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In true Mary-Grace fashion, she died at home in her bed, exactly how she wanted to. She was eaten up with ovarian cancer, and doctors gave her only weeks to live. The Senator was grief stricken, and the whole state sent an outpouring of love to the two of them.

I sat by her side nearly every hour until she passed, holding her hand and telling her I loved her. She would just smile at me and give me more of her words of wisdom.

“I’ve made sure you’re taken care of. There’s a trust set up, and Walker will make sure you have everything you need. I took care of everything for you, Georgia, just like your daddy would have wanted. I did all this for you.”

Squeezing her hand, I nodded in understanding. She’d lived her life so that I would never do without and never wonder who was going to take care of me. She may have gone about it the wrong way, but I knew she died having done all she could to help me.

Little did Mary-Grace know that six months after she died, good old Walker Keaton would have his team of lawyers revoke the trust and kick me out on the street with just the clothes on my back.

It’s a hard life lesson, but one we must learn. Never trust a southern senator.

I learned how to play poker when I was ten. Husband number two had a small gambling problem, so he thought keeping his card addiction at home helped him control it. After poker, he taught me how to play everything. Blackjack was his go-to, and we would play all the time. After a while I realized that I was better than him. He wasn’t letting me win, I was actually beating him.

One day he was sitting with his elbows on the table and watching me like a hawk. Suddenly, he flung his hand on the table and said, “I can’t beat a cheater.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. I was just playing my hand like I normally did. I remember being so angry that he accused me of something like that. I felt like I was finally good at something, and there he was, trying to take it away from me.

“I’m not cheating!”

“You’re counting cards, Georgia.”

“I’m what?” I looked down at my hand, thinking that I was holding two aces, and I knew one was about to land on the flop. How was that counting? That was just paying attention.

He got up from the table and left the room. We never played cards again, and his gambling problem only got worse. By the time it got really bad, we were already out the door and moving into the senator’s mansion. Mary-Grace was always ten steps ahead.

It wasn’t until I started playing with the security at the senator's mansion that they told me what I was doing. I guess I won too many times, and they started to see a pattern. They were nicer about it, though, telling me it wasn’t necessarily illegal, but it would get your ass kicked out of every casino in Vegas.

Here I was with a natural ability to do something people would give anything for. Being good at something like that appealed to me. It was sneaky, and I liked the idea of thinking I could get away with it. And maybe if I was good enough, I could get away with it in Vegas.

Those were all just silly thoughts I had when we lived with the senator. It wasn’t until my mama got sick and passed away did I start to think that idea had some legs. I could set things in motion after she died, and it only took six months for me to be out of a home, and making my way to Vegas.

I remember the bus ride and feeling sorry for myself. But then I closed my eyes and heard Mary-Grace’s voice in my head. “Never let them see your mascara run.”

When I got to Vegas, the first thing I did was hit a casino. It was either walk out a winner, or walk out the same way I walked in. I didn’t have anything to lose, and that’s what makes the most dangerous criminals.

I turned twenty dollars into twelve thousand that night and was offered a room at the casino. I knew enough to know that I’d raised some flags, so I stopped and took my winnings up to my room. I had enough to last me a while, and at that moment I just needed a little peace.

When I went to bed that night, I cried until I couldn’t shed another tear. I never let anyone see.

“Missus…?”

“Oh, honey, I’m far too young to be called a missus. You can call me Peaches.”

The older man across the table from me blushes, and I give him a wink. He seems harmless, but I’m not taking any chances. I stick to my rules. Be polite, be charming, be their fantasy, but don’t let them touch you.

I sit back in my chair, waiting for the dealer, and it’s then I feel it. His eyes are on me.

I know before I turn around, those Sinatra-like baby blues are going to be waiting on me. And yet I can’t stop myself from doing it.

When I lock eyes with his, everything inside me is set on fire. On the outside, I’m calm and cool. But on the inside, there’s a raging inferno that wrecks my body with need.

My eyes roam down his suit and back up to his eyes again. He looks like George Clooney standing there with his salt and pepper hair, hands in his pockets, and that half smile of his. He’s old enough to be my father, but nothing about him strikes me as paternal.

Biting my lips is the only way to keep the moan from leaving my lips. This is bad. This is very, very bad.





3





Don





The dealer says something to her, drawing her eyes away from mine and back to him. I clench my jaw at the loss, at the thought of someone else pulling her attention away from me. When she looked at me, I didn’t see surprise in her eyes. I thought I’d always been good at fading into the background and not getting too close to her. But the look in her eyes felt like she’d seen me before. Maybe she actually had seen me that day she walked right past me without giving me a second look.

Or maybe she’s done her research on the hotel she’s staying in. Probably the latter.

I don’t wait to see if she turns to look at me again. I don’t want to see her give me one of those fake smiles she so easily gives out. It’s strange not having someone’s undivided attention. I’ve been in Vegas my whole life, worked my way to the top. Everyone who is anybody here knows who I am. There isn’t anyone in this city with a little power who doesn’t owe me a favor for one reason or another.

Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to her. She’s not someone who would give in so easily. I’ll have to chase her. She’ll make me work to have her. I know it’s going to be a fight, and I’m going to enjoy every bit of it. It’s been years since I’ve had to fight for anything, really work for something. Now everything just seems to drop into my lap.

Placing my hands on the back of the vacant chair behind her, I watch as the dealer’s eyes go big before he stumbles over my name. I don’t play on the casino floor like I used to. I’d spend hours on the casino floor when I was younger, wanting my hands in everything, but I’ve learned to delegate now. It also doesn’t hold the same appeal anymore. It all started to taste the same. The excitement was gone. Empty. I had no one to share it with.

“Look at you. Making the poor man stumble right over his words. Normally that’s the effect I have on men.” Her southern twang rolls over me. I’ve heard it before, but being this close to her while hearing it is more intoxicating than I thought it would be. I wonder what it would sound like filled with desire. The things I could get her to moan and say for me…

I look down at her, forgetting about the dealer’s greeting. She does that to me a lot. Makes me forget about everything and everyone. She has a half smirk on her face, revealing the slightest trace of a dimple in her creamy porcelain skin. I have the urge to reach out and run my finger across it to see if she’s as soft as she looks. But I have the feeling she doesn’t like to be touched unless she invites it, and if there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she’d be the first to let me know if she wanted me to touch her.

“Cat got your tongue?” she says, raising one of her perfect eyebrows and reminding me I’ve yet to say a word. I’m lost in my thoughts of her once again. Her smile grows even bigger, and I can see she likes that she thinks she’s got the best of me. Maybe she has, but I don’t care.

“Doesn’t seem to be the only thing that’s gotten me.” She has this wholesome look to her in her sundress with a little jacket on. One might think my blunt comment would make her blush, but I know it won’t.

“You like what you see?” She turns in her chair and looks up at me, never breaking eye contact.

“Like isn’t the word I’d use to describe what I see.” I lean in just a little, still not making a move to touch her but wanting to be closer to her. I have a strong need to know what she smells like. I’d bet my casinos it would be sweet.

“Hmm.” She runs her eyes up and down my body. “You’re not so bad yourself. If you’re into the whole daddy thing.”

A bark of laughter shoots from me, making her smile even larger. Her perfect white teeth are on full display, and her dimple deepens. Most women try to be all sweet and sexy; she went straight for my balls. Hitting the nail on the fucking head. I’m old enough to be her father. It was the reason I’d tried to stay away from her from the beginning. I didn’t have a daddy kink, but she could call me anything she fucking wanted if it made her mine.