The Winning Hand Read Free Page A

celebratory crowd, nudging well-wishers aside. He saw her, a slip of a woman who looked barely old enough to be inside the casino. Her dark blond hair was short and messily cut, bangs flopping down into enormous fawn-colored eyes. Her face was angular as a pixie’s and pale as wax.
    Her cotton shirt and slacks looked as though she’d slept in them, and as if she’d spent her sleeping hours curled up in the desert.
    Not stoned, he decided when he took her arm and felt the tremble. Terrified.
    Darcy cringed, shifted her gaze to his. She saw the war chief, the power and the challenge and the romance of him. He’d either save her, she thought dizzily, or finish her.
    “I didn’t mean—I only … What did I do?”
    Mac angled his head, smiled a little. A dim bulb, perhaps, he mused, but harmless. “You hit the jackpot,” he told her.
    “Oh, well, then.”
    She fainted.

    There was something wonderfully smooth under her cheek. Silk, satin, Darcy thought dimly. She’d always loved the feel of silk. Once she’d spent nearly her entire paycheck on a silk blouse, creamy white with tiny gold buttons, heart-shaped buttons. She’d had to skip lunch for two weeks, but it had been worth it every time she slipped that silk over her skin.
    She sighed, remembering it.
    “Come on, all the way out.”
    “What?” She blinked her eyes open, focused on a slant of light from a jeweled lamp.
    “Here, try this.” Mac slipped a hand under her head, lifted it and put a glass of water to her lips.
    “What?”
    “You’re repeating yourself. Drink some water.”
    “Okay.” She sipped obediently, studying the tanned, long-fingered hand that held the glass. She was on a bed, she realized now, a huge bed with a silky cover. There was a mirrored ceiling over her head. “Oh my.” Warily she shifted her gaze until she saw his face. “I thought you were the war chief.”
    “Close.” He set the glass aside, then sat on the edge of the bed, noting with amusement that she scooted over slightly to keep more distance between them. “Mac Blade. I run the place.”
    “Darcy. I’m Darcy Wallace. Why am I here?”
    “It seemed better than leaving you sprawled on the floor of the casino. You fainted.”
    “I did?” Mortified, she closed her eyes again. “Yes, I guess I did. I’m sorry.”
    “It’s not an atypical reaction to winning close to two million dollars.”
    Her eyes popped open, her hand grabbed at her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m still a little confused. Did you say I won almost two million dollars?”
    “You put the money in, you pulled the lever, you hit.” There wasn’t an ounce of color in her cheeks, he noted, and thought she looked like a bruised fairy. “We’ll deal with the paperwork when you’re feeling a little steadier. Do you want to see a doctor?”
    “No, I’m just … I’m okay. I can’t think. My head’s spinning.”
    “Take your time.” Instinctively he plumped up the pillows behind her and eased her back. “Is there someone I can call to help you out?”
    “No! Don’t call anyone.”
    His brow lifted at her quick and violent refusal, but he only nodded. “All right.”
    “There isn’t anyone,” she said more calmly. “I’m traveling. I—my purse was stolen yesterday in Utah. My car broke down a mile or so out of town. I think it’s the fuel pump this time.”
    “Could be,” he murmured, tongue in cheek. “How did you get here?”
    “I walked in. I just got here.” Or she thought she had. It was hard to remember how long she’d walked around, goggling at everything. “I had nine dollars and thirty-seven cents.”
    “I see.” He wasn’t sure if she was a lunatic or a first-class gambler. “Well, now you have approximately one million, eight hundred thousand, eighty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents.”
    “Oh … oh.” Shattered, she put her hands over her face and burst into tears.
    There were too many women in his life for Mac to be uncomfortable with female tears. He