Chapter 1

1

Brandon loved the slick feel of a fresh deck of cards. He liked the way the faces shone beneath the casino’s flashing lights. He liked how sharp the reds and blacks looked against the green felt table. He liked the way they snapped into place, and how easily they slid out of the dispenser. No matter how many shifts he worked as a blackjack dealer at the Bellagio, he never got tired of the smell of a fresh deck beneath the stench of cigarettes, alcohol, and perfume that permeated every inch of the gaming floor.

He was reflecting on the newest deck when Seth Cahill slid into the seat at the corner. Brandon didn’t acknowledge him any more than he would acknowledge any guest, but all of his senses went on high alert. His long blond hair hung over his brow, looking casual and deliberate at the same time, and his laughing blue eyes were locked on Brandon as he dealt out the hand. Brandon had expected him, of course, but it was still a bit of a surprise. A part of him always expected Seth to grow bored with him and move on to other tables, other dealers, other casinos. Maybe one day Seth would. But for now, he was sitting at his usual spot, watching Brandon with that combination of amusement and desire that always made Brandon a little heady.

“Your bet, sir?” he asked, addressing Seth first.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Seth tossed forward two ten-dollar chips. “The cards behaving themselves tonight?”

The elderly man toward the other end of the table pushed forward a small stack of chips with a small snort. “Only if you’re the house.”

Seth grinned, though his gaze dipped down Brandon’s body for a long second. “One of these days, the house is going to have to let go.”

Brandon’s mouth twitched. If they had been alone, he would have reminded Seth that for the past month, the house had done nothing except let go.“Hit or stand?”

Seth only glanced at the seven and eight he had showing before tapping the table for a card

The other player huffed in derision. “Just throwing your money away, kid. Don’t do it.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” His smile unfailing, he nodded at Brandon. “Hit me.”

Brandon pulled a fresh card from the dispenser and turned it over, revealing the six of hearts. “Twenty-one.”

“I guess I’m lucky tonight.”

Brandon smiled. “Yes, sir.”

He looked over to the other man. Disgust twisted his face as he studied his cards. “I’ll stand at eighteen.”

Brandon flipped his cards, exposing a ten and a three. He drew another three. The man perked up at the sight, his eyes shining. Until Brandon drew a four. “Dealer stops at twenty.”

“Oh…fuck this.” He gathered up what remained of his chips, sent one last withering glance at Brandon, and staggered away, rather tipsily.

“At least he knows to walk away before he loses it all,” Seth commented. He left his initial twenty on the table for the next hand, pushing his cards back to Brandon. “Not that I’m complaining. Now I get you all to myself.”

“I don’t mind you having me all to yourself, but don’t think you’re going to win again,” Brandon warned.

Seth cocked a brow. “You wouldn’t be suggesting I didn’t win that hand on my own, would you?”

“Of course not. What are you doing over here, anyway? I thought you were going to work tonight.”

“I am working.” Leaning forward on his forearms, Seth leveled what Brandon had always called his you know you want to listen to melook at him. “It’s time we start working on how we pick out our targets, don’t you think?”

“Now?” Brandon looked around to see if anybody was paying attention to them, but all the guests were too caught up in their own small joys and dramas. It was a strangely slow night, though Brandon expected the traffic to pick up in a few hours. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ve never done it before.” Seth’s knowing smile never wavered. “You’re nervous. That’s understandable. But have I ever steered you wrong?”

“No,” Brandon admitted, placing another card in front of Seth. Despite the fact he was a frequent visitor to Brandon’s table, nobody had caught on that the two of them knew each other. “But it just seems…what if I’m no good at it? What if we get caught?”

“I’m not going to let you get caught.” He tapped the table without even glancing down to see what Brandon had dealt him. “Besides, this is the perfect time to give it a go. A light crowd, few distractions. We can take it as slow as you want. And don’t tell me you don’t like it slow. I happen to know that one for fact.”

As the meaning of Seth’s words sunk in, Brandon’s face flushed a light pink. “Would I have to talk to anybody tonight? You know I’m no good at that.”

“I know no such thing. You talked to me the very first time I sat down here.”

“That doesn’t count. All I did was ask you if you were having a good night. That was being polite.”

A single brow shot up, though his eyes continued to twinkle. “Really? Because it sounded to me a lot like, ‘You’re the best looking guy to sit at my table in a month. Don’t you dare leave without getting my phone number.’ Which I got, remember.”

“All that means is you’re good at reading between the lines.” He dealt Seth a four—giving him twenty—and himself a seven—resulting in twenty-three. “Dealer busts. I guess I’m just worried that…I won’t do it right. And then you’ll be disappointed.”

Seth chose the moment Brandon reached to take the cards to take back his chips. Their fingers brushed, as direct a contact he ever allowed when he was sitting at Brandon’s table, but it was enough to draw out goose bumps up the length of Brandon’s arm.