might be able to seduce her away from her fiancé. Inducements marched through his mind…powerful attractions for most women. But if he did win her like that…would he still want her?
Give it up, man, he told himself savagely.
Kristen was ready and willing…so long as he paid the price she demanded. Which he could well afford.
Settle with her and be done with it.
CHAPTER THREE
SUNNY headed for the ground-floor casino, determined on having a showdown with Derek. He hadn’t come to the lunch—not even waiting outside the conference room to give her a courtesy comment on her presentation before skipping off—and he hadn’t shown for the last session, regardless of the fact that Bryce Templar had been giving out awards. His respect for the big man obviously hadn’t extended that far.
She didn’t like the casino floor. The assault on her ears from countless bell-ringing slot machines was horrific. It was bad enough walking through it. Actually spending hours here was beyond her understanding. Having finally located the roulette tables, she scanned them for Derek and was frustrated at not finding him. Could he have gone to bed—the need for sleep catching up with him?
Frowning, Sunny moved from foot to foot, too worked up to walk away with so much angst playing through her mind. She shot her gaze in every direction, not really expecting to resolve anything, simply at a loss to know what to do next. It came as a shock when she actually spotted Derek, seated at a blackjack table, watching the cards being played by the dealer with an intensity that cramped her heart.
He was caught in a thrall that nothing was going to break.
It seemed that nothing else mattered.
Sickened by the realisation of how destructively addictive gambling could be, Sunny hesitated over confronting Derek, yet the relationship they had shared up until this week demanded that he at least recognise how he was treating it. The need to get through to him drove her over to the blackjack table. She waited until he threw down his cards in disgust, apparently having lost his bet, then tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Derek…’
He sliced an impatient frown at her.
‘…could I speak to you, please?’
‘Can’t you see I’m playing?’
‘It’s important.’
Grimacing at the interruption, he heaved himself off his chair and tipped the back of it onto the edge of the table to hold his place. ‘What’s so damned important?’ he demanded, his bleary eyes snapping with frustration.
‘It’s the last night…’
‘I’ve just lost the roll I won at roulette. My luck’s got to turn…’
‘Derek, we’ve got seats for the Jubilee show. And dinner beforehand.’
‘The action is here. I’m not leaving it.’
‘Don’t I mean anything to you anymore?’ she cried, trying to get through the obsessive glaze to some grain of perspective on what he was doing.
The personal tack clearly irritated him. ‘I sat through your presentation. You slayed ’em as you always do. Is that what you want to hear?’ he said ungraciously, then waved a sharp dismissal as he added, ‘If you’re hot to go and watch some showgirl extravaganza, fine. But as you just pointed out, this is our last night here and I want to win my money back.’
‘And what if you don’t? What if you lose more?’
He looked shifty.
‘Derek, just how much have you lost already?’
Feverish need flashed at her. ‘I’ll win it back. It’s only a matter of time.’
An icy fear struck her. ‘Have you been gambling on credit?’
‘That’s my business. We’re not married yet.’
No sharing. No desire to share. Complete shut-out. Hurt and disappointment held her silent for a moment as she realised beyond any doubt that there could be no happy future for them. A bitter urge to show him what he’d done, how low he had fallen, had her wrenching the diamond ring off her finger.
‘Here!’ She held it out to him. ‘You can pawn it. Get some more money to throw down the drain.’
It rocked him. ‘Now look here, Sunny…’
‘No. Try looking at yourself, Derek. It’s over for me.’
‘Well, if you feel that way…’ His eyes glittered as he took the ring. ‘You’ll change your mind when I win a bundle.’
He was unreachable on any level. ‘I won’t change my mind. We’re through, Derek,’ she said with absolute finality.
His gaze had dropped to the diamond in his hand, and Sunny had the gut-wrenching impression he was assessing what he could get for it. Her eyes blurred—all the inner torment of hopes and dreams being just swept away suddenly catching her by the throat. For their eight-month-long relationship to come to this…
She swung away, swallowing hard to stop herself from bursting into tears and making a spectacle of herself. Her legs moved automatically, driven by the need to get out of the casino, out of this dreadful playground which trapped people and drained them of any soul she could relate to.
The slot machines jangled around her, a cacophony of sound that seemed to mock her misery. She completely lost her bearings, not knowing what direction led to an exit. A moment’s enforced reasoning told her to head for the hotel’s reception desk from where the lobby was definitely in view.
It was such a relief to break free of the vast gambling area, tears swam into her eyes again. This time she simply put her head down and followed the walkway to the lobby, hoping not to run into anyone who knew her.
The limousine was waiting. His plane was waiting to fly him back to L.A. Kristen was waiting for him to return to her, no doubt ready to sweeten her prenuptial demands with how well she would accommodate his needs. Bryce Templar told himself that what he’d just witnessed didn’t change anything, but still he lingered in the lobby, watching Sunny York.
She’d taken off the diamond ring.
The man she’d handed it to wasn’t following her.
Her haphazard flight from what was clearly a distressing scene had finally been checked and she was heading towards him. Not consciously. She hadn’t seen him. She wasn’t seeing anything except the floor stretching ahead of her.
‘Your bag is in the car, sir,’ the bellhop informed him.
He nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the long beautiful legs of Sunny York, walking her towards him. The memory of her warm vibrancy played havoc with his usual cool decision-making processes. Here was opportunity. The guy at the blackjack table was one hell of a big loser and that loss was right in front of Bryce to be capitilised upon. The urge to do so was more compelling than any urge he’d
