Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Read online

“Because he’s dying to know.” He glanced at Mr. Handsome, his lips curling. “Just doing my duty, sir, being a good host and all.”

  Mr. Handsome’s lids slid to half-mast. “No problem, Carlos, you did me a favor. I was wondering myself.”

  Her chest tightened for the umpteenth time. She concentrated on her cards instead of looking his way, but it didn’t help. Damn, if she didn’t have the overwhelming urge to squirm in her chair. She resisted, trying to appear calm.

  “I don’t see a wedding ring on her finger,” Carlos noted, so everyone could hear.

  Her voice low, she warned, “Carlos, I don’t think matchmaker is in your job description. Deal the cards.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He darted a look at Mr. Handsome, who gave him a slow, shallow nod.

  She sat back in her chair, toying with her chips while Carlos reshuffled his eight decks. In the last year, she’d changed more than she had in her entire life. Not only had she reached a milestone birthday and left her thirties in the dust, but her life’s compass had stopped spinning. Her dials, for the most part, had finally set a true course. She lived her life by her standards and her timeline now.

  After cleaning up the mess of her short-lived marriage, she’d vowed never to get involved again. Being single can be lonely, married to an asshole—far worse.

  She peeked at Mr. Handsome from under her bangs. Just like her ex-husband she thought. Endowed with rugged good looks and an abundance of masculine presence, he obviously could have any woman he wanted. That was the last thing she needed, not that he should have looked twice at her, but he had been, all night.

  Their cocktail waitress thankfully went off duty, and a new one took over. Moira watched as Mr. Handsome stopped the girl and whispered something. She heard the girl say, “Yes, Mr. Porter.”

  They continued to play, and her chips grew to a healthy mound of a thousand dollars.

  “Lord, you have horseshoes up your butt tonight, little lady,” the guy two seats over said, loosening his tie. A light sheen of sweat lay on his brow. She hoped he wasn’t playing with his rent money.

  She gave him a friendly grin and shrugged as the dealer turned a four to go with the four, three, and ten she’d drawn. “It’s all about guts and luck, isn’t it?”

  “Must be hard sitting on that chair with those horseshoes hanging out your backside,” Carlos said, throwing the decks into the shuffler. “You’re going to get me in trouble.” He glanced at Mr. Handsome. “The house is supposed to win ya know.”

  “Eh?” Laughing, she swirled the last red drops of wine in her glass. “I think the owner of this place can afford to part with a thousand dollars,” she mused.

  “I think he can, too, and he wouldn’t mind losing it to you—since luck be a lady tonight.”

  Moira recognized the low, sensual tones belonging to Mr. Handsome. She peered at him as his head tilted, and a small, sexy smile crossed his lips. Her gaze dropped to the table, her smile dissolving. Hard assed with sharp corners maybe—lady, definitely not.

  The waitress set her drink down, and Moira gave her a healthy tip since she hadn’t had to ask for it. She took a sip and blinked. The velvety, red liquid lingered like silk on her tongue. The Merlot was smooth but bold, and different, she thought. Her brow lifted a little in surprise as her eyes strayed to Mr. Handsome. He slowly and oh so sensually caught her stare. The ballast in her stomach shifted abruptly. For a casino this large and noisy, it shrunk to an incredibly small size—just their table, and just his smile. What the hell was he looking at her like that for? No more wine for her. She’d never trust a man again, especially one who appeared so comfortable in his own skin.

  She kept expecting a woman to show up and throw her arms around Mr. Handsome. For a split second, she imagined being in those powerful arms and that perfect, rugged face turning to greet her. Wrong, wrong, definitely no more wine, she admonished herself.

  He had to be married or have a girlfriend who fell into the Miss America category. She couldn’t count the number of times during the evening when the seat next to him had been taken by a beautiful woman, and okay, maybe some slutty ones, too. She half considered whether there might be a lineup in the bathroom, and when one struck out, she’d tag the next one to try her luck.

  This must be her, Moira thought as a voluptuous blonde-haired woman, standing no less than five-ten, sat her sleek body down beside him.

  “Hi, handsome,” the blonde said. “Think you can share some luck with me tonight?”

  Mr. Handsome dropped his bet on the table next to his ace. He darted a quick look at Moira. She toyed with her thumbnail, trying to pretend it was more interesting.

  “I think all the luck is with the beautiful woman at the end of the table tonight.”

  The blonde’s smile tightened. “Well good for you, dear,” she said, gazing in Moira’s direction.

  The woman only played a few hands then left.

  Carlos pushed some cash down the slot in the table from a newcomer. “Strikeout number four hundred and fifty-two,” he said in a voice only loud enough for her to hear.

  She burst out laughing, knowing exactly what he meant. Carlos craned his head at her and grinned. Mr. Handsome looked up at them, and she immediately put her attention on the chip she toyed with.

  Obviously, other women sensed what she had—an aura of strength, assuredness, and power. A man like him brought out a woman’s carnal side. He radiated a primal temptation that called silently to the opposite sex. She knew the type. A woman couldn’t help it when her primordial DNA crawled out of the sludge of her heart to say, “Good specimen, go for it.” But she knew, and every cognitive fiber told her sludge to “get real.” She observed him with a scientific eye. Unfortunately, science gave way to sludge, and she had to admit if he stood on a marble pedestal, he’d pass for a Greek god.

  Eventually, each woman got the picture and left, but it didn’t take long for another one to saunter in and take her position. Like sharks, they swirled around this poor man. He had to be used to it, being an alpha male. They especially knew their luring abilities. It was what made them so damn cocky.

  She worked with nothing but, and they had a way of pissing her off immediately. The hair would rise on the back of her neck, and her hackles went up every time a dominant male tried to treat her like she had no brains or skill. She’d earned her title as one of the best in her field. She’d be damned if some new officer with a set of gold rings on his cuffs tried to flaunt his “I’ll be telling God what to do next, but you’ll do for now” attitude.

  Mr. Handsome most likely fell in with the rest of his ilk. He wanted a woman between the sheets first, and if he wanted to keep her, he’d expect her to change. She’d learned that the hard way, and she’d never fall into the trap again.

  The position next to her changed watch. Her uncanny knack of sensing trouble perked up, and something told her it had just sat down beside her. An overpowering waft of aftershave struck her nose as the newcomer swayed in his seat. If the aftershave wasn’t bad enough, the smell of rye on his breath made her eyes water. Carlos dropped a second ace in front of her. She considered her options, then threw down her extra bet and split her cards. She knew it was better to ignore whoever had sat down next to her. He smelled like trouble.

  * * * *

  Steven Porter sat comfortably as his chips dwindled, paying more attention to the sweet woman who, thanks to Carlos, he knew was named Moira. When Carlos made fun of her, she took it in stride and laughed harder than anyone. He enjoyed the look on her face when he had the waitress bring her the best Merlot in the casino. Entranced, he watched as she brought the glass to her lips. Only a woman who knew what she liked would recognize the wine he’d ordered, and she had. He scanned the tables around him. Strawberry daiquiris, margaritas and sickly sweet drinks sat by the hands of all the twenty-somethings. Moira wasn’t twenty, but she certainly was beautiful.

  He glanced at the guy who’d taken over the chair beside her. A big kid with dark fea
tures and a gold chain dangling down his exposed chest swayed in his seat. He looked like the college football type—big, but not so brilliant. He watched as the young man turned his head to look at Moira, interest radiating on the guy’s face. Too busy watching the activity around her, she didn’t look at him.

  “Keee-ute,” he heard the guy say to her, but she didn’t acknowledge him. Steven grinned because Moira didn’t think he was talking about her.

  “Hey, beautiful,” the young stud said. She turned her head toward him and just as quickly looked away, obviously thinking he was talking to someone else. “You, beautiful, I’m talking to you.”

  Steven watched as he felt the first flicker of irritation inside him. Obviously, the overgrown kid had too much to drink already. He looked at Carlos, who watched the newcomer as well, then rolled his eyes.

  “Sweetheart, I have to buy you a drink,” he slurred.

  Her brows rose beneath her bangs. “No, thanks. I’ve got one already. I’m good.”

  “Ah, come on, baby, you’re just too sweet. Hey,” he said, lowering his voice, “I like older women.”

  “Older huh?” she replied.

  Steven stopped the grin before it rolled onto his lips. She probably wanted to cuff the rotten kid for that remark.

  “Sir, would you like to buy in?” Carlos asked, drawing the young man’s attention away from her.

  “I’ll take three hundred, dude.”

  Steven read her expression, and it said, “How fast can you lose three hundred bucks at a twenty-dollar table?” If the guy didn’t lay off and settle down, he’d do something about it. He didn’t want her to leave.

  “Hey, babe,” the drunk called to the waitress. “Get me a rye and whatever this gorgeous woman is drinking. Maybe she’ll let me get into her pants if I loosen her up.” He laughed at his own crude joke as he swung his head to look at Moira.

  The waitress wrote it down and turned away with a “better her than me” look on her face.

  The kid leaned his body into Moira. “Ya can’t ignore me all night, babe. I’m sitting right beside ya.” He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair. “I think you and I should go back to my room. You older ones always appreciate a good ride on a hot rod. What da-ya say?”

  Two things were about to happen: If the kid didn’t take his hand off her, Steven would make sure he’d never be able to use it again, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him talk to her that way. Giving Carlos a look, he pushed himself up from the table.

  Carlos’s gaze followed him. “He looks pissed off, and that’s one man who you don’t want angry. If the kid gets out of this alive he can consider himself lucky,” he said to the man sitting in the middle position.

  The man turned to look at him as he passed behind. “He’s a helluva big guy,” he muttered to Carlos.

  “Kid doesn’t stand a chance,” Carlos said, shoving a new deck into the shuffler.

  Moira jerked her head away from the drunk’s sticky, plump fingers and glared at him. Her eyes narrowed as a dark storm brewed in them. “Listen, Boy Wonder, I’m old enough to be your mother, so pipe down and play cards.”

  “Ah, I get it,” the stud said, rolling his head. “You’re one of those frigid bitch—” Steven’s hand came down hard on the kid’s shoulder. “Hey, man.” The young man twisted then stopped when he saw the look on his face.

  “Are you bothering my girl?” Steven growled from his six-foot-four advantage. He knew he was a wall of a man. He hoped the kid’s vision was still good enough to see it, too. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, friend. Play nice or leave.” His gaze swung to Moira. “Why don’t you take my seat.” Up close he realized how amazingly beautiful her eyes truly were, even though they were round with surprise.

  The kid swiveled his head to look at her.

  “Thanks.” She recovered quickly, giving the drunk a shrewd look. “He doesn’t like it when someone calls me a bitch,” she said, playing along.

  She slid off her seat, her hand gently brushing his shoulder as if she knew him. He forgot about the kid for a second, his anger receding under her warm gaze.

  “What the fuck, man,” the guy growled, his stance stiffening.

  He put himself between Moira and the drunk. If the kid wanted to take a swing, he’d take the hit. “Maybe, you should go play somewhere else, pause for the cause, ya know,” he suggested as he took a step back, giving the young man a chance. The guy swayed a little, looking at him, sizing him up. Worse yet, he was probably seeing three of him. Steven jerked his head, indicating it wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.

  “Yeah, guess so,” he slurred. “Sorry, man—really, your wife’s beautiful.” He patted him drunkenly on the arm and stumbled away.

  When Steven turned, Moira stood behind him, laughing.

  “That poor kid must really have blurred vision.” She raised her hand in the air for a high five. “And thank you,” she said, smiling, her green eyes sparkling with amusement.

  He reached for her hand, but instead of slapping it, he curled his fingers around hers. He wasn’t laughing either. There was nothing wrong with the kid’s eyesight. All night he’d watched her. He couldn’t help himself. Her face was exceptionally sweet, and her kind eyes said so much more than she did. He had sensed something different about her as soon as she sat down. An aura surrounded her. He just didn’t know what to call it. When she smiled, it always reached her beautiful eyes.

  From his vantage point, towering over her, he appreciated her perfect hourglass figure. Her breasts only showed demurely from the form-fitting little black dress she wore. A silver dolphin necklace sitting enticingly between her rounded curves told him she was everything he wasn’t used to. Nothing about her said brash or overstated. She was genuine and incredibly adorable. But he didn’t miss the fact that the look in her eyes became nervous with his touch.

  He let her hand slide from his grasp until only the tips of their fingers touched, and then the warmth vanished. Sitting back in his seat, he could still feel the tingle. Those bedroom eyes peeking through her bangs made his heart stop when she looked at him. He couldn’t believe the absolute wild desire that swarmed inside him at the sound of her sensual voice. Who was this woman?

  “Carlos, can I leave my chips here? I really need to find the ladies’ room,” Moira asked.

  Carlos looked over at her. “It’s pretty busy. We’re not supposed to—”

  “Save her seat,” he ordered, settling down in his chair.

  “Yes, Mr. Porter.” She blinked at the quick exchange. “I’ll take care of your chips, Moira,” Carlos said.

  “Thank you.”

  He played absentmindedly with his short stack, her voice lingered in his mind like an echo. Something poked hard at his memory. Different, she’s different.

  * * * *

  Time ticked by, and eventually another dealer took over. He wasn’t nearly as entertaining, and the table emptied out quickly. The pile of chips in front of her boasted her luck. She wasn’t going anywhere, even if the dealer was as dry as a papier-mâché doll.

  “Mr. Porter, would you like another card?”

  She looked up, surprised that this dealer knew Mr. Handsome’s name as well.

  “Maybe I’ll take a break,” he said.

  She couldn’t help but take note of his voice. Strong but calm, it rumbled like thunder over distant mountains. Its sexy timbre set her nerves singing. She’d heard sexy on the VHF radio many times before. His—was the best she’d ever heard. The sound whirled in her ears for only a second and dropped straight between her thighs. What a ridiculous thought, but her legs flinched anyway. She gave him a friendly nod and smiled good-bye, turning her attention back to the movement of the casino.

  He didn’t leave. Instead, he took a step toward her. “Moira, maybe you’d like one, too?” he asked.

  Chapter Two

  She swiveled in her chair not really believing that a man like him would ask her anything other than if she knew wha
t time it might be. He’d been kind to her earlier by sending the kid packing. She thought he was simply one of those rare gentlemen doing his civic duty. For a brief moment she peered at him, and then around the casino. Would she? Should she? This man seemed to make butterflies the size of eagles swoop in her belly.

  “I…” She shook her head, her gaze straying back to his. He reached his hand out in a courteous gesture to guide her off her chair. He didn’t look like he wanted to take no for an answer.

  “I promise I have better manners than Boy Wonder,” he said quietly in response to her hesitation.

  She smiled at his reference to her earlier remark. “I suppose I could use a walk.” She placed her hand in his. The moment his skin touched hers, she felt the same electric shock as before. Her stomach coiled, and her heart squeezed tight. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “My name’s Steven Porter,” he said, looking at her with a warm smile in his brilliant blues.

  “Moira.”

  Up close, the small lines around his eyes became visible. He had to be in his forties. No matter what age, perfect symmetry made beautiful people, and his strong jaw and high cheekbones were attractive from every angle. Northern European descent maybe, she thought.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Moira.” He gently pulled her arm to wrap around his, reminding her of the golden oldies when a man actually escorted a lady. “Why don’t we take a walk along the strip? There’s a place I think you’ll like down the street, and we can stretch our legs.”

  She nodded, but didn’t trust herself to say anything. His incredible strength rippled from his body, setting hers on high alert. There wasn’t anything on him that looked soft. She’d give her next three paychecks away if he didn’t have a six-pack under that expensive dress shirt. He tenderly placed his hand across her back, the warmth of his skin seeping through her dress as he led her toward the Grand Palms lobby.

  “You’re not American, are you?”

  She leaned away from him in surprise. “How would you know that?” she asked, smiling. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t good at being elusive. A poker player she was not.