My heart jolts so hard I swear I can see it trying to escape my chest.

Ashley sits at a blackjack table, flanked by two handsome businessmen—one black-haired and bronze-skinned, the other blond and tanned—in suits. Expensive suits. Just because I only wear them when necessary doesn’t mean I can’t tell fine clothes from cheap ones.

Fuck. It. All.

She’s laughing, but I don’t hear her, of course. The din of the casino—bells, laughter, screams of joy—overshadows everything.

Everything is black and white. Only Ashley vibrates with color—her blond hair, red lips, pink shirt cut low to expose the tiny bit of cleavage she has. Is that a push-up bra? Why is she wearing a push-up bra?

Anger heaves into me. Or is it jealous rage?

I don’t know what the hell it is. I know only that my Ashley is flirting with two men who are probably younger than I am.

I had sex with two men at once.

Her confession from last night. Rather, two nights ago, as it’s after midnight now.

This is so not happening.

I stalk toward her despite the crowds. People cower and make way for me, as if I’m a giant plowing through their Lilliputian environment.

Apparently it’s obvious I mean business.

I come up behind her.

“Ashley,” I say gruffly.

She turns, and—

“Oh my God! Dale!” She jumps off her stool and throws her arms around my neck. “What are you doing here? You know what? I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I’m just so glad you’re here.” She presses her lips to mine in a quick kiss.

“You’re up, darlin’,” the dark-haired suited man says.

I say nothing, though I feel a growl deep in my chest. Does Ashley hear it? Is it wine red? Or is it black, the way I feel?

She turns. “Oh! Right.” She scrambles back onto her stool and makes the gesture to stay. “Dale, this is Carlos and Mike. They’re from Texas.”

Like I care. “Cash out,” I say. “We’re leaving.”

“But I’m on a winning streak. Carlos says never to leave a table when—”

Do I look like I care what Carlos has to say?

Carlos—I assume—meets my gaze and holds out his hand. “Carlos Cruz.”

I take his hand under duress and grip it hard. Hands off. She’s mine.

The blond holds out his hand next. “Mike Hammond. And you are?”

“Dale Steel. Ashley’s boyfriend.”

Man, that sounds stupid. I’m thirty-five years old. Too old to be simply a boyfriend. This bites.

So your idea of a threesome is off the table.

“Carlos and Mike are here for an oil and gas convention,” Ashley says. “They just happened to find me at the slot machines and asked if I wanted to learn blackjack.”

Just happened to find her. Right.

“They’ve given me some great pointers.” Ashley holds up a little card. “This tells you what to do each time to maximize your odds of winning.”

Great pointers, huh? Those cards are available in every gift shop in Vegas. Nice touch, guys. You found a woman who’s never gambled before—never been to Vegas before—and you’ve made yourselves look like you know what the hell you’re doing.

Game over.

“Ash,” I say, “let’s go.”

“But—”

“Now.” Through gritted teeth this time.

“Hey, man,” Mike says. “The lady’s doin’ great. She shouldn’t stop now.”

I lift one eyebrow. “The lady is leaving. Now.”

Ashley moves from her stool once more. “I can’t leave now,” she whispers. “The guys have been buying me drinks. I don’t want to be rude.”

“Buying you drinks, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“While you’re playing?”

“Yeah.”

I can’t help myself. I burst into laughter. “Sweet Ashley, drinks are free while you’re playing. The house wants you drinking.”

“But they ordered…”

“You’d know this if you’d ever been to Las Vegas before.”

“So they haven’t bought me any drinks…”

“Did you see either of them start a tab?”

“Well, no, but…”

I laugh again.

“Stop it, Dale.” She gives me a swat on my upper arm. “Just stop it. I’m not that innocent.”

I shake my head. “Innocent? Hardly. Not after what I learned last night.”

Her cheeks redden.

I’ve pissed her off.

Good. She pissed me off. She gets to Vegas, and the first thing she does is hook up with two Texans who convince her they know blackjack with a betting-odds card anyone can find and trick her into thinking they’re buying her drinks.

“I guess I’ve fucked up your plans for a threesome,” I continue. “I’m out of here.”

“Really, Dale?” she says. “You really want to go there? I was thrilled to see you. I jumped out of my chair. You really want to accuse me of anything untoward with those two? They’re not even my type!”

“They have dicks, don’t they?”

She shakes her head. “Fuck you.” She turns and flounces back to the table.

I want to follow her. Instead, I watch her. I watch her sit back down between the Texans—one dark and one light. I imagine her as the prime beef between sourdough and pumpernickel.

And I’m mad.

I’m mad as hell.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ashley

Who does Dale Steel think he is?

I smile charmingly at Mike and then at Carlos and nod to the dealer. “I’m in.”

Except my heart is no longer in the game. I was having fun. So what if this card I’m holding can be bought anywhere? So what if Mike and Carlos weren’t actually buying me drinks? It’s not like I was planning to go to bed with them. It never entered my mind.

Fuck Dale Steel.

After the next hand, I grab my chips. “I’m out, guys,” I tell Carlos and Mike. “Thanks for a fun evening.”

“You’re not leaving yet, are you?” Carlos says in his voice dripping with caramel color.

“Yeah. I have to go see him.”