Games of the Heart (Crimson Romance) by Eva Shaw Read Free Book Online Page A

the Beemers.”
    I heard him laugh as I blotted my face. Sweat spewed down my back. I dashed into the casino before I was a total sopping mess, rather than half of one.
    With the light playing with the sparkles in yet another cowboy shirt, I could not miss Gramps. I wanted to. I longed to snap my fingers and get beamed into a parallel universe where everything was hokey pokey, where chocolate had no calories, size 14 was trim and bathroom scales were forbidden by law.
    No luck, but praise the Lord. The bridegroom was alone, sitting on a tall bar stool at the coffee cart, chatting with the blonde little wisp of a barista. He was laughing, and she nodded and spoke to him. Seemed to me that he was pretty chummy with the gal, who he’d probably befriended during his three-week under-the-covers pity party. Maybe he’d come here a lot, and with only our eventful talk the previous evening, I hadn’t even thought to ask if he’d gambled away his 401K, the IRAs, and the house in Carlsbad, like that would have instantly come to mind, but it should have because I was thinking it now.
    Like it or not, and I did not like it at all, in another few minutes, I’d be making slapdash chitchat with my grandfather’s paramour.
    “You’re a good girl, Jane. Knew you’d come. Would have called you back, but the battery on the cell died.” He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a kiss on the cheek. His breath only smelled like coffee. Good sign. At least he wasn’t adding alcohol to assault and injury upon the shreds of our relationship in an attempt to find his path down some yellow brick road to ruin.
    “Traffic was, well, you know traffic.”
    “You’re here now,” he interrupted, and it was just as well because I had no idea what to say next. “Thought you might not want to hang around with this old dude after my confessions.”
    “Never thought — ”
    “Baloney. Hey, want you to meet someone special. You’re going to love her as much as I do,” he said.
    “You said that before, Gramps. Let’s just get this over with.” Okay, I wasn’t playing nice, or fair, as I sputtered this and twisted around. Where was his woman? People strolled and dashed, depending on their mood, through the casino, off to dinner, a show, or the Strip. There was a line of ladies of a certain age, none under eighty, making love to a row of slots. Then there were the cool ones, dressed in leather and black silk. Sprinkled here and there were giddy first timers straight from Embarrass, Minnesota. Change girls teetered on high heels that would have given me a nosebleed. Cocktail servers balanced trays of drinks, offering cocktails as twenties stuck out of their Wonderbras. Still, there was nary any eye contact from anyone who might fit the depiction of Gramps’ Lady Love.
    My head twisted right and left until I spotted her. A few feet away there she stood with bright platinum blonde hair piled to a height that an air traffic controller would admire, wearing six-inch, cherry red stilettos. I could have picked her out a mile away; besides, she made eye contact. I screamed, “Gramps, get your eyes checked. She’s forty if she’s a day.” He didn’t hear because a Slot Momma hit the jackpot and started screaming way louder than I did when I found the lizard in my car.
    Gramps’ bride-to-be was dressed bosom to bloomer in latex leopard fabric, but it was the bosom that got my attention. The knit stretched across breasts the size of watermelons. If she’d toppled, the silicone would’ve bounced her back up. Diamonds flashed on her wrists, and a studded dog collar dripped with gold hearts. Her earrings dribbled down her husky neck.
    Gramps’ lady friend switched from one foot to another. Killer shoes had to be the reason. Or maybe she was waiting for me to speak up, or for Gramps to usher us across the three-foot span of carpet that separated the happy couple and my first introduction to my step-grandmother.
    I blinked, and suddenly my eyes focused.