Game of Chance Read online

  "I thought maybe you wouldn't be here when I came this summer, Jess," she murmured compulsively, her usual shyness overpowered by her concern for her father's secretary. "In fact, I was almost hoping you wouldn't be, for your sake."

  A nearly tangible veil of self-protecting aloofness settled over Jess Whitney's pleasant features as she attempted to say laughingly, "I never knew you were eager to be rid of me, Kit. I thought you liked me."

  "It's because I like you that I wish you would go away," Katherine said softly, urgently. "And you know why I feel that way. You deserve a much nicer, fuller life than you have here."

  "I don't recall complaining about my life," Jess answered stiffly, her tone as aloof as her expression. "I'm happy enough, I assure you."

  "You can't expect me to believe that, Jess," Katherine said gently, shaking her head. "I know you're in love with my father and have been since you came to work for him when you were twenty-eight. I even know you had a brief affair with him, that you thought he was in love with you too, and that when he started seeing someone else, you still loved him too much to leave and try to forget him. Mallie told me all about it last summer when I was here and…"

  "Mallie has a big mouth, then," Jess said grimly, stiffening her shoulders. "She shouldn't have told you anything about Brice and me. What happened between us was a long time ago and all but forgotten. She shouldn't have dredged up the past and upset you by making it sound as if Brice did me some terrible wrong. He didn't, you know. I was an adult. I knew what I was doing when I got involved with him. So, please, forget what Mallie told you. There's no need for you to worry about me."

  "But I do!" Katherine exclaimed softly. "I hate to see you wasting yourself on a man like him. You're so nice, Jess, and it's not too late for you to find someone else, someone worthy of…"

  "Since when did you get your license to give advice to the lovelorn?" Jess interrupted rather sharply, then relented with an endearing grimace. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, but really, I'd rather not discuss this anymore, if you don't mind."

  "But, Jess, why waste your whole life on a man like my father?" Katherine persisted. "He's never going to change. And, much as you obviously still love him, I don't see how you've endured the past ten years, watching him indulge in affair after affair with other women. How have you been able to stand it?"

  Jess gave a smile that was too weary and too wise. "You've never been in love, have you, Kit?" she asked softly. "Well, after you've found the man you know you'll love all your life, ask yourself how I've endured it. I think you'll begin to understand. Love isn't something you can just turn off like a water faucet. It's tenacious. And it can survive all kinds of hell. I know that much from experience and don't think I haven't tried to stop loving Brice because I have."

  "Maybe you haven't tried hard enough." Katherine laid an imploring hand on the other woman's arm. "If you left here…"

  "I could never leave Brice, Kit," Jess said softly, sadly. "He needs me. Really. Even if you don't believe that and even if he doesn't even realize he needs me, he does. Your father is not as shallow as you think he is. He has emotions; he just doesn't know how to go about showing them. I could never walk out on him. It simply isn't that easy to do when someone needs you. But you'll discover that when you fall in love."

  "Ha! I hope I never do then," Katherine muttered disgustedly. "And if I do, it'll never be with a man like my father who always takes and never gives anything back in return. I want to fall in love with a man who can give me some emotional security along with his love. And if I can't find someone like that, then I'll just never fall in love at all."

  Smiling ruefully, Jess shook her head. "You're so young, Kit. You don't know yet that we can't always choose the right person to fall in love with. Sometimes it just happens."

  "Well, it's not going to just happen to me," Katherine declared with typically youthful false assurance. "I'll never fall in love with any man like my father." She sniffed disdainfully. "He may charm some people, but to me he's an irresponsible… "Her words halted abruptly as the man she was describing in such uncomplimentary terms suddenly opened his office door. Overwhelmed with shyness again, Katherine felt herself shrinking inside as she stared at him. He hadn't noticed her yet; the statuesque blonde with him was claiming all his attention at the moment. Another in his long, endless string of casual affairs, Katherine was sure, and she glanced out of the corner of her eye at Jess, who seemed to be resigned to the situation and too accustomed to Brice's indiscretions to 'even be upset.

  At last Brice Delacorte glanced up and saw Katherine. As he disentangled himself from the blonde's clinging bare arm, one of those reluctant, uncomfortable smiles lifted one corner of his mouth. He walked across the office to her, leaned down, and brushed a barely discernible kiss against the slight hollow beneath one high cheekbone. "I'm glad to see you made it here safely, Kit," he said unemotionally. "Did you have a pleasant flight?"

  Katherine nodded, noticing at this close range that the lines around his mouth had deepened since last year. For all of that, he was still a handsome man with green eyes and chestnut hair graying at the temples. She had to admit to herself that women would find him very attractive and might even be challenged by his cool, self-controlled demeanor.

  "Doesn't Kit look lovely, Brice?" Jess prompted when the silence between father and daughter lengthened uncomfortably. "She's beginning to look more her age than she did last year, don't you think?"

  "You look great, Kit," he answered, still expressionless. Then he turned to his blond companion, waving her toward the door. "Better get to rehearsal, hadn't you? I think you need it. You were out of step often enough in last night's revue."

  "But Brice," the blonde whined petulantly, "aren't you going to introduce me to your daughter?"

  "Later maybe," was his noncommittal answer. "Right now you need to rehearse more than you need an introduction to anybody. So go. You don't want to get fired, do you?"

  The blonde went but with an indignant toss of her tawny mane of hair, to which Brice paid absolutely no attention.

  When she had closed the office door behind her, he stood for a moment, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Looking at Katherine finally, he gave another one of those crooked, uncomfortable smiles. "Are you in any hurry to get to the house, Kit? If not, I want you to take some drinks back to some of the boys. Two of our cocktail waitresses aren't in today so we're a little shorthanded. You don't mind, do you?"

  Katherine breathed a silent sigh. She minded, not that it would do her the least bit of good. Last summer she had been drafted for waitress duty on two occasions and she was sure it would have happened more often if she hadn't avoided coming to the casino as much as possible. Now, she hadn't been here more than ten minutes and already she had been drafted again. She supposed she could stand it though. At least she didn't have to wear one of those skimpy uniforms the regular cocktail waitresses wore.

  When she nodded finally in reluctant agreement, Brice said flatly, "You look like a schoolmarm in that suit. At least take off the jacket. Then go out to the bar and tell them you want the drinks for the private game."

  "How's it going back there anyway?" Jess asked as she settled herself in her swivel chair behind her desk again. "They've been playing all night, haven't they? When's it going to end?"

  "Soon," Brice said sardonically. "I don't think our young heir to a fortune in oil fields is so sure he wants to become a professional gambler now. Jason is practically cleaning him out."

  How exciting, Katherine thought disgustedly as she left the office, jacketless, and went to the bar to pick up a tray with four drinks on it. As she walked down an opulently decorated hall beyond her father's office, she wondered why he had cared what she wore to serve these men. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd gone in dressed in sack-cloth and ashes or even wearing nothing at all, actually. She hadn't ever seen a professional gambler yet who noticed anything but the hand he held when he was in a hot game.

  Unsurprisingly,
none of the five men around the table in the private room even looked up as she opened the door and went in. But she eyed them disdainfully. Expensive ties loosened, collars unbuttoned, hair ruffled, they all looked the same to her except… Well, she had to admit the sandy-haired man in his early thirties at the far side of the table did look a little more presentable than the rest of them. It was easy to recognize that the younger man on his right was the heir to the oil fortune. He was perspiring profusely, obviously an amateur who had fancied himself a professional gambler and had gotten in over his head. He looked quite miserable, almost sick as he wrote out an I.O.U. and handed it to the sandy-haired man who took it without an iota of change in the unreadable expression on his lean, tanned face.

  Gamblers, Katherine thought, wrinkling her nose impatiently as she approached the table with the drinks. Gamblers were men who were hard and cold and totally devoid of emotion and that made them nearly worthless human beings, in her opinion. As she quietly asked each one in turn which drink he'd ordered, they all stared at the poker hands they held as if they were wondrous works of art. Not one of them so much as thanked her and as the oil fortune heir snatched his bourbon and water off the tray without giving her half a chance to hand it to him, Brice Delacorte came into the room.

  "I see you found them, Kit. Very good," he said quietly. "I just remembered I forgot to mention which private room the game was in."

  Katherine half-smiled at him and then, though she was fairly eager to escape the smoke-filled room, she realized she had only served four drinks and there were five players here. Since she was standing beside the sandy-haired man, she leaned over him.

  "Excuse me, sir, but I wasn't given anything for you," she said softly, politely. "Wouldn't you care for a drink?" As he lifted his head lazily, she detected the slight stubble of a day's growth of beard on his strong chin but it wasn't his need of a shave that disturbed her. It was the appreciative gleam that shone in his steel-blue eyes as they traveled appraisingly over the length of her slender body, then lingered intently on her mouth. When she blushed, he actually smiled at her, something she had never seen a gambler involved in a game do.

  "I think I'll just have coffee," he said at last, his voice deep and melodious. "Thank you, Kit."

  Her cheeks grew hotter. "My name is Katherine," she muttered defensively. "I prefer being called that."

  "I prefer calling you Kit. It suits you better," he answered with an unabashed grin. "Now, how about that coffee, Kit?"

  "Be my guest," she whispered irritably. "The coffee urn's on the table directly behind you."

  As the man's eyebrows lifted mockingly, Brice interceded. "For heaven's sake, Kit, pour Jason a cup of coffee," he muttered impatiently. "Can't you see he's in the middle of a game here?"

  A game he was obviously going to win, Katherine thought with a disgruntled sigh as she obediently poured a cup of coffee. Even though she had never played poker, she knew enough about it to realize that the three aces Jason held virtually assured he would win.

  "Thank you, Kit," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his deep voice as she put the cup of coffee down on the table next to his elbow. "I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble."

  Without bothering to answer, Kit collected the tray and marched to the door but before opening it, she was compelled to glance back over her shoulder. Heat suffused her cheeks once more as she found Jason watching her intently, that appreciative gleam in his blue eyes again. Pressing her lips firmly together, she lifted her chin, opened the door, and left. But outside in the corridor, she paused, frowning as she realized that except for the light hair, this enigmatic Jason looked very much like the man in her recurring daydream. Far more disturbed by that realization than she cared to admit, she walked on slowly. Then she resolutely shook her head. What did it matter if this Jason might be a danger to some susceptible, vulnerable females? That had nothing whatsoever to do with her. She would probably never see him again anyway and even if she did, it would make no difference. She had decided long ago never to become involved with a gambler and that certainly included him.

  Chapter Two

  In Brice's white Porsche, an off-duty croupier from the casino drove Katherine from Cedars to her father's house about an eighth of a mile along the narrow, winding road. Secluded in a stand of tall stately pines, the wood-frame lodgelike dwelling faced the lake and the property extended down a shaded path to a charming cove enclosed by jagged rock formations. To Katherine's delight there was a short stretch of beach where she invariably spent most of each summer, swimming in the cold, bracing water or simply sitting on the warm sand, daydreaming. Or, when she tired of those occupations, she hiked along the trails that meandered over the slopes rising above the opposite side of the secondary road. Though she never wanted to come to Tahoe, she had to admit she found pleasure and some serenity in the majestic splendor of the Sierras. She supposed if she had to unwillingly spend two and a half months a year somewhere, this was the best place to be. And even here, it could have been worse. Her father could have resided at the hotel and she could have been spending every summer in that resort atmosphere without even the privacy and peace she found here in this house tucked away in the woods.

  After the blackjack dealer had left her luggage on the sundeck and had driven away again, Katherine stood at the railing and gazed with some longing at the path that led down to the cove and its beach. If she didn't dillydally, she decided, she would have time for a leisurely swim before she would need to begin getting ready for dinner. Picking up one suitcase, she turned and knocked on the front door. When there was no response from inside the house for several minutes, Katherine simply opened the door and went in. She saw immediately that her father had redecorated his living room. Now, the pieces of a white sectional sofa were arranged in a cozy grouping facing the stone fireplace. There were several chrome and glass tables bearing pieces of smooth, modern, abstract sculpture and modern paintings that seemed to her little more than vivid splashes of vibrant colors on canvas decorating the white plaster walls.

  Wondering what had been done to the room she used, she decided finally that there was only one way to find out and she called out to Mallie. There was a sudden clatter of pans in the kitchen that was situated behind the far end of the living room. Then a plump woman in her fifties with a beaming smile on her face opened the louvered doors and hurried to Katherine.

  "Miss Kit! Ain't you a sight for sore eyes?" she exclaimed, enfolding the slender girl in a near smothering hug against her ample bosom. Then she held Katherine away from her slightly, her perceptive blue eyes sweeping over her in a close, intense inspection. "Child, if you ain't turned into a real beauty and grown up too in the past year."

  "Oh, I haven't changed all that much, surely. Not since last summer," Katherine said modestly. "I just look different, maybe a little older because I'm wearing my hair up now."

  "And I like it that away, too." Mallie shook her head approvingly. "I'm glad you didn't let nobody cut all that pretty hair off shorter than some boys are wearing theirs these days. Craziest thing I've ever seen—girls with shorter hair than boys'. It's a good thing you didn't have yours shorn off that way. I'd have turned you over my knee if you had."

  Katherine didn't doubt that for a minute. In her much younger days, she had occasionally felt the housekeeper's hand meting out punishment on her fanny, especially when she had disobeyed and wandered away from the house where Mallie no longer could see her playing safely. A mountain woman, Mallie wasn't especially talkative but when she did speak, she said exactly what was on her mind and when she made threats, she carried them out. Yet, there was never any doubt in Katherine's mind that Mallie loved her and her tender affection made up in some degree for her father's indifference.

  Compulsively, Katherine hugged Mallie again briefly and brushed another kiss against her plump cheek, then sighed. "Well, tell me how you've been this winter. I worried about you when you never answered my letters. What was wrong? Arthritis in your hand
s again?"

  "Some mornings they was so stiff I could hardly move 'em, especially during the coldest spells. But," Mallie added sheepishly, "I never was much for writing letters anyhow. But it sure pleased me to hear from you. Now, I bet you're wanting a bath after your trip so let's get you settled in your room. While you're soaking in the tub, I'll do the unpacking for you."

  Agreeing with that suggestion eagerly, Katherine retrieved her second suitcase from the deck, then followed Mallie down a long corridor that led to the bedrooms at the back of the house. Though her father had redecorated her room with plush white carpet on the floor and forest green-sprigged muslin drapes and bedspread, he hadn't replaced the cedarwood furniture she loved. All of it was still there, the bed with its carved head and footboards, the chest of drawers, and carved vanity, and the old hope chest that she had always hidden her most precious belongings in as a child.

  She rummaged through a suitcase, found her favorite faded denim bikini and went into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind her and hurriedly peeling off her clothes. After a cool shower, she felt considerably fresher and more energetic and she was smiling as she stepped out of the marble tiled shower stall onto a plush white bathmat. But as she wrapped a huge towel around her slim body, her smile faded abruptly. Hanging on the back of the bathroom door was a nearly transparent black nightgown and it certainly wasn't Katherine's. Her lips pressed firmly together, she wriggled herself into her bikini, snatched the nightgown off the brass hook, and opened the door to her room.

  She tossed the provocative garment toward her bed and it drifted like a wisp of smoke before Mallie's startled eyes, then settled in a heap on the bedspread. "Unless you've taken to wearing frothy nightgowns," Katherine said stiffly, "this must belong to one of my father's 'friends.'"