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She sensed the male decision in him. He was more than ready to carry her off to bed, and wrapped as she was in the magic of the illusion, Alyssa could not have protested if she had wanted to do so.
Obediently, she allowed him to take her arm and guide her out of the cocktail lounge.
They walked past the roped-off baccarat table where elegantly attired men and women lost their money to a croupier in a tuxedo, andJordansmiled.
"One thing you get for your money at baccarat is a classy environment," he observed.
"That's about all you get. With the rules so completely established by the house, I have yet to figure out a way to better the odds in that game," Alyssa said sadly.
Jordan, shrugged. "I doubt that anyone has. Theoretically, the house edge is only a little over one percent in baccarat, but there isn't any room for skill or mathematics, and people lose quite steadily. It holds no appeal for real gamblers or people like you and me, but that doesn't seem to stop a lot of folks from wanting to play."
"It's because of the image," Alyssa decided wisely. "What with everyone having to dress to the hilt to play and the croupier and the ladderman in tuxes and the whole area cordoned off, it makes one feel elegantly European and rich. The illusion is everything in gambling."
Jordanglanced down at her. "So it is. But you and I see past the illusion, don't we? Our magic is possible because we see the mathematical structure behind the fagade and we have a feel for it."
"Yes, I suppose so." They were in the elevator now, and Alyssa shivered at the inevitable approach of passion. They were talking of math and probabilities and gambling, and all she could think about was what it would be like in a few minutes whenJordantook her in his arms. It was a dizzying, reckless sensation that made it difficult to think with anything remotely resembling her usual logic.
When they stepped out into the corridor that led to the bordello-red bedroom, Alyssa swayed slightly, and whenJordan's arm immediately came around her, she leaned gratefully into his strength. Amazing, she thought contentedly.
"What's amazing?"Jordanasked, opening the door to his room.
Alyssa blinked up at him, unaware she had spoken aloud. "You are," she explained politely as he led her inside.
"And why is that?" His smile was one of anticipation and passion and gentleness as he pulled her close.
The golden eyes seemed to go molten, and Alyssa thought she would melt under the heat of them.
"Because you're so strong, so solid, so real," she heard herself whisper as she lifted her arms to encircle his neck. "Illusions aren't supposed to be so very real."
Her lashes had fluttered shut as she raised her mourn for his kiss, and so she did not see the hardness that appeared in the depths of his gaze. "Alyssa,"Jordangrowled softly as he picked her up and carried her over to the round bed, bathed in desert moonlight, "don't ever make the mistake of thinking I'm not quite real. Don't put me in the category of illusion, honey, or you will find yourself taking what will undoubtedly be the first genuine gamble of your life. And I guarantee you will lose."
But Alyssa was too wrapped up in this new world of sensation to heed the warning.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Four
The jet heading back to Los Angeles International had just reached fifteen thousand feet when Alyssa remembered the dinner party she was scheduled to give the following Friday evening.
With that memory, reality came flooding back. Instinctively, she turned in the seat, straining to glance back in the direction of Las Vegas, but the glittering city in the middle of the desert was already out of sight Jordan would have caught a cab back to his hotel. In another couple of hours, he would be preparing to go to work. The night shift, she decided in wry humor. Her lover worked the night shift at his job. And when she was with
She sensed the male decision in him. He was more than ready to carry her off to bed, and wrapped as she was in the magic of the illusion, Alyssa could not have protested if she had wanted to do so.
Obediently, she allowed him to take her arm and guide her out of the cocktail lounge.
They walked past the roped-off baccarat table where elegantly attired men and women lost their money to a croupier in a tuxedo, andJordansmiled.
"One thing you get for your money at baccarat is a classy environment," he observed.
"That's about all you get. With the rules so completely established by the house, I have yet to figure out a way to better the odds in that game," Alyssa said sadly.
Jordan, shrugged. "I doubt that anyone has. Theoretically, the house edge is only a little over one percent in baccarat, but there isn't any room for skill or mathematics, and people lose quite steadily. It holds no appeal for real gamblers or people like you and me, but that doesn't seem to stop a lot of folks from wanting to play."
"It's because of the image," Alyssa decided wisely. "What with everyone having to dress to the hilt to play and the croupier and the ladderman in tuxes and the whole area cordoned off, it makes one feel elegantly European and rich. The illusion is everything in gambling."
Jordanglanced down at her. "So it is. But you and I see past the illusion, don't we? Our magic is possible because we see the mathematical structure behind the fagade and we have a feel for it."
"Yes, I suppose so." They were in the elevator now, and Alyssa shivered at the inevitable approach of passion. They were talking of math and probabilities and gambling, and all she could think about was what it would be like in a few minutes whenJordantook her in his arms. It was a dizzying, reckless sensation that made it difficult to think with anything remotely resembling her usual logic.
When they stepped out into the corridor that led to the bordello-red bedroom, Alyssa swayed slightly, and whenJordan's arm immediately came around her, she leaned gratefully into his strength. Amazing, she thought contentedly.
"What's amazing?"Jordanasked, opening the door to his room.
Alyssa blinked up at him, unaware she had spoken aloud. "You are," she explained politely as he led her inside.
"And why is that?" His smile was one of anticipation and passion and gentleness as he pulled her close.
The golden eyes seemed to go molten, and Alyssa thought she would melt under the heat of them.
"Because you're so strong, so solid, so real," she heard herself whisper as she lifted her arms to encircle his neck. "Illusions aren't supposed to be so very real."
Her lashes had fluttered shut as she raised her mourn for his kiss, and so she did not see the hardness that appeared in the depths of his gaze. "Alyssa,"Jordangrowled softly as he picked her up and carried her over to the round bed, bathed in desert moonlight, "don't ever make the mistake of thinking I'm not quite real. Don't put me in the category of illusion, honey, or you will find yourself taking what will undoubtedly be the first genuine gamble of your life. And I guarantee you will lose."
But Alyssa was too wrapped up in this new world of sensation to heed the warning.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Four
The jet heading back to Los Angeles International had just reached fifteen thousand feet when Alyssa remembered the dinner party she was scheduled to give the following Friday evening.
With that memory, reality came flooding back. Instinctively, she turned in the seat, straining to glance back in the direction of Las Vegas, but the glittering city in the middle of the desert was already out of sight Jordan would have caught a cab back to his hotel. In another couple of hours, he would be preparing to go to work. The night shift, she decided in wry humor. Her lover worked the night shift at his job. And when she was with
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