Page 73 of Sinful Escape

My turn. The dealer flipped a card onto my first ten, a king. Yes. With a smile twitching at my lips, I swiped my hand, indicating I’d rest.

He dealt the second card onto my second ten. An ace! The crowd erupted into applause.

“Blackjack!” The woman beside me squealed so loud it was a wonder she didn’t shatter the million-dollar chandelier in the center of the gaming tables.

My heart thundered. In the space of one minute, my mysterious ghost player had made more than twelve hundred euros. The dealer paid out for the blackjack straight away, paying thirty euros for me, and an enormous stack of chips for James Bond behind me.

The dealer moved onto the lady at my side who squealed again when she won, and I wriggled my finger in my ear, hoping she hadn’t rendered me deaf.

“May I buy you a drink?” James Bond’s deep baritone in my ear drove a delicious shiver up my neck.

Yay, my hearing was still intact. “Oh um, yes please, that’d be lovely.”

His lips were a fascinating shade of crimson and a line of hair led from those luscious lips to his neatly trimmed beard. “What would you like?”

“A glass of champagne would be nice.”

“French champagne, I assume, or do you have another preference?”

“Well, my favorite is Louis Roederer, if that’s okay?”

His eyebrows bounced together, and I scrambled to retract my request. “Oh no,” I blurted a stupid chuckle. “Sorry, no, pardon me, that’s too expensive, I’ll have?—”

He touched my forearm, and the familiarity of the move made me draw a breath. “It would be my pleasure. You’ve just won me a decent kitty; it’s the least I can do.”

James Bond clicked his fingers, and a scantily clad waitress scurried over. As he ordered our drinks in French, I glanced at Roman. His eyes bulged and he gave me a thumbs-up signal.

Rolling my eyes at Roman, I turned my attention to the dealer and our next round. The first two players drew a series of small cards and stopped their accumulation at seventeen and eighteen respectively. Conversely, my first card was an ace. James Bond backed up my ace with one thousand euros.

My heart set to explode.

It was like the dealer was moving in slow motion, drawing out the grand reveal. He flipped the next card. A jack! Blackjack again! I just about burst with relief as the crowd around me erupted into cheers.

Roman was as loud as the woman at my side.

Two blackjacks in two hands. It’s my lucky night.

When James Bond reached over my shoulder and placed my champagne on the felt before me, I noticed his unadorned wedding finger. Maybe I’d hit the greatest jackpot of all—a smoking-hot, single man, willing to buy me a drink. That was another first for me.

I swiveled to him. “Thank you very much.” My breath caught at how handsome he was. And it wasn’t just his attire. He was Top Model material. Carefully trimmed three-day growth, stunning eyes rimmed with long, dark lashes and lips that were totally kissable. My mind swirled in a whirlwind of crazy. His tongue lashed out, brushing over his lips, and when his eyes flared, I realized he’d caught me staring. I whipped around, back to the table. Heat crawled up my neck and it took all my might not to fan myself.

I glanced at Roman. He mouthed, “Lucky you.”

I sucked my lips into my mouth, trying not to smile, but it was impossible.

Daisy Chayne did not get lucky. Then again, I’d been ‘lucky’ twice on this tour. Maybe Roman was right . . . I was putting out vibes. With my current strike rate, the vibes were more akin to supersonic radars.

Whoa, calm down, sister. All he did was buy you a drink after he’d won some money. That’s it.

He was just being a gentleman.

Deciding not to push my luck at the cards any further, I thanked the croupier and scooped my chips into my clutch. I grasped my champagne and when I pushed back on my chair, James Bond assisted by easing it out for me. I stood and my clutch flopped to my feet. A flush of embarrassment shot up my neck as I went to gather it from the floor.

“S'il vous plait, allow me.”

My mysterious stranger bent at my feet, and when I glanced at Roman, he gave me a two-thumbs-up signal and flashed a ridiculously zealous smile. Stifling a giggle, I bulged my eyes at him and mouthed, “Stop it.”

When James Bond drew back up to full height, my breath escaped me as I looked up into the most incredible smoky gray eyes. Everything around me vanished into obscurity as I fell into his gaze.

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