Let It Ride. Jillian Burns

toward the Keno cards on his stool. “They’ll be starting another game soon.”

      He glanced back and scooped them from the stool. “I’ve never played Keno before. Maybe you could show me?”

      Wariness returned to her eyes, but she stepped closer, leaning in to point to his cards as she explained. He inhaled the scent of her fruity shampoo and closed his eyes. Damn. Heat raced up his spine.

      “You can pick up to ten numbers on each card. The computer randomly chooses numbers between one and eighty and you win based on how many you matched.” She began rattling off the odds of certain numbers being chosen like a calculus professor.

      “You really know your stuff.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “For a blonde? Anyone with half a brain can figure odds if they work here long enough.”

      So, she had a chip on her shoulder about being labeled a bimbo. He wanted to ask her how long she’d been a Keno girl. She couldn’t be much older than twenty-five. But he couldn’t open fire on her tonight. He’d do a little recon first.

      “Just because you’re a beautiful blonde doesn’t mean you can’t be a genius, too. Look at Jayne Mansfield or Sharon Stone. Both have IQ levels close to Einstein’s.”

      She stared at him, her face inscrutable. But something flickered briefly in her eyes and hit him right in the gut. As he stared back, the air between them vibrated as if he’d just started up the jets of his Raptor.

      But he didn’t want to come on too strong too soon, so he broke eye contact, severing the connection. “I’ll let you get on with your work.”

      She stepped away and fidgeted. “Enjoy the casino, Major.”

      Cole watched her leave, enthralled with the way her perfect little butt moved beneath the miniskirt. A shock wave of lust roared through his blood straight to his dick and he tightened his jaw. Yeah, he needed to get control.

      He’d made first contact. This time tomorrow, he’d have an intelligence report to aid him. Getting her into bed within a week? That was a challenge he was more than ripe for even without the added bonus of winning the bet.

      

      JORDAN TRUDGED into the female employees’ room, tossed her tray in a bin and kicked off her heels. She was bone-tired, and her feet were killing her. Praying Mom had had a good afternoon and evening, Jordan snatched her time card and punched out. How long before Mom got to be too much for Mrs. Simco to handle?

      “TGIF.” Sherri groaned as she rubbed her feet.

      “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” Jordan did, but at least she didn’t have classes in the morning, only her regular shift tomorrow night. She and Mom spent Saturday mornings at the Laundromat.

      “Umm-hmm, but somehow, saying ‘Thank God it’s Monday’ just doesn’t have the same kick.” Sherri grinned and peeled off her costume.

      “True.” Jordan smiled.

      “Besides, Friday means the kid is with his dad and Toby is picking me up. You want a ride, hon?” Sherri’s son was ten, but was already acting the rebellious teen. Toby was a bartender at the Luxor hotel and casino and got off work at the same time as Sherri.

      “And where would I sit in his Miata? Besides, my apartment is totally out of your way.”

      “I saw you talking to that tall, dark and dangerous guy with Captain McCabe…”

      Oh, no. Here it comes. The you-need-to-get-laid speech.

      “Which one? They all start looking alike after so many years.”

      But she was lying. There’d been something about the scarred major that had lingered in her mind as she’d wandered the casino selling her cards. Something compelling that had nothing to do with his thick brown hair, or the subtle defensiveness in his bearing. It wasn’t even the scars running down the side of his neck and right hand. It was something in his eyes.

      “You’re kidding, right?” Sherri threw her an incredulous look. “Dark hair, bomber jacket, fresh scars down the right side of his neck? Don’t you want to see if he’s got scars anywhere else?”

      “He’s just like all the rest, Sherri.” No different than a thousand other hotshot flyboys roaming around The Grand.

      Except…he’d made that comment about intelligence and beauty. And he’d made her laugh. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed out loud. And, most of all, he’d ended the encounter without propositioning her.

      Stop with the fairy tale, Jordan. That’s what had gotten her into the mess her life had become in the first place.

      Sherri scowled. “Are you still pining over Mr. Banker-dude?”

      “After I caught him with that showgirl? No way!”

      “So, forget about waiting for a commitment right now. Just have a wild fling. You don’t have to be in a relationship to get you some, girl. You need a man.”

      Irritation overtook Jordan. Her friend had it wrong. She didn’t need anyone. She’d never depend on a man again. She’d run off with bad-boy-Ian and been deserted. And she’d dated safe-guy-Bob and been cheated on. It may have taken only two failed relationships, but she’d finally learned men weren’t reliable. She reined in her annoyance. Sherri was a good friend. She meant well. She’d helped Jordan a lot when she’d first started working here six years ago, teaching her how to earn bigger tips by smiling and flirting, and helping her evade the advances of the worst drunks.

      “I know you’re thinking of my best interests, Sherri, but all I need is to ace my finals next week. And getting involved with some flyboy from Nellis will not help me memorize differential equations.”

      “Oh, I don’t know. I always did better on a test if I had a good screw the night before. Helped me relax.”

      “Sherri!” Jordan managed not to roll her eyes.

      “All I’m sayin’ is, that was one fine piece of man-meat staring at you tonight like you rocked his world. Just think about it if you see him again.”

      Think about it? Hadn’t she just been convincing herself not to think about him?

      After she changed clothes she left through the hotel’s employees’ entrance, heading for the bus stop past the parking garage behind the hotel. Even at two in the morning, Vegas vibrated with noisy traffic and tourists. But she’d long grown tired of the bright flashing lights she’d once found so exciting.

      She glanced down the street toward the bus stop and spotted the bus already there. Jordan dodged a few cabs and a limo as she sprinted across the street. “Wait!” She waved her arm just as the bus pulled away in a wheezing cloud of exhaust.

      “Crap!” It’d be twenty minutes before the next bus came by. She stuck her fists inside her denim jacket pockets and shifted her weight from sneaker to sneaker. Her body screamed for a hot bath and a soft bed, so she closed her eyes and envisioned the day she earned her programming degree. Once she did, her life would change.

      She’d get a respectable job with a decent salary. Buy a home of her own with two bedrooms so she wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch. Have professional care for her mom. All she had to do was stay smart, stay focused.

      Not let some Casanova derail her plans. Again.

      But every once in a while her heart just wanted to let loose all the wild feelings inside. Toss the laundry basket and run screaming into the night.

      “Hey.” A strong hand gripped her arm and Jordan jumped. “Got a dollar?”

      She let out a relieved breath as she recognized one of the bums that slept in the alley behind the hotel. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. But booze wasn’t the worst odor. Poor old guy. But for the grace of God…

      A motorcycle engine revved and tires screeched. “Let