Chapter 7
Theo almost swallowed his tongue when he and the guys entered the saloon at nine that night. And it wasn’t because of how the wood-panelled room had been transformed into a casino thanks to Kelly’s superior event-styling skills but because of the woman waiting for them behind the roulette table.
‘Good evening, gentlemen.’
Tiffany – her hair pulled back into a tight, sleek bun, her croupier uniform the whole Casino Royale wet dream – smiled demurely through lips that were a rich glossy red, like she’d just walked out of a Robert Palmer video clip.
She looked prim and proper and untouchable.
The perfect evening hostess. Like nothing could ruffle her.
Like a true professional.
Like she hadn’t opened her legs for him within two hours of their acquaintance and demanded he fuck her.
And Christe, if that wasn’t hot enough to boil his eyeballs in their sockets.
Rufus whistled appreciatively. ‘ Enchanté ,’ he murmured. ‘You’re making me feel exceptionally underdressed, Tiff.’
Given the lingering warmth of the evening, all six men were still in their attire from dinner, which was variations of shorts and T-shirts.
‘Ditto,’ Fabian agreed.
Another demure smile. ‘T-shirt or a tux doesn’t make any difference to me, I’ll happily take your money.’
Everyone but Theo laughed. ‘Ah, fighting words, I like.’ Rufus cocked an eyebrow at Theo. ‘She is such a delight, isn’t she?’
Theo gritted his teeth at the devilment in Rufus’s eyes.
The rate he was going he’d have ground them down to stumps by the time they returned to Athens.
Ever since he’d snapped at Rufus this morning, the guys had smelled blood in the water, and in that unguarded moment, Theo had shown his hand.
They were used to seeing him with women; they weren’t used to seeing him act like a dog guarding a juicy bone with any of them.
He’d revealed to them what he hadn’t been willing to admit to himself – he was seriously into Tiffany Wainwright. And they were going to be relentless.
Theo’s gaze slid to Tiffany looking all cool and controlled and you can’t touch this in her collared white and red pin-striped blouse, the long sleeves ending in broad cuffs at her wrists, the bodice tight.
Her dove-grey, narrow-strapped vest skimmed around the outer curve of her breasts to button just under them, framing their fullness to perfection.
Finishing off the ensemble, a large bowtie the exact colour of the pin-stripes nestled against her throat at the juncture of her two collar points.
And Theo wanted nothing more than to reach across and tug it open.
He recognised it as the uniform worn by all female croupiers on any of the ōceanós cruise ships.
No wonder so many men lost money at their tables.
Hell, had he known that Tiffany looked this damn good in it, he’d have found it impossible to resist staying a night or two on the Hellenic Spirit just to sit down at her table.
Despite his one-and-done rule.
‘She’s a real treat,’ he murmured, his gaze meeting hers. A treat he wanted to steal away to his suite, tear away her wrapping and gnaw on at his leisure.
A barely discernible lift of her right eyebrow told Theo she knew exactly what he was thinking before her gaze slid to Rufus. ‘Well, gentlemen, why don’t you head over to the bar and grab a drink and I’ll get you set up with some chips.’
‘Mmm,’ Fabian said, winking at Theo. ‘Bossy, too.’
Theo narrowed his eyes at Fabian, who merely smiled. Bastards were going to have a lot of fun at his expense. After all, who knew better than good friends how to really push buttons?
Although not, as it turned out, as much as Tiffany in that damn tie.
‘I think,’ Irving announced, looking around, ‘this is giving martini vibes.’
With a ceiling covered in red and black balloons, cocktail glasses full of red and black dice and thick gold rope looped to form an official-looking VIP section, the saloon had been transformed.
‘Shaken not stirred,’ Ben agreed heartily. ‘Is that possible, Kelly?’
Behind the bar, Kelly smiled. ‘Shaken, stirred or dirty as you please. Everything is possible.’
Theo meandered to the bar with his friends as Kelly served drinks and they boasted about their prowess at the table and the wins they’d had, but Theo was far too distracted to be paying much attention to the smack talk.
Tiffany had stepped out from behind the table to reveal the skirt of her uniform, which should surely be illegal anywhere on sea or land.
It wasn’t that it was short because, coming to just above her knee, it clearly wasn’t. Or that she was poured into it although, God help him, she wore it like a second skin. It was the way she walked in it as she paced back and forth between tables, swinging her hips in that way men didn’t.
Purely subconscious but utterly female.
And how it flared out from the cinch of her waist to encase an ass a man could hold on to and thighs he could happily drown in. Thighs that belonged in a Rubens painting.
Then there were her calves and the way her six-inch, black, fuck-me stilettos set them off, the muscles bunching and loosening with every footfall, the action almost as mesmerising as the swing, swing, swing of her hips.
‘What do you reckon, Theo?’
Dragging his attention back to the bar, he faced five – six, if he counted Kelly, who also seemed to be picking up the vibe he apparently couldn’t stop putting down – amused expressions waiting for his response.
With no idea what they’d been talking about, he quickly scanned their faces and took a punt. ‘I agree,’ he said with a nod.
Everyone laughed as Hugo handed him his martini. ‘Good guess.’
* * *
Three hours later, the evening was winding down with just Rufus and Theo holding chips as they played another round of poker.
Aside from the undercurrent buzzing between her and Theo, Tiffany had enjoyed herself immensely.
With only six people to worry about and keep track of at the table, it was the easiest croupier job she’d ever done, especially with the increasingly tipsy Englishmen placing wilder and wilder bets.
It had been like taking candy from a baby.
Theo’s friends were funny and charming, and it was evident from their camaraderie and their stories how close they were. They teased each other mercilessly and it was interesting seeing Theo in a different light as he laughed at the shared anecdotes.
She’d already seen the playboy who had shamelessly flirted with her at the wedding making no secret of his attraction.
She’d seen the boss. The singular alpha one who had ordered her off the boat, the egalitarian one who had eaten with the crew and the off-the-clock one who had told her about his pappou .
And now she was seeing him as the uni friend, and the clear affection these men held for him – not because of his money or his rep or his bloody great superyacht, but because of their shared history – told her more about him than any night spent between his sheets.
About the kind of person he was. And hell, if that didn’t sit far too pretty in her brain.
‘Waiting on you, sir,’ Tiffany prompted Rufus, even though she knew he had a hand full of rubbish and Theo was sitting on three kings.
Because of course he was.
But even as she concentrated on the baby-faced banker, she was aware of Theo’s gaze fanning across her like a lighthouse beacon.
Aware of how it lingered on her throat and filled her with the irrational urge to strip off her tie so she could breathe properly.
It seemed to cinch a little tighter with every passing minute.
How was it possible to be surrounded by five other people – and yet feel like it was just her and him in the room?
It was insane, this chemistry between them. This physical pull she felt in his presence. If she’d known this was going to be the result of their one-night stand, she’d have passed on the job.
Probably.
‘Tiff, have I told you about that time Theo?—’
‘Rufus.’ Theo glared at him. ‘Quit stalling. Piss or get off the pot.’
Clearly unconcerned by Theo’s objections, Rufus continued. ‘—got an old-lady ass-kicking on the streets of Holborn?’
Tiffany laughed before she could stop herself, grateful for the reprieve from Theo’s heated intensity. Now, that she would like to have seen. Ignoring Theo and the waves of disapproval rolling off his body, she said, ‘You did not.’
‘But you want me to tell you, right?’
Tiffany shot a quick look at Theo, all stern and forbidding, and hell if her stomach didn’t lurch.
But she’d be damned if she let him see how much his presence tonight was disturbing her, and anything that could take Theo Callisthenes down a peg or two was welcome.
Smiling with faux sweetness at her boss, she returned her attention to Rufus.
‘You betcha,’ she confirmed.
The guys cheered and drummed their hands on the table as Theo grimaced. Completely ignoring his friend’s displeasure, Rufus launched into the story. ‘I think we were about nineteen.’
Nineteen. It was hard to imagine Theo as a teenager when, in her mind, he’d always be the suave, sophisticated man that exuded the kind of ease and confidence that only came with age. That came with having lived and experienced.
‘He and I had just come out of a pub we used to frequent where’d we’d had a cheeky pint?—’
‘I had a pint,’ Theo interjected. ‘You had several.’
Ignoring Theo, Rufus continued. ‘And there was this older lady?—’
‘Ethel,’ Hugo interrupted.
Tiffany glanced at the men. Clearly this was a story that had been told and retold. Possibly even gone down in legend between the six of them.
‘Ethel,’ Rufus said with a nod, his chips clinking as he fiddled with them. ‘She was probably twenty-feet in front of us in this big old coat, a little hat with a feather perched on her head and this old-fashioned handbag – kinda like the Queen used to carry – swinging from her fingertips.’
‘And a frilly pink umbrella hooked over the other arm,’ Irving supplied with a grin. Clearly that was an important detail.
‘Right,’ Rufus confirmed. ‘It had been raining on and off all day and it was freezing. Which also meant there weren’t many people about.
Then this guy comes from a side alley, walking towards her and snatches her handbag.
It all happened very quickly. She yelps and before we know it, he’s sprinting past us. ’
‘But Theo, with his cat-like reflexes, sticks out his foot at the last moment,’ Fabian whispered dramatically.
Tiffany remembered how much Theo had reminded her of a jungle cat at the wedding. The way he’d prowled towards her with utter intent. But Jesus, do not think about that now . Giving herself a mental shake, she smiled at Rufus. ‘You don’t have cat-like reflexes?’
‘Well… I was a little worse for wear.’
Theo snorted. ‘You could barely walk in a straight line.’
‘Anyway,’ Rufus continued, unconcerned by all the interruptions.
‘The thief falls on the ground and Theo jumps on him, trying to retrieve the handbag, but he’s not giving it up without a fight.
Then Ethel, who is wearing these Coke-bottle glasses, stalks over and all she can see is Theo’s hand on her bag so she starts bashing him over the head with the umbrella, demanding he give it back.
So now poor Theo’s trying to grab the bag and ward off the umbrella attack. ’
The guys cracked up and Tiffany joined them, the mental picture tickling her sense of humour. ‘And what were you doing throughout all this?’ she asked Rufus when everyone’s laughter had settled.
Another snort from Theo, who was now crossing his arms. ‘Laughing his ass off while I was being handed mine.’
Unabashed by his lack of action, Rufus grinned. ‘I swear to you, Tiff. I was laughing so hard I almost fell over.’
Theo shook his head. ‘Why are we friends again?’
‘Because.’ Rufus wriggled his eyebrow. ‘I’m endearingly charming.’
Theo didn’t deign to answer as Tiffany waited for the conclusion. ‘Well?’ she demanded from the grinning men. ‘What happened next?’
‘With all the commotion,’ Rufus continued, ‘the thief decides to cut his losses and escape, leaving Theo with the bag.’
‘And once I had two hands,’ Theo said, supplying the rest, ‘I was able to disarm Ethel and give her bag back.’
Tiffany glanced in Theo’s direction. The funny anecdote had given her a break from the weight of his gaze, and she felt like she could breathe again. ‘Were you injured?’
‘Only his pride.’ Ben sniggered, which caused another round of laughter.
‘Oh, but you haven’t even heard the best bit.’ Rufus grinned anew. ‘Ethel insisted on rewarding him and wrote him a cheque for five pounds. Him.’ He pointed at Theo. ‘She refused to take no for an answer.’
Tiffany pressed her lips together at the thought of Theo, the heir to a Greek shipping line who’d just wrestled a frilly pink umbrella off an elderly woman, taking a paltry cheque for his troubles. ‘Did you spend it wisely?’
Theo rolled his eyes. ‘I donated it to a charity. Now’ – clearly done with the topic, he picked up his cards again – ‘if you’re ready, could we get back to finishing this game?’ He turned those blue eyes on Rufus. ‘I believe it’s your call.’
Rufus pushed all his chips into the centre. ‘I’ll see you and I’ll raise you all of this.’
Theo flipped his cards over to reveal his kings. Rufus grinned as he turned his over to reveal a whole lot of nothing. ‘You got me.’
Everyone groaned. ‘You suck at poker,’ Fabian muttered.
‘Yeah, but I excel at bluffing. Now.’ He picked up his glass of whisky and addressed his fellow guests. ‘I think it’s time we turned in for the night so poor Tiff can get to bed.’ Eyeballing each man individually – except Theo – he threw his drink down.
One by one, they followed suit, the heavy tumblers making soft thuds as they were placed on the padded felt edge of the card table. One by one they bade Tiffany goodnight. One by one they shuffled off.
Until there was just her and Theo.