The noise and lights of the casino greeted me, a cacophony of beeping machines, background music, and conversations. Clutching my purse in my hands, I took slow steps, trying to get my bearings. It was loud and bright and exciting, and I was going to make the most of it.
A slot machine seemed like a good place to start. I chose one of the smaller ones, took the seat in front of it, and fed in some money.
The screen flashed and I hit the button. A little thrill of excitement tingled my stomach as I watched the symbols scroll until—
Wait.
I won.
I didn’t win much, but I’d won a few dollars. Go, me!
Time to play again. I hit the button and the screen flashed.
I won. Again.
How was this possible?
I glanced around, wishing I had someone to celebrate with. I never won anything and I’d just won twice in a row.
Positive that I’d lose this time, I played again.
And I freaking won.
This one was a bigger payout—twenty dollars—and the machine celebrated for me with flashing lights and music. An old lady walking by gave me a big thumbs up. I smiled and waved back at her.
Okay, now I was on a roll. I pressed the button and this time I didn’t win. Still, the little tingle of excitement in my stomach grew. This was fun. I touched it again, just to see what would happen.
Winner.
I squealed, bouncing in my seat. This was so cool.
“Way to go, Goldilocks,” someone said behind me.
I twisted in my seat to wave at them when, just like that, my luck ran out.
My smile melted. Why was he here?
Well, probably to gamble. We were in Vegas, after all. But the last person I wanted to see tonight was Cox.
His mouth hooked in a smile that made me feel like a little fish who’d just come face to face with a shark. My tummy did a flip because damn it, he was so gorgeous. It was terribly unfair.
And then it hit me. He wasn’t looking at me. Camden Cox was not going to stare me down with that kind of predatory gleam in his eyes, even if Nora had turned me into Vegas Vixen Sophie. I was still Sophie Abbott, and men like him weren’t interested in women like me. There must be a bombshell in a slinky black dress nearby. That’s who he was looking at.
I glanced around, curious to see the woman who’d caught his eye. But the only people around me were a gray-haired couple wearing matching pink Hawaiian shirts with little palm trees on them, and a man with a sizable beer gut and gray chest hair poking out his partially open collar.
Cox walked straight toward me, looking stupidly hot in his button-down shirt, vest, and slacks. He’d taken off his tie, cuffed his sleeves, and left the top two shirt buttons undone, and why was that so sexy on a man?
Except he was Camden Cox, childhood tormentor.
“Sophie Abbott,” he said, his hint of a Southern drawl as smooth as melted chocolate. “Are you perhaps the same Sophie Abbott who once lived on Ashford Street?”
Oh my god, did he remember me? “That’s me.”
“You recognized me at the hotel last weekend. From back then.”
“You’re kind of hard to forget.”
His mouth hooked in a slow grin. “As are you. I seem to recall blond pigtails.”
“I’m not surprised. You used to yank them.”
He lifted his eyebrows and his hand twitched like maybe he was going to pull my hair right now.
And no, I didn’t want him to.
Much.
“Did I?”
“Yes. You were very mean to me.”
He chuckled, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t believe me that he’d been mean, or that he remembered it and thought it was funny. “I’m sorry; did I interrupt a winning streak?”
I couldn’t help the way the corners of my mouth lifted in a smile. “Yeah, I actually won a few times.”
“Congratulations. I hope that’s a sign of good things to come tonight.”
“I have been unusually lucky today.”
He smiled again, and there was that predatory gleam in his eyes. The nervous fluttering in my stomach made me feel like I could jump right out of my seat.
That wouldn’t be good. Knowing me, I’d land on my ass.
“Then by all means.” He gestured to the slot machine.
I was totally positive that he’d already brought my lucky streak to a grinding halt, just by being here. But when the symbols stopped flashing, I’d won.
I’d actually freaking won.
I bounced in my seat and gave myself a little round of applause.
Cox smiled down at me, his hand still resting on the back of the chair. “That was fun.”
It was fun. And maybe I could admit it was a tiny bit more fun with someone to celebrate with me, even if that someone was Camden Cox.
“This calls for a drink.” He waved his hand as if he were flagging someone down.
“I think the bar is over—”
Before I could finish, someone from the casino appeared, as if he’d been lingering nearby, waiting to do Cox’s bidding.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Cox?”
“A Glenfiddich for me, and whatever the lady wants.”
“Oh. Um, a martini, I guess? Dirty. Thank you.”
He nodded and left to get our drinks.
I wasn’t sure why Cox wanted to stand here and watch me play a slot machine, but that thought soon flitted away on the wings of more wins and the appearance of a martini in my hand. I didn’t win every time, but I won more than I lost. It was all I could do to keep from spilling my drink.
After yet another win, Cox gently tugged on my elbow. “Sugar, you’re on fire. Come on; let’s up the stakes.”
I stood, only wobbling a little, and he held my arm to keep me steady. “Up the stakes?”
His hand slid around to my lower back. “Absolutely. We can’t waste this kind of luck.”
“But I don’t—”
“Don’t worry,” he said, and his voice was so reassuring. “It’ll be fun.”
More fun? That was why I was here, wasn’t it?
With his hand on the small of my back, he led me to one of the craps tables. I had no idea how to play, but I figured how hard could it be? Place some bets, roll some dice.
Craps turned out to be even better than a slot machine. Cox explained the basics, and after the first few rolls, I started to get the hang of it. A well-dressed couple joined us and pretty soon we were the liveliest table in the casino.
The dealer pushed the dice toward me and I picked up two, then clutched them in my fist and blew on them for luck. I tossed them onto the table. They hit the back and bounced, coming to a stop to a chorus of cheers.
I was on fire.
Someone handed me a shot of whiskey. Cox held his up and we clinked our glasses together.
“To a magical night,” he said with a wink.
“I’ll drink to that.”
I swallowed the shot, feeling the bite as it slid down my throat. I wasn’t normally a whiskey girl, but whatever that was, it was good. So smooth.
“All right, sugar.” Cox took my shot glass. “Let’s see some more magic.”
I rolled the dice again and everyone at the table won. My arms flew overhead as I cheered. When had I stepped out of my shoes? I glanced down at the floor. They were right there, one tipped over on its side, and that didn’t seem to matter very much right now. Who cared if I was barefoot?