I did what you would have done man. I just got her out of a bind.” He followed Connor in as everybody said their good-byes. He fielded more than his share of congratulations, as well as a few admiring looks from the girls, wondering what Kathy had told them.

When everybody had gone, Luke gathered Kathy in his arms and planted a smoldering kiss on her lips, as always reveling in her sweetness, the aftertaste of wine, and the softness of his wife. His wife. His.

Thank you for reading my latest installment in the Stories of Serendipity. If you liked it, I encourage you to leave a review, and tell others about it. My family appreciates you.

Keep reading for the first chapter of the next Story of Serendipity, My Mistake due out in 2014.

Chapter 1

S
weaty skin sticks together as hot gasps tear the air to shreds. Fingernails grip backs, buttocks, nipples. Teeth graze flesh and toes curl. The scent of candle wax and body oils fill the room. Souls collide in a mesh of desires, if only for a brief period in time.

This is what happens to Casey, every time she sees the man down the street, working on the roof of Mr. Jackson’s house. Of course, he doesn’t realize she’s been undressing him all week long, as she sips a cold beer on her porch. But that’s okay. It’s not like it’s anything that’s going to ever happen in her lifetime.

She sighs as today, for the fourth day in a row, she watches him climb the ladder, a package of shingles slung over his shoulder like a rag doll. His tan muscular shoulder, completely visible through his T-shirt that sticks to him with sweat, flexes and bunches with the movement.

Licking her lips, Casey took another sip of her beer, drinking in the sight of the nameless worker down the street. Once he got up on the roof, he dropped the shingles and stood there, wiping sweat from his brow. A gust of wind blew by, and Casey pushed her hair back out of her eyes, so she can keep watching him.

Except now, she sees he’s watching her.

His movements stilled, and he put one hand on his hips, standing on Mr. Jackson’s roof, jeans slung low, T-shirt a little too snug for polite company, casting a shadow over his features with a hand to his brow to block out the sun. He looked at her for a little while, then seemed to come to some conclusion, as he tossed Casey a casual wave, and squatted to get back to work.

He knows I’m watching him, now.

But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the power that emanated from the man on the roof. She knew she was being stupid, fantasizing about a stranger. Crazy, even. Stalkerish.

But she couldn’t help it. He looked familiar.

She wasn’t close enough to see his features clearly, but there was just something about him that she recognized.

Casey sat there, legs crossed to ease the ache in her loins. Her arms brushed across her nipples, which were stiff as pencil erasers, straining against her tank top, every time she raised her beer bottle to her lips. This guy made her hot. Hotter than the Texas heat. The sweat above her lip and on her hairline could have been caused by the sun, but she chose to think it was
him.

Because it wasn’t just her skin that was on fire.

Watching him work made her insides burn with an intensity that was undeniable.

Casey had read that book. The one that had been featured on Oprah a few years back about visualization. The fact was, she had always been one to obsess over what she wanted. When she’d read the book, she’d realized that if she put enough focus and energy into something, her chances of getting it improved. It seemed to work with her professional life, there for a little while, but it had yet to work with her love life. Men were definitely the most fun to fantasize about, certainly more fun than jobs. And if she’d come to any conclusions about her life in the last few weeks, it was that she was going to start doing stuff for herself. So here she was, she was going to fantasize about a strange man, having him here, in her Mom’s house, just for her.

As she finished her beer, she continued watching the man down the street. Silhouetted against the sunset, a brilliant display of oranges and pinks, she could see his body shimmering in the heat of the dying day. He was packing up his things, and Casey decided it was probably time to go inside.

She stood in front of the AC window unit, feeling the frigid air hit her body, as she closed her eyes and thought about the vision of the man on the roof. He’d taken his shirt off, and tanned muscles stretched and flexed as he hammered, bent, and reached. A sheen of perspiration coated his skin, and Casey’s tongue snaked out to lick her lips.

She decided a little fantasizing wouldn’t be remiss. If she wanted him, she should put her thoughts and energies into getting him, shouldn’t she?

Casey imagined him, walking down his ladder, the tee-shirt he’d taken off tucked into his back pocket, tool belt slung low on his waist, carrying his sack of larger tools over one shoulder. He slings the tool sack into the bed of his truck, and looks over to her house, question in his eyes.

What color where his eyes? She hadn’t seen him that closely, so she should make up a color. That would make the fantasy more real.

His hair was brown, so his eyes probably were, too. A dark mocha color. Yeah.

His mocha colored eyes squint in question, as he thinks about what he should do. Nodding to himself in answer, he squares his shoulders, and looks down to unbuckle his tool belt. Strong, thick fingers works the clasp as he deftly releases the belt and tosses it into the back of the truck, before throwing in his tee shirt as well. Shirtless, he strides across the street with purpose and marches up Casey’s lawn.

When he gets there, he knocks

In her fantasy, Casey has just gotten out of the shower, where for some unknown reason, she has groomed herself carefully, so when she opens the door, she is clad in only a bath towel. As the stranger’s gaze falls on her, his mocha eyes burn with an intense heat that makes Casey’s insides quiver.

He doesn’t say a word, just takes a step inside the house, kicking the door shut behind him, and the need that has consumed him on the walk to her house takes over. He pulls the towel from her body, eliciting an excited gasp from her, before ravaging her mouth with his, while his hands roam over her contours: grasping, stroking, tweaking. Casey is a raging inferno, and this man is stoking her heat.

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