“Different, right?” She laughed. She did a little spin, giving me a fantastic view of an ass so perky that I felt like I needed to wipe away drool. Then she was facing me again, and it was an effort to keep my eyes trained on hers, not on the full breasts nearly spilling out of the top of her dress.
Damn it, every bit of her was perfect. Maintaining professional boundaries wasn’t going to be easy, especially if we opted to enjoy the island’s signature alcohol, Ouaca, which was rumored to be strong enough to knock a lumberjack on his ass with just one glass.
Yeah, I needed to avoid anything that altered my ability to make good decisions, because Nina made me want to break all of my rules.
“You look lovely,” I finally managed. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” she grinned. “I haven’t had a night out in ages. I love being on board, but after a while, I start to feel like a caged animal.”
“Well, tonight you can run free,” I said as I navigated us through the crowds.
We eventually made our way to the casino and wound up side by side at the gleaming private chef’s table in the casino’s five-star restaurant. The chef kept up a running commentary as he prepped our meals. We didn’t have to worry about making small talk since we were his captive audience for the majority of dinner. Not that I was complaining; the food was incredible, and fresh drinks showed up anytime our glasses were less than half full.
“Hey,” Nina bumped her shoulder against mine as we waited for our dessert. She looked extra smiley and giggly.
“Yes?” I drawled.
She leaned close, and her warm breath tickled my ear. “I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
I cleared my throat. Um, I wasnotanticipating such a bold proposition. I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I want to gamble,” she leaned back and threw her hands in the air. “I think I’m going to win all the money in this joint!”
I laughed at her enthusiasm, swallowing down the disappointment over my misunderstanding. “Is that so? What’s your game of choice?”
She paused and pushed out her bottom lip. “Huh. I actually dunno. Do slot machines count?”
The chef chuckled as he drizzled melted chocolate over something that already looked sinfully chocolate-y. “Not if you’re a real gambler. Craps is where you want to be.”
I had to agree with him. The energy of a good craps game was hard to beat. I could already imagine Nina getting the whole table to cheer her on.
“I don’t know how to play,” she pouted.
“Your man looks like he does,” the chef replied. “You two can be a team.”
We both rushed to correct him.
“Oh, she’s not?—”
“No, we’re not—” Nina said.
“Together,” we answered in unison.
The chef paused with the chocolate-dipped spoon hovering in the air above the plate. “Oh. Well, okay then, if you insist.”
He hid a smile, and I wondered just what he’d seen happening between us. After all, all we did was eat. And laugh. And regale each other with stories of our worst voyages in between chef-talk. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable kickoff to our evening.
The chef disappeared after handing over our dessert, then reappeared a few moments later trailed by a beautiful blonde in a black cocktail dress clutching a tablet.
“Good evening, Mr. Ashford and Miss Reyes, I’m Alanna Jones, gaming liaison,” she began. “I heard that you might be interested in playing craps with us this evening. I wanted to invite you to our join us in our Elite Player’s Club.”
She presented me with a deep purple key card with no writing on it other than the casino’s discreet logo.
“It’s where our executive guests play. It’s a more…elevatedgame than what you might find out on the floor,” she continued.
Translation: it’s where suckers with more money than sense went to lose in private.
“Does it get wild?” Nina asked.
