Gambler's Woman by Jayne Ann Krentz Read Free Book Online Page B

through the few items. The driver's license was issued to one
Jordan Kyle at an Oregon address. Alyssa automatically calculated his
age from the birth date given and came up with thirty-nine. She had
been right when she'd suspected he was dangerously near the forty-year
mark.

"Hmmm," she noted with an unexpected surge of wry amusement "No visible
means of support. How
does a professional gambler get credit cards?" She held up a couple of
pieces of the magic plastic.

His mouth curved wryly. "It's not easy. Not at first.  Eventually,
the bank stops asking questions when one's account becomes sufficiently
large."

"I'll have to remember that"

"You don't have that problem. After all, you have a real job. Honest
employment Banks love people
like you."

She glanced up, surprised by the curious note in his voice. He looked
half intrigued and half wary. The thought crossed her mind very briefly
that he seemed almost envious. No, that was crazy. He was the
one with the exotic life-style, living the fantasy to the hilt She only
dropped in on the illusion occasionally.

"I have the feeling that your bank is probably lots more in love with
you than mine is with me. Something tells me your account is
considerably more established. After all, I've just started, uh,
supplementing mine."

"What do you tell people when you blow your ill-gotten gains on
something frivolous? How will you explain the red Porsche when you buy
it?" he asked deliberately.

"If anyone asks, I'll tell him I've had a good year in the stock
market," she said uneasily, this wasn't a subject she wanted to pursue.

"Why not tell the truth?" Jordan persisted coolly, his eyes studying
her with an intensity that made her even more nervous.

"That would be impossible," she stated flatly. "The truth would cost me
my job."

"You're kidding! Cost you your job?"

"Ummm. That company I work for, Yeoman Research? It prides itself on
having several government contracts as well as some other
business-sensitive research arrangements. People who gamble as much
as I've been doing lately are considered something of an employment
risk in situations like that, to say
the least.  We're seen as being particularly vulnerable to
blackmail and pressure in order to pay off gambling debts. We might
very well resort to selling company secrets, or worse, government ones.
If
the management at Yeoman Research knew I was spending so much of my
time in Las Vegas lately,
I would undoubtedly be quietly asked to leave or, at the minimum,
transferred to a less sensitive
position on the staff. That would be almost as bad from my point of
view."

"Why?"

"Because I'm in line for promotion. With luck, I will be named the new
manager of my department next month," Alyssa told him, unable to hide
her satisfaction at the thought "I've worked hard, and I deserve the
slot. I like the statistical research and analysis I do."

"Better than you like winning at the card tables?"

"I happen to enjoy both," she said very steadily, "and I don't see why
I can't have both." If I'm very careful, she amended silently.

"That's known as having your cake and earing it, too, and as I recall,
it doesn't always work," Jordan pointed out politely.

"I'm going to make it work." Aiyssa tossed his wallet back at him,
Jordan caught it almost absently. Excellent eye-hand coordination, she
decided with a sigh. Gained after years of experience at his
profession, no doubt "Now, if we've quite finished with the
interrogation this morning, I'd like to get dressed and go back to my
hotel room." Might as well try to salvage what dignity there was left
in this situation, she told herself forcefully. It would have been
easier if he weren't lying naked at the end of
the round bed.

"You can't leave yet," Jordan informed her gently.

"Why not?" Aiyssa lifted her chin challengingly.

"You haven't seen how the shower works in that tacky bathroom." Quite
suddenly, he was grinning
again. The engaging, piratical grin that she'd only caught flashes