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“He wouldn’t have become what he is today if he didn’t,” she said realistically. “Just the same, I like your father. I’m glad he’s going to join us this weekend.”
“He likes you, too.” His glance traveled over the golden sheen of her hair, its loose waves framing a face that was classic in its beauty. “He usually doesn’t have much time for the opposite sex, but he’s really taken with you. Exactly how did you manage that? I could use some lessons.”
For all the jest in his tone, Laura suspected he was half serious. “My way probably wouldn’t work for you.” She laid down her silverware and reached for her wineglass, using those few seconds to think through the rest of her answer. “You and my brother Trey are in somewhat similar positions. Both of you are being groomed to take over the family business. I don’t have any of that pressure. The only expectations my family has for me are negative ones—you know, don’t get into trouble, don’t become involved with drugs—that sort of thing. It leaves me amazingly free.” She took a sip of her wine as if to punctuate the thought. “My brother, on the other hand, if he makes even one small mistake, everyone seems to come down harder on him than they would on anyone else. Not out of cruelty, but because of the role he’ll have to fill one day.” She tilted her glass toward him. “I suspect it’s the same for you with your father.”
“I suppose that’s true.” He was deliberately offhand even though he knew her summation was right on the nose. It was the first time he could recall anyone ever demonstrating an understanding of his situation. In one way, it touched something deep inside him. But in another, it made him uncomfortable.
“I remember my brother said to me one time, ‘You know, Sis,’ ” Laura switched to an imitation of a man’s voice, ‘the worst thing about it is you’ve got to take their guff and keep your mouth shut when you really want to knock their heads off.’ ”
“I’ve been there a time or two,”
Boone agreed wryly.
“I think that’s why Trey took up rodeoing in college. It’s his way of rebelling a little—and blowing off some steam at the same time.” She studied him over the rim of her wineglass, a knowing gleam in her dark eyes. “So what’s your form of release from the pressure? Fast cars or fast women? I’d bet it’s the latter, considering your reputation for playing the field.”
He was much more comfortable with this kind of conversation, and it showed. “You know what they say about safety in numbers.”
“Variety is the spice of life and all that,” she teased. “You sound like me—easily bored.”
It was not the response he had expected. In the past when he had made similar comments, the response had invariably included a subtle lecture on the benefits and joys of monogamous relationships.
Even now, a part of him was skeptical of her reply. At the same time, though, he had to acknowledge that it rang true. And it stung a little that she didn’t seem to be interested in “catching” him. Simultaneously Boone realized that Laura Calder would not be an easy conquest. He’d never had to work to get a woman before.
And it was that thought that prompted him to say, “Tonight, sitting here with you, I’m not all that interested in the variety that’s out there when you play the field.”
“Now that sounds like a line,” Laura chided lightly.
“With other women, it would be,” Boone admitted. “With you, I’m really not sure.”
“In that case, I’ll take it as a high compliment. Thank you,” she said with an accepting dip of her head, her eyes alive to him in a way they hadn’t been before. It was a look he was determined to keep there.
Following dinner Boone instructed the chauffeur to take them to one of London’s many gaming establishments. Laura eyed him curiously. “Don’t you have to be a member to go there?”
“I am,” he stated.
“Do you enjoy gaming?” she wondered.
“Don’t you?” he countered, flashing her a smile that was reckless and sexy.
The London casino had none of the Vegas clamor of slot-machine bells and clattering coins. Here the gambling was limited to table games—blackjack, poker, roulette, and craps. It was an atmosphere that would have been sedately British except for all the shouts and excited chatter that came from the crowded craps table.
Boone guided her toward it. “Have you ever played craps before?”
“Once or twice,” she said, but the twinkle in her eyes indicated a greater familiarity with the game than that.
“In that case, you’ll need a stake.” He pressed a stack of tokens into her palm.
“There’s really no need. I can afford to buy my own,” she reminded him.
“I know. But tonight’s my treat,” he said with a smile and shouldered his way to the table, urged on by half a dozen excited bettors.
The feverish contagion of the scene had quickened Laura’s pulse. The pace of the game was swift, almost nonstop. The only pauses came when the shooters shook the dice, sometimes muttering under their breath and sometimes calling for the needed point. Almost the instant the dice came to rest, the losing bets were raked in and the winners paid out amidst a mix of groans, the occasional curse, and a rare few triumphant outcries.
Through sheer good fortune, Laura managed to double her stack of chips, but Boone was on a hot streak, the stacks growing in front of him with each roll of the dice.
“You’re bringing me luck,” he said when the winnings from another bet were pushed his way.
“Of course.” Laura flashed him a smile of absolute certainty.
