The Drazen World: The California Limited (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read Free Page A

pressed her ruby lips to the rim of the fine, bone china confection, he realized that he had never considered tea cups so much as wanting to be one in that moment.  He stood and watched her, his assessment unguarded, then tucked his newspaper under his arm and strode to the table across the aisle from hers.
    “Is the coffee any good?” he asked as he sat facing her.
    Her eyes flicked to him and she coughed a smile into her hand, then cleared her throat.  “I wouldn’t know.  This is tea.”
    “Tea,” he repeated as if considering the idea, then signaled a waiter and ordered coffee.  “You must feel like the wrath of God this morning.  I trust you slept horribly in those ridiculous couches come beds.”
    “No worse than you, I trust,” she said.
    “Far worse.  I have a sleeper.”
    She smirked.  “Of course you do.”
    “Now what does that mean, I’d like to know?”  Then he took a sip of his coffee.  “No,” he choked out.  “I meant to ask you one thing first and receive a satisfactory answer.  But…you distracted me with your cup and…your tea.”
    “How did I distract you?”  She was trying her best to speak with him while looking straight ahead.  Someone had done her level best to fashion a proper young lady.  Yet today she seemed more open, more unguarded, and he meant to test just how far she would go.
    “What is your name?” he asked, dipping his head to catch her gaze.
    “I haven’t decided yet,” she replied.
    “Pardon?  What haven’t you decided?  Your name or whether you would tell me?”
    “I plan to change it when I get to Hollywood.”
    “Are you an actress?”
    “Something like that.”
    His brow knit.  “All right.  For now, what may I call you?
    “Minnie,” she said in small-toned resignation.
    “Minnie.”  He nodded, a smile spreading across his face.  “Good.  Grand.  It suits you.  It’s sweet.  The way you had me dangling it might have been Minerva or Blanche.  Wait.  It isn’t short for Minerva, is it?”
    She shook her head. 
    “I like it.  Minnie.  Now we’re getting somewhere.”
    They ate their breakfast in companionable silence until Jack sat back.  “Where are you from, Minnie?”
    “Racine.”  She said it confidently as if a challenge.
    “Racine.  See there, you’re wrong, sweetheart.  I do know Racine.  In fact, my roommate in college was from Racine.”
    “Really?”  She finally looked at him in unrepressed delight.
    “No,” he said, deadpan.
    She rolled her eyes and turned away, covering a spreading smile.
     
    48 hrs. to Los Angeles
    After breakfast, Jack followed Minnie to her compartment, sat down across the table from her, and signaled a porter for a deck of cards.
    “Just what do you think you’re about, Mr. O’Drassen?”
    Deck in hand, he began to shuffle, cutting and bending and sifting, his fingers flying with ease through the stiff cards.
    “We’re going to play a game,” he said as he worked them, his eyes fixed on the cards.
    “Are you sure this is entirely appro—“
    “Ah-ah.”  He put a finger up.  “Yes.  Whatever you were going to say, whatever you were thinking, the answer is yes.  Do you play?”  He glanced at her.
    “No.”
    He smirked and returned to shuffling.  “I think you’re lying, but we’ll start easy, then.”  Somehow, at some point, Jack had found himself in the unenviable position of chasing a woman who so clearly wanted to be chased.  He was done with that and determined to turn the tables on her.  He dealt the cards, until each of them had half the deck.  Then he took off his suit coat and rested his forearms on the table, the cards between.  “Slap Jack.  A child can play it and you’re no child, are you?”
    She slowly shook her head.
    “No.  Now the play is simple.  We each turn a card over at the same time into a pile in the middle like so.”  He demonstrated and she did the same.  “Until a Jack is face up.  Then you slap it.  Whoever