“Let’s go lose my money,” she said, laughing.
Entering the double ballroom, Wynn saw every game of chance imaginable. The mathematician in him leaned toward card games, simply because he could count cards over a period of time. His risk taker side enjoyed other forms of gambling as he based his bets on probability.
“Hey, Carreen!” Scarlett called. Tugging on him, she said, “Come meet my sister.”
He recognized the name as the sister Rhett had referred to. The one who’d beaten cancer several years ago.
The two women hugged. “Where’s Bob?”
“Being useful and getting me a drink.” Carreen eyed him with interest.
“This is Wynn Gallagher,” Scarlett said. “My big sister, Carreen Gorman. She’s the oldest Corrigan kid and an interior designer.”
He took Carreen’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you. Rhett spoke of you tonight.”
Carreen blushed. “That’s why I don’t go to the dinner anymore. Rhett used to make a big fuss over me. Every eye in the room would turn in my direction and stare. After a few times experiencing that, I told him I’d be happy to attend the casino portion of the evening but Bob and I would opt for a nice dinner out on our own.”
“He mentioned you have two teenagers,” Wynn said.
“A boy and horror of horrors, his younger sister, who is a Jekyll and Hyde creature. Bobby ranges from sullen to outgoing, all in a cloud of Axe spray. Melissa thinks she’s thirty and knows everything—and wants to dress twice her age in skimpy clothes. Don’t get me wrong, Wynn. They’re terrific kids. I love them to pieces. I just don’t like them much these days.”
Wynn laughed. “I don’t have kids. I don’t envy the battles you’re fighting.”
“Wynn’s going to watch me lose all my money,” Scarlett said. “He thinks he can help me learn how to win.”
Carreen laughed. “No one told him how hopeless you are?”
Scarlett sniffed. “Very funny. Talk to you later.”
They worked their way through the various games. As noted, Scarlett proved hopeless at gambling. She had zero strategy combined with little patience and her money quickly vanished. It wasn’t wasted time, though. She flirted with Wynn as she played and he found himself flirting back, even though he was rusty. It had to be back in college when he’d last flirted with a girl. A lifetime ago. A flash of Stephanie flitted through his memory and he knocked it away. He’d slammed the door on Stephanie Drummond—and his emotions—a long time ago.
Yet tonight, Scarlett Corrigan was slowly bringing him back to life.
He placed a few bets himself and found himself losing as quickly as she had, his attention distracted by the woman at his side.
“I must be rubbing off on you. And not in a good way,” she teased.
Wynn made one last bet with everything he had left, placing it all on black. The wheel turned up red and he boldly took Scarlett’s hand and drew her away from the gaming table. Their fingers now entwined, he found himself tongue-tied, like a middle schooler making his first move on a girl he liked.
Ordering himself to get a grip, he calmly asked, “Would you like to get a drink?”
Scarlett tilted her head and studied him a moment. “I’d like that. Very much.”
Leading her from the noisy ballroom, Wynn took her back to the escalator. They rode it from the mezzanine to the terrace level and he led her across the large lobby to outside.
“Where are we going?”
“Generous donors to the Corrigan Foundation receive the use of a bungalow for the evening,” he said lightly. “The Montrelle also provides champagne on ice and promised fruit and cheese would be waiting so that I could entertain properly after the charity event ended.”
“Mmm. I adore champagne,” she murmured.
They reached his bungalow and he claimed the key card from his inside jacket pocket without having to release her hand. For some reason, it was important to him to keep holding on to it.
Opening the door, he saw housekeeping had left a few lights burning low. The expected bucket of champagne awaited them, as did a platter that held an assortment of fruits and cheeses. Wynn led Scarlett to the sofa and they seated themselves, their fingers still threaded together. She sat her clutch down on the coffee table before them. He leaned back and she came with him, resting her head against his shoulder. They sat in silence. Wynn hadn’t known such contentment existed.
Finally, Scarlett broke the spell. “I’m getting thirsty. We shouldn’t let Dom Perignon go to waste.”
Wynn pulled away and set two flutes in front of them. He lifted the ice-cold bottle and popped the cork. Pouring each of them a glass, he handed Scarlett one and took the other.
“To new beginnings—and a new friendship,” she said, gently tapping her glass against his.
He drank deeply, enjoying the fizz and airiness of the expensive champagne. He wasn’t much of a drinker but tonight he was open to anything.
Scarlett sipped on hers, smiling over the rim at him. “I’ll have to thank Rhett for springing for the good stuff.”
“Your brother is a class act,” Wynn said. “In every way.”
“I agree. We had very little growing up. Daddy was a drunk who couldn’t hold a job. Mom divorced him and he vanished from our lives. I was six at the time so I don’t really remember him. Even though Rhett was only ten, he became the man of the family. He took on a paper route. Sold magazines door to door. Swept up at a barber shop. He kept moving up the ladder with odd jobs at a variety of places, bringing home every dime he made and giving it to Mom. Rhett understands what it’s like to be poor. He’s got a tremendous work ethic. And he would do anything for his family and friends.” She downed the rest of her drink and set it on the table.
Wynn rested his empty flute next to hers.
