Working on a Full House

By Alyssa Kress

Can 'one night only' become 'until death do us part?'

Sensible pediatrician Valerie Kendrick would never dream of marrying a rootless gambler she meets at a bar in Las Vegas. But spending one night in the arms of this fascinating stranger is a fantasy too tempting to resist. For one night, she can pretend to be a femme fatale.

Professional gambler Roy Beaujovais has made millions of dollars, but never enough to feel complete. He'd hoped the woman with whom he spends one magical night might be the answer, but she deserts him in the morning.

Only after Valerie returns, and reluctantly admits she's pregnant, does Roy know what will finally fill the lonely hole in his life: becoming a father. He'll have to play his best hand ever, though, to get the skittish Valerie to include him in the game.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alyssa Kress
• Release date: Dec 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301000678

Alyssa Kress

Alyssa Kress completed her first novel at the age of six, an unlikely romance between a lion and the jackal who wants to steal his meal. Despite earning two degrees from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and spending nearly a decade in the construction industry, she's yet to see her feet stay firmly on the ground. She now lives in Southern California, three miles from where she first committed pen to paper, together with her husband and two children.

Book preview

Can 'one night only' become 'until death do us part?'

Sensible pediatrician Valerie Kendrick would never dream of marrying a rootless gambler she meets at a bar in Las Vegas. But spending one night in the arms of this fascinating stranger is a fantasy too tempting to resist. For one night, she can pretend to be a femme fatale.

Professional gambler Roy Beaujovais has made millions of dollars, but never enough to feel complete. He'd hoped the woman with whom he spends one magical night might be the answer, but she deserts him in the morning.

Only after Valerie returns, and reluctantly admits she's pregnant, does Roy know what will finally fill the lonely hole in his life: becoming a father. He'll have to play his best hand ever, though, to get the skittish Valerie to include him in the game.

WORKING ON A FULL HOUSE

by Alyssa Kress

Published by 4 Dolphins Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Alyssa Kress

Cover Design Copyright 2012

by http://DigitalDonna.com

Discover these and other titles by Alyssa Kress at her Smashwords Profile or at her webpage, http://www.alyssakress.com

Marriage by Mistake

The Heart Heist

The Indiscreet Ladies of Green Ivy Way

Asking For It

Love and the Millionairess

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, then please visit http://www.alyssakress.com to find licensed retailers from whom you can purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious, even those referring to actual or well-known entities. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank everyone who has given immense support and help in creating this and other stories: Julie Woolley, Kathy Bennett, Jenna Ives, Leigh Court, Cathy Yardley, Rose Murray, John Lovelady, and to Ruth Barges of blessed memory.

Special thanks to Dr. Jeremy Erdley for his knowledge of all things poker and pediatric. Any mistakes in these areas are my own. Also thanks to David, for entertaining me in Las Vegas on less than two dollars.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Epilogue

About the Author

Other Books by Alyssa Kress

Preview of Your Scheming Heart

CHAPTER ONE

Exactly how did a girl go wild?

Valerie Kendrick sat at a bar overlooking the poker tables at the elegant Mandalay Bay Hotel in Las Vegas, toying with the drink she'd thought she ought to order since she was supposed to be living it up this weekend. It wasn't happening, though. Despite her grand effort to distract herself from all the disappointments back home, she only felt lonelier than ever while wandering the glittering casinos.

Clearly, neither drinking nor gambling were going to make her feel any better. Instead, what she needed was — was —

She had no idea. How did a woman put her self esteem back together?

Swirling her Margarita glass on the bar counter, she gazed down at the poker players half a level below her. All of them, bar one, appeared desperate to get rid of their money. The one, a man with tousled dark hair and a square-cut face, appeared discreetly determined to acquire more of it. He wore a lazy smile and had an arm hooked over the back of his seat, but he couldn't hide his lurking competence.

A wolf in sheep's clothing.

Valerie played with her straw and kept watching. The soft gray cashmere sweater the guy wore only seemed to emphasize the roughness of the man underneath. He had an air of knowing a thing or two. A real card shark.

He was fascinating. Virile, excitingly dangerous, outrageously handsome. He was like a precious gemstone, out of her price range. Still, it was fun to watch him, to fantasize...

Heck, if a man this compelling ever showed interest in her, she could get over Peter for sure.

Laughing silently at herself, Valerie was still watching the man when her cell phone trilled down in the depths of the purse she'd set against her shin.

No. Valerie wasn't on call this weekend and the answering service wasn't supposed to forward messages. Neither should she feel the slightest obligation to take a call from a patient, even if it were just some sweet, innocent child in need —

I give up. Valerie was still new enough as a pediatrician to be a sucker, she supposed. Lifting her purse, she dug inside for her phone. Hello?

What are you doing, answering? demanded the voice on the other end. Your phone is supposed to be turned off. You're supposed to be too busy having a good time to answer.

Not a patient, after all. Cherise. Valerie smiled.

Don't talk to me, ordered Cherise, who seemed to do a lot of ordering, both in and out of her role as nurse practitioner at the clinic where they both worked. Close your phone and turn it off.

Unwilling to hang up now that she had her best friend on the line, Valerie lied unabashedly. But then how could I tell you my exciting news?

Cherise paused. You have news?

Valerie's mouth curved at the note of disbelief in Cherise's voice. For all her cheerleading for a new and livelier phase in Valerie's life, Cherise didn't believe it might actually happen.

Her friend's accurate lack of faith in her sparked a devil in Valerie. She found her gaze turning toward the lounging wolf in the cashmere cardigan, recklessness personified. I am right now looking at the man I'm going to spend the night with, she claimed.

There was a longer pause from Cherise. Really, she finally said.

Really, Valerie retorted, Cherise's humoring tone making the devil inside her jump up and down. Didn't you tell me I was supposed to go wild on this stag trip of mine to Vegas? Didn't you tell me I was supposed to make up for Peter announcing his engagement to that little — that is, to poor little Cindy Parker?

Well, Cherise temporized. I did think you needed to get away. And I do think it'd be good for you to see there are other fish in the sea, as it were...

And isn't the best way to do that by finding some stud muffin to soothe my bruised ego?

"Well, it sure wouldn't hurt to look..."

So. I've looked. And I've found. Indeed, Valerie watched, intrigued, as Cashmere, the wolf in sheep's clothing, threw three chips toward the center of the table. He did it with a casual air of challenge, an air Valerie suspected was intended to provoke the older man seated to his left. It worked. The older man shot Cashmere a sour glance and pushed six chips toward the center of the table.

Uh huh. Cherise was audibly smirking. So tell me, what does your stud muffin look like?

Let's see... Valerie enjoyed the view as Cashmere set his own, matching three chips onto the felt. He was calling the older man's bet, the one he'd incited him to make. He's got hair like a cup of rich coffee. Eyes the color of a stormy sea, and a build like — like — How to describe the air of carefully leashed strength, the compact reserve of pure masculinity? He's got a build like a street tough, she finally decided.

Mm, sounds yummy.

Very yummy. Valerie watched the two men set down their cards. The older man's face turned red. Valerie saw him spew what appeared to be swear words, get up from his seat, and stomp away. Cashmere calmly swept the chips from the center of the table toward himself. And I think he's a good poker player, too, Valerie mumbled.

What? I didn't catch that.

Nothing. The man's poker talent didn't matter. Valerie wasn't actually about to take up with a card shark. Nor was the card shark about to notice her. Not only was he professionally interested in his game, but a man this intriguing probably already had some equally fascinating woman with whom he was involved. Or could get one with a snap of his fingers.

Well. Fine. You go for it, girl. Cherise's tone indicated she didn't believe for one instant Valerie was going to pick up some stranger she'd met in a casino in Las Vegas.

The little devil inside Valerie made one more enthusiastic jump, then hung her face sheepishly. Cherise was exactly right. Valerie didn't do things like that.

Although the truth was, sometimes she wanted to. Or rather, she wanted to own the female confidence necessary to pull off such a maneuver. She wished she could be the sort of woman whose mere presence could make a man walk across the room to meet her. One day she'd like to be the sort of woman that an interesting, desirable man would choose above all others.

Instead of the sort of woman a man rejected in order to take up with, and soon get engaged to, somebody else.

I'll be waiting for all the details on Monday, Cherise told Valerie.

Mmmm. As if I'd kiss and tell.

Cherise laughed. Good one. Now I'll never know. Laughing again, she rang off.

Valerie sighed and set her elbow on the bar. With her cheek in her palm, she let her eyes rest on the wolf in sheep's clothing. Throwing three more chips onto the felt, he said something that made the other players at the table laugh.

Valerie smiled. All right, so watching wasn't very wild, but maybe it was just what she needed. Fortunately, a wolf like he would never notice a little sparrow like herself. That was the advantage of being a sparrow. He'd never notice. She could watch as long as she liked.

~~~

Roy noticed her the minute she sat down at the bar. She had dark, glossy hair, the face of a pure-hearted angel, and a tantalizing hint of feminine curves beneath the clinging sweater she wore.

Understated and classy, she clashed mightily with the glitz of the flashing slot machines on the betting floor.

It was funny what caught a fellow's attention when he'd achieved his life goal the week before. He was sitting here at a low stakes hold 'em table because he'd thought it would be more fun — more fun! — than entering one of the games where he won hundreds of thousands of dollars on a regular basis. And now he was getting distracted by a girl-next-door kind of woman who was sipping a Margarita at a speed that could not possibly induce intoxication.

Roy shook his head. Yeah. A nice girl.

Oddly enough, the nice girl had commenced staring at him. He could see it out of the corner of his eye. He could feel it, like a pair of fingertips, delicately touching here, and then there.

Your bet.

Frenchie, a dealer Roy knew well, was raising an eyebrow at him. It was rare Roy had to be told the action was on him.

Drawing in a breath, Roy slid his cards toward the muck. It was only after he'd completed the action that he realized the cards he'd just folded. Ace-king suited.

Well...hell.

He experienced a moment's shock he'd thrown away such a hand, then leaned back in his seat. No doubt about it, he really was distracted. A week ago, this wouldn't have happened. No mere woman would have been able to slip through his concentration. The Queen of England wouldn't have been able to slip through. A week ago, he'd still been focused. He'd known exactly what he'd wanted — and had gotten it. He'd hit the magic number of dollars in the bank, precisely what he'd told his father all those years ago he was going to earn by the time he turned thirty-five.

Yes, he'd achieved what he'd set out do.

Now he had no idea what he wanted any more.

Roy tapped his thumb against his thigh. Or maybe he did know what he wanted. Sensing the woman's eyes still upon him, he felt a stirring low in his gut. It was not an unpleasant sensation, like the stretching of muscles that hadn't been used in a while.

For a nice girl.

Your bet.

The dealer was looking at Roy again, who hadn't realized he'd been dealt a new set of cards. Like an idiot, he made everyone wait while he peeked at what he had. Then it was as if he hadn't even registered the measly three-five unsuited, but was still betting his last hand. He threw in three chips.

Did I just do that? Roy stared at his stupid bet lying on the table, then heard four other players match it. Not even a chance of stealing the blinds.

The dealer laid down the flop. A king, a ten, and a nine. Leaning back, Roy eyed the cards with a mixture of irritation and amusement. Now that it was too late, the numbers crunched in his head, falling over each other like ice in a glass until they fell into perfect alignment, each cube sitting straight on top of the others. He then knew, taking into account how many players were left in the action and how many cards were left in the deck, the precise odds of somebody making a straight, a high pair, or a flush.

He also knew that somebody was not going to be him, and yet he threw three more chips into the pot. As a completion to the motion, he lifted his gaze toward the bar.

She had her youthfully round cheek resting on one hand, like she had all the time in the world, and would waste as much of it as she wanted studying him.

Heat flashed through him. He'd never had a woman look at him the way this one was...like he was some rare kind of gem.

She blinked. Apparently she'd only just realized he was looking back at her. Her gaze shifted abruptly and she executed an awkward swivel back to the bar, where she poked her straw up and down in her Margarita.

Roy felt his lips curve. Any lingering paranoia he might have harbored disappeared. She hadn't been trying to get his attention; she didn't know who he was. Not an operator, but a simple tourist — a nice girl, curious about the big, bad gamblers of Vegas.

Your bet.

With no potential for taking the pot, and with no excuse now that the woman was no longer looking at him, Roy nevertheless tossed six chips onto the table. He looked back at the woman.

So she was curious about big, bad gamblers, was she? Well, he could educate her. Wasn't he the biggest, baddest gambler around? Roy felt a strange urge, a kind he almost never had, to do something impulsive.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the fourth community card, the turn, bring another king onto the table. The numbers tumbled over each other again in his head. Odds were good somebody had trips, or even a full house. With the mighty strength of his three-five unsuited, Roy tossed six chips into the pot.

Impulsive.

It wasn't a word with which he had any familiarity. Since age seventeen, he'd carefully scripted and strategically planned his life in order to meet his goal. Every action had been taken to prove his father wrong. Roy wasn't useless. He wasn't stupid.

He'd earned thirty-five million dollars.

But now that he'd completed his proof, he was without a script. He was free to decide to do something...for no good reason at all.

The Girl Next Door lifted her Margarita glass and took a sip, not daring to look Roy's way again. Shy, huh? He didn't think he'd been around too many shy women, in fact, probably none.

The river card, the fifth and last community card, was a deuce, which was certainly no help to Roy, but he threw in another six chips. To his left, a player with a beard turned over a king and a nine; he had a full house. There were groans around the rest of the table as the chips began sliding King-Nine's direction.

Roy stood up.

You want to buy more chips, Mr. B.? Frenchie looked over at him, confused. He'd never seen Roy bow out of a game when he was down in the money.

No, thanks, Frenchie. I...have something else to do. Actually, he had no idea what he intended, beyond saying hello. But Roy felt his smile grow as he tossed a chip Frenchie's way, then slid his two remaining dollar chips into his trouser pocket. He felt decidedly buoyant as he stepped away from the table.

If ever there was a great time to do something for no good reason at all, it had to be now.

~~~

Valerie speared her straw into the slush that used to be her Margarita and struggled to slow her heart rate. He hadn't looked at her; it had just appeared that way when he'd been gazing at something behind her, like the aquarium that stood as a pillar at the other end of the bar.

That's right. Hissing out a breath, she bet that if she peeked at the poker table now, she'd see him concentrated on the game. He was a card shark, after all. It was too mortifying to think he'd caught her staring at him.

She squeezed her fingers around the plastic straw and made herself glance over. She was correct. He wasn't looking at her. He was standing up. He was leaving the game.

A rush of disappointment hit her. She wouldn't be able to watch him any more. All she could do was crane her neck to catch a last glimpse as he strolled away from the table. Broad in the shoulder and lean at the hip, he not only looked like a wolf, he moved like one, too, smooth and predatory. Valerie managed to keep him in sight as he skirted the potted palms set below the platform of the bar.

She was still watching when he turned and bounded up the stairs that led to the bar area.

She froze. Okay, he was coming up to the bar — to get a drink. Sure. That's why he must have left the game, in fact. To get a drink.

It was a good theory, a great one, but Cashmere strode right past the empty seats at the bar. His steel-colored eyes rose to lock on hers.

No. She couldn't believe he was looking at her. Why would he do that?

She whirled to face her drink. With her heart thumping, she made a few more stabs in her Margarita with the straw. But she could feel him coming toward her. He stopped at the stool next to hers.

As Valerie stared at her drink, disbelieving, she felt a nudge against her right shoulder. Her eyes popped wide and her head whipped around.

He was looking directly at her. His beautiful mouth was curved in a smile of easy familiarity, as if they already knew each other. Right. As if he'd just found a good friend and had given her a playful shove.

Hey. His voice was as smooth and rich as the rest of him. You going to buy me a drink?

Valerie choked. Excuse me?

He seated himself on the stool next to hers. Buying me a drink is the least you can do after making me lose the last two hands.

Valerie's jaw dropped. I didn't make you lose!

Sure you did. He glanced away from her to give a nod to the bartender, then looked back, smiling. You distracted me.

An automatic scoffing sound came out of Valerie's mouth. Meanwhile her brain felt like scrambled eggs. His eyes, his build — it was all right next to her, talking to her, focused on her.

It wasn't that she never got approached by men. It was that she'd never been approached by a man as good-looking as this one. Certainly not by one she'd just been mooning over.

You're a menace, you know that? he went on. They shouldn't allow you out on the floor.

Please. His flattery was over the top, but still, it was flattery. He was going to that much trouble for her. How incredible was that?

Hey, look. He drew one shoulder back so that he could reach into his trousers pocket. Two dollars. He pulled forth a couple poker chips and held them out. After you — well, now that's all I've got left.

Oh, come on. You're a pro.

He halted then, as if she'd surprised him, which was when she discovered her accusation had been correct. He was a card shark.

He smiled and tossed the poker chips on the polished counter of the bar. The smile creased his cheeks with two long crescents. You think? And yet, I'm broke.

Oh, sure. Broke. Meanwhile the bartender came over and set a drink of clear liquid and ice next to the poker chips on the counter. It could have been anything from bottled water to vodka.

Thanks, Julio, the man said to the bartender, then turned back to Valerie. And since I'm out of money, and it's your fault, I figure it's up to you to entertain me for the rest of the evening.

Valerie blinked. Whoa. This was more than flattery. This was — an invitation to spend time with him. From Cashmere, the wolf, essence of all her feminine dreams.

And yet, she was in a bar in Las Vegas and she didn't know this guy from Adam.

Something shifted in his gaze. A micron of his predatory heat cooled. Oh, he said, in a different, and somehow less awe-inspiring, tone. Since we're going to be spending so much time together, I suppose I should tell you my name. I'm Roy. How do you do? Then, with a smile that almost made him safe, he reached his right hand past his glass of mystery liquid.

Valerie found herself lifting her hand. She found her mouth saying, I'm Valerie. How do you do? And then they shook hands.

His flesh was warm and dry, his grip firm but gentle. Jeez, even his handshake was the stuff of dreams, sending an amazed shiver down her arm to her belly.

But the fact remained: he was an absolute stranger. She let go abruptly. Um, I think you should know. I'm not into — I mean, even though this is a bar, and I am sitting here alone...

His brows drew down and he tilted his head. Valerie felt like a dolt. Here he was playing this subtle, sexual game, and she was fumbling about, blurting blatant truths. And not even managing to blurt them, actually.

But his expression smoothed. "Oh. I think I know what you mean. But I'm not expecting anything like that. Actually, I was feeling pretty flush you shook my hand and told me your name. That is your name, isn't it?" He smiled.

Valerie stared. She couldn't believe she'd just heard that. He was surprised he'd got this far? And the ease with which he'd come out with his admission, as if it hadn't cost his ego a thing. Yes, she told him. Valerie's my name.

His smile widened. Good.

And Roy is yours? she thought to ask.

Mm hm. His gray eyes seemed warmer now, definitely less threatening.

But the two dollars. His small admission had given her enough courage to tease. That isn't really all you have left.

A strange look crossed his face. Let's just say, it's all I have left for tonight.

Uh huh. Valerie supposed it was possible. She'd heard stories about gamblers who went up very high one night and were broke the next. But —

Now, don't worry on my account. He smiled again. In fact, I changed my mind. I'm not asking you to entertain me. I'll entertain you. He tapped the two poker chips on the counter. With this.

Excuse me?

He took a sip of his drink. "Perfectly aboveboard. Nothing illegal or illicit. Or even...the other thing you mentioned before. I bet I can provide you with a full evening's entertainment for...less than two dollars."

Valerie didn't want to tell him he could entertain her just by sitting there. Hm, she said, doing her level best to sound cool. Define a full evening.

With his eyebrows lifting, he stretched out his left arm and looked at a remarkably Rolex-looking watch. It's eight o'clock now. I'll bet I can give you a full night's entertainment, not a minute of boredom, all the way until midnight.

Midnight, hm? Inwardly, Valerie gawked. A man who looked like this, tough and suave and knowing, actually wanted to spend four hours with her?

Doing what? She was just an ordinary woman, no femme fatale. If this guy offered to spend four hours in her company, he anticipated getting something out of the business — probably sex — no matter how self-deprecating he'd sounded.

You're looking worried, he observed.

Damn. He was perceptive, too.

I'm not on the make, he claimed.

Very perceptive. Well, I... what? She — what? She was going to say yes to his proposal? Because of course he was on the make. And she wasn't going to — to engage in a one-night stand, no matter how yummy he was. But on the other hand...

On the other hand, this was her dream, wasn't it? Her deepest, most secret fantasy. He was looking into her eyes as if she were the most fascinating creature alive. If she spent the next four hours with him, she could pretend she was, in fact, such a creature: Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Angelina Jolie. She could pretend she was the kind of woman who could take a man to his romantic knees.

Instead of the kind of woman who got dumped for Cindy Parker.

He leaned his forearm on the bar. Well, you — what? he asked.

Well, she thought she was crazy for even considering the notion. He was an operator, totally smooth, an expert.

And yet — and yet — this was her chance. On top of which, he was so surprisingly nice.

Well, I guess that would be fun, she said. Less than two dollars. Let's see if you can do it. A blush heated her face as the words came out of her mouth. She was going to do this, take a chance, live a dream — have fun!

A long, happy crescent curved each of his cheeks. Yes, let's, he agreed, and cupped one of his hands, strong and firm, around one of hers.

CHAPTER TWO

Her hand was small and delicate in his. He took hold of it at the bar in Mandalay Bay, hoping to distract her as, already cheating on his two-dollar bet, he nodded a signal to Julio to put both drinks on his tab.

After that, he didn't want to let her hand go. He liked the sensation of fragility in his own big grasp. The few minutes he'd spent talking to her at the bar had confirmed every assumption he'd made about her via his perusal from the poker table. She was a drop of clean Ivory soap in a vat of cloying French perfume. She was a tree of fruit-producing wholesomeness in a garden of stunted hothouse orchids.

She was, like the low stakes game, completely unlike Roy's usual. And yet, he found he wanted to stick close.

So he laced his fingers with hers and acted like it was the most natural thing in the world for them to walk thusly joined as he steered her out of Mandalay Bay, as if they were great pals already. More cheating. She didn't really know him; she thought he was broke!

But Roy put that out of his mind as they walked out onto the sidewalk and into the chill February night. The black pyramid of the Luxor loomed ahead. Have you been to ancient Egypt? he asked.

Have I — ? Oh, you mean the Luxor. No, I haven't gone through that one yet.

Her sweet, nervous smile twined around him as delicately as her fingers twined through his. He smiled back and curled their fingers more snugly together. Good.

In the Luxor, she explored the Egyptian museum and laughed at the mummy robot who rolled up to her. The robot, remotely prompted by an electronics freak who knew Roy, warned Valerie to leave Roy, who was definitely poison, and stick by him instead.

She glanced over at Roy then, her dark eyes alight, the mischief in her like a fleeting, elusive butterfly.

Roy noted that, the potential for playfulness in her, and some primal compartment of his brain jumped. The sexual awareness that had been humming under the surface shot into the open. As he looked