I watched as the dealer pushed a pile of chips over in my direction. “Congratulations,” he said. “Must be beginner’s luck.”
My mouth dropped open. “That’s … six hundred dollars,” I whispered. I’d never won any money in my entire life. Every penny in my bank account was hard-earned.
“I hope you’ll stay,” said the cowboy, pulling six chips out from in front of me to put on the table. He put three in front of my spot and three in front of his.
“I don’t have any money,” I said. I’d left all my cash with Candice and it sure wasn’t six hundred bucks.
He looked at the pile in front of me. “Sure looks like you do.”
I smiled, my jaw a little off kilter as it dropped open. If this was his flirting game, I had to give him credit. It was original, even though it did feel a tiny bit like solicitation of prostitution. “That’s your money, not mine.”
He shrugged. “It’s play money. Win or lose, the goal is to have a good time.”
“Oh, I can have a good time in Vegas, trust me. And it doesn’t even take a lot of money either.” The cocktail waitress walked up with a tray and two drinks.
“Where’s your friend?” she asked, looking at the faces around the table.
“He left. But I’ll take his drink,” I said, moving back so she could put them on the table in front of me.
“I’ll take a Bud on your next trip by,” said Mack.
She gave him a sexy smile and cocked her hip out at him. It irritated me more than I wanted to admit. “Coming right up. Can I get you anything else to go with that Bud?”
He looked right at me. “I have everything I need right here, thanks.”
My throat closed up at the innuendo I prayed was coming out of his mouth. But he couldn’t possibly be talking about me. The only thing he knew about me was that I was a klutzy chick who liked to spend his money. Not the best makings of a girlfriend candidate.
I wanted to slap my own face with the direction my mind was going. Girlfriend material? What the hell is wrong with you? You’re in Vegas for chrissake! Get control of yourself. Tonight is not the night for lifeplan action. But a one night stand? Maybe … I sat up straighter and looked at the table, lifting up my card at the corner.
He turned to face the table, but leaned a little closer to me than the stool would normally allow. “You okay?”
I looked at him, surprised to find his face so close again. I wasn’t complaining at all, though. He had a pretty damn fine face, after all. “No, I’m great. Why?”
He smiled a slow, lazy smile that lit me on fire. “You look a little nervous.”
I blew out a huff of air. “It’s because you’re too damn good looking.” The second the words left my mouth I heard them and cringed inwardly. “Did I just say that out loud?”
“I’m not sure. What was it you thought you said?” he asked. He was teasing me. I could hear the smile in his voice, but I couldn’t look at him. Then my humiliation would be complete.
I took a big breath for courage. “I am having a bit of a hard time acting like an intelligent human being with you sitting so close to me.” I was losing my breath, and there was nothing I could do about it short of asking for oxygen or leaving his presence, and I definitely wasn’t ready to do that yet. Talk about potential. This guy had the potential to be my Vegas fling. The wild and crazy sex Candice had talked about on the plane. The forget-Luke-and-move-on man. I looked at him really quick and then faced forward again. Could I have sex with this guy? A total stranger who I know nothing about? Who I’ll never see again? Whose name I don’t even know?
“My name’s Mack, by the way. What’s yours?”
Panic mode, level eight. What is he? A mind reader? Okay, scratch the not-knowing-his-name part. The question is, could I have a one-night stand with a man named Mack who wears a cowboy hat to a casino? He put his forearms on the table as he looked at his cards and waited for my answer. They showed lean muscles under tanned skin and golden highlighted arm hair sprinkling the surface enough to make me wonder what he had going on under his shirt. Yes. I can definitely do this.
I looked at him. He caught my eye and smiled at me, revealing just the slightest dimple in his left cheek … and it was all over for any self control I might have possessed before coming to Vegas. “My name is Andrea, but my friends call me Andie.”
“Andie it is, then.” He draped his arm across the back of my chair, standing so he could get closer to me. “What are you going to do, Andie? Hit or stay?” He wasn’t even looking at the cards. His piercing blue eyes were staring into mine, possibly daring me to take a challenge.