A hundred-dollar chip! What in the hell am I doing?
By now, it had to be five or six in the morning, but since there were no clocks in the casino, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was really starting to like White Russians because they went down smooth, and Julian was enjoying one of the several whiskeys he’d slammed down since he’d started to teach her how to play blackjack in the casino, when they’d returned from their marvelous ride in the sky.
Her fairy tale was almost over, but she was going to enjoy every last minute of her time with Julian.
“You have fourteen. Take a hit, Scarlet,” Julian drawled patiently.
“But what if he has something small under his face card? Why don’t we know what he has?” The game would be a hell of a lot easier to play if she knew the total of the dealer’s card.
There was a queen up for the dealer, and she was stuck with fourteen.
“The house likes to keep their advantage,” Julian answered with amusement. “Whatever he has showing, you assume that he has a ten underneath, with only a few exceptions. I told you that already.”
Julian had told her what the rules were and how to play consistently with the odds, but what if he was wrong? “He could have a five,” she retorted, wondering vaguely why she was making hundred-dollar bets at a blackjack table. Probably because that was the minimum. Julian had sought out a higher-limit table where there was nobody else playing, and they were still the two lone players at this particular game.
If the stone-faced older dealer had recognized Julian, he hadn’t mentioned it.
“There’s no guessing what to do at blackjack. Just take a hit. You know you have to.”
She’d argued when Julian had brought her to the table, insisting she play with him when she’d told him she’d just watch and learn. He’d had none of that, splitting the chips he’d bought between them and urging her up into the chair next to him.
Making the signal to take a card, she closed her eyes, feeling her heart pounding at the thought of losing a hundred bucks. Not that it was her money, but she didn’t want to lose Julian’s money, either.
If she weren’t more than a little drunk, she probably wouldn’t be playing at all. But her inhibitions were flying out the window with every creamy sip she took of her drinks.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart. It’s a seven,” Julian told her teasingly. “You’re damned lucky tonight. You need to stack those chips up and bet higher.”
Her stack was already much higher than it had been when she started. “I don’t want to lose a bet. It’s not my money,” she admonished him.
He leaned over as the dealer paid them both and the waitress brought more drinks. “I’ve got news for you, baby. You could lose every chip on this table and I wouldn’t give a damn.”
His baritone flowed over her senses, making her entire body tremble as the heat of his breath wafted over her sensitive earlobe. He wouldn’t care? She’d care, wouldn’t she? Or maybe she’d regret it later. Right now she was too high on Julian’s presence to be in her right mind.
Or was it those tasty little White Russians she was drinking?
“Do it. Go wild,” Julian demanded before he leaned back into his seat and tipped the waitress and the dealer.
Her head spinning with his insistent encouragement, she put a huge pile of chips into the circle, wanting to do whatever he wanted right now. He’d given her so much tonight that she’d let him have his way this time.
She tossed back the rest of her drink and reached for the one the waitress had just brought, taking a healthy swig of that one, too, while the dealer gave them their cards.
“Blackjack,” Julian informed her, because she had closed her eyes for the deal.
In front of her, there was the jack and the ace. A quick glance at the dealer’s eight told her she had won.
Julian held his hand up and Kristin gave him a high five as the dealer revealed his solid eighteen and they both won their hands.
“Ready to quit while you’re ahead?” Julian asked with a grin.
Squinting at the chips, she tried to count, but was unsuccessful. About all she could comprehend at the moment was that she’d started with one pile, and now she had several. “Yes.” She nodded so hard that her hair fell into her face.
Julian laughed so loud that he drew some attention, a few of the players at other tables looking over to see what was happening. “Trouble,” he grumbled as he quickly cashed out and got larger-denomination chips from the dealer so he didn’t have to carry stacks. As he scooped up the chips, he grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
“Julian! Julian Sinclair!”
The excited shouts came from another table, but he ignored them, tugging Kristin behind him as he strode quickly toward the elevator.
“They’re calling you,” Kristin mumbled as she trotted to keep up with him.
“I know. I’m not answering.”