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The Keno girl’s gaze shot back to Cole. “You’re a fighter pilot too? A friend of Captain McCabe’s?” There was a distinct edge to her voice. What the hell had McCabe done? Or did she have a grudge against all military personnel? Had some airman done her wrong?
He shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to be.”
Her smile dropped and she raised a brow. “Don’t lose a friend on my account.” She turned to leave, but Cole sidestepped to block her retreat.
“Major Cole Jackson, 81st Airborne. And you are?”
She stared over his shoulder a moment, her lips a tight line. Bringing that gorgeous gaze up to meet his, she put her free hand on her hip. “Jordan Brenner. Mother of five. Looking for a man who can support me and all my kids.” Her expression said, Now will you leave me alone?
If she had five kids he’d stand on this slot machine and quack like a duck. “Five, huh? What are their names?”
Without missing a beat, she rattled off, “Anna, Billy, Charlie, David and—” she faltered, glanced down at the commercial-grade carpet, then back up at Cole “—Fred!” She smiled triumphantly.
Cole chuckled, unable to keep from returning her mischievous grin. Smiling pulled the scarred flesh on the right side of his face. “Not Eddie? Or Ethan? Or Eugene?”
A hum bubbled up from inside her, and a sweet laugh erupted, but was stifled just as quickly. Something inside Cole stilled. Why would she stop such a wonderful sound?
“All right. You caught me. I couldn’t think of an E name.” She shifted her tray of Keno cards to her other hip and her smile faded.
So did his.
“Aren’t you going to fill those out?” She nodded 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 go of the lady,” a deep voice ordered from behind her.
The old man yanked his hand away and backed off.
Jordan spun around.
The Air Force major. He sat astride a monstrous black motorcycle, his gaze focused menacingly on the old man. His tight, low-riding jeans and black leather jacket personified danger as he curled his fists around the handlebars.
Her body sizzled as she stared at him. The image burned into her psyche, drawing her into the fantasy of the rugged loner coming to her rescue, sweeping her into his arms and—
“I’m fine, Major,” she blurted out to stop her crazy dream. She unzipped her backpack and dug around for one of the prepaid cards she’d bought. One of the diners close to her apartment had a program for the homeless. A way to ensure a handout didn’t go to buy booze. “This will get you a hot meal and coffee at Zelda’s Café on fifty-fourth.” She handed the old man the card, and he snatched it from her and took off.
From the corner of her eye she saw the major get off the bike and move toward her.
“You shouldn’t encourage those people.”
She turned. “He’s harmless.”
He rubbed his jaw and took a step toward her.
Her chest tightened as he came closer. Her insides coiled with a tension she’d been trying to deny since his comment about blond geniuses. She knew it was just a pickup line, and she’d heard better. But he’d said it as if he really believed it.
“That happen often?”
She shook her head. “No. At least, not in a while.”
His dark eyes searched her body, his gaze moving down from her breasts to her legs and up again.
Her stomach clenched with a sharp ache. It’d been too long since she’d had sex, that’s all. Why had she waited? Oh, yeah. The whole trying-not-to-make-the-same-mistake-twice thing. She’d told Bob she wanted to wait until they were really committed, and he’d agreed. Too easily, she could see now. And it’d been easy for her, too. Easy and safe.
She’d never felt the kind of ache for Banker Bob that she did tonight for the Air Force major.
“He’ll probably trade the card for booze or dope,” he said.
Straightening her shoulders, she bristled. “Well, I have to try.” His subtle musky cologne drifted to her on the breeze and she drew in a long, slow breath.
He looked down the street, then back at her. “I could give you a ride.”
She studied his black bike. Almost a quarter of a century old and she’d never ridden on a motorcycle. An image invaded her mind of riding behind him, her cheek pressed against his back and her palms clutching his hard abs. The vise in her chest squeezed with a dangerous desire.
“Hey, I understand.” The major headed for his bike and swung his leg over the seat. He looked at her as he rolled the bike forward and the kickstand lifted. “You don’t know me.” His jaw muscle clenched as he turned the key and started the engine. The bike roared to life and he set his boot on the steel footrest and looked up at her. “Yet.” Without another word he curled his fists and took off out of the parking lot.
A panicky sense of lost opportunity swept over her. Something inside her wanted to run after him and yell at him to come back, that she’d changed her mind. It was her gnawing inner voice begging for a night of reckless abandon. How could she feel so out of control? How could she even consider it?
Then the bike made a U-turn down the street and roared back into the nightclub parking lot behind her. The engine shut off, and he shoved the kickstand down and strode toward her. She watched the sway of his hips, the tight fit of his T-shirt beneath the jacket, the set of his jaw.
“Decided I’d wait with you until the bus comes.”
Jordan tried to swallow past the hard lump in her throat. Even security-conscious Banker Bob had never been willing to lose sleep to make sure she got home okay. “Thank you.”
He nodded, but didn’t speak, just stood next to her with his arms crossed over his chest.
His leather-mixed-with-man scent tantalized her. The coil in her tightened more, her muscles tensed and she couldn’t even look at him.
You’re an idiot, Jordan Brenner. So, he was sexy. So were a thousand other players trolling the casino looking to get laid. He just had a different approach. She should remember this guy was a friend of Captain McCabe’s, the most prolific serial dater in Nevada. And, she wasn’t a naive eighteen-year-old anymore, a girl who ran off with the first guy to charm her jeans off. She had responsibilities. She didn’t get swept off her feet.
When the bus pulled up, she climbed aboard without a backward glance.
2
“JORDAN ELIZABETH, this underwear is indecent!” Tammy Brenner hissed as she held up a pair of thong panties.
Snatching them from her mom’s fingers, Jordan sighed. “They’re for work, Mom. So they don’t show under the uniform, remember?”
“I don’t like you working in that place,” Tammy said. “Showing off everything God gave you.”
At least today Mom remembered where Jordan worked. “It won’t be for much longer. Soon, I’ll have my degree.” She stuffed the rest of their underwear and bras into a clean trash bag and carried the empty laundry basket over to the buzzing dryer. “Then I’ll start applying for a better job.” Her stomach clenched at the thought. A part of her was so ready to get away from casino work. Another was scared to death. What if she failed her finals? Or what if all the corporate honchos took one look at her and decided she wasn’t qualified? She needed to buy an ultra-conservative business suit. And maybe darken her hair…
The boom of jet engines scraped across the sky as the Thunderbirds’ buzzed over the city, practicing maneuvers. Car alarms went off outside the Laundromat and her mother started screaming.
“What is that? What’s happening?” Tammy’s voice escalated and started to quiver.
Jordan rushed over and put her arm around her mom. “It’s only the jets from the air base, Mom, remember?”
“I want to go home. My regulars at the diner will miss me.”
Oh, no. She’d been doing so well this morning.
“But I need you here with me. We make a great team, don’t we?”
When her mom didn’t answer, Jordan gave up and stuffed the last of the towels from the dryer into the basket. She knew from experience she better get her mom home as soon as possible. Sticking the basket under her arm, she snatched up the trash sack of clean clothes, and led her mom by the arm out of the Laundromat.
“No. I want to go back to my house. I hate this place!” Tammy jerked out of her hold and stopped on the already scorching sidewalk, glaring at Jordan as if the illness was all her fault.
And maybe it was. If she hadn’t quarreled with her mom and run off to Vegas with Ian, maybe her mom wouldn’t have had the breakdown and been fired. No. The two incidents were years apart. Not related. She refused to start another self-destructive spiral of blame. Mom had Alzheimer’s. A medical condition that had nothing to do with a teenage daughter’s stupid mistake.
“Let’s go home, Mom. We can watch Sleepless in Seattle again before I go to work, okay? Would you like that?” She tried to lead her mom gently toward the bus stop, speaking soothingly about visiting Mrs. Simco and seeing her new fish. Mom loved watching Mrs. S’s aquarium. But when the bus pulled up, and she tried to get her mother to climb the steep metal steps, Tammy wouldn’t budge.
