Seduction on the Cards by Kris Pearson Read Free Book Online

because he was forever doing something interesting and exciting.
    “You enjoy being a father?” she asked wistfully.
    “You have children?”
    “No, not for years yet.”
    “You cannot imagine, until you have your own, how precious they become. So tiny and vulnerable to begin with. And then with personalities that blossom like flowers.” 
    “I loved my Dad. He was really special.” 
    “I’m sure you were his much-loved treasure.”
    “His much-loved nuisance , perhaps?” she suggested with a grin, sipping the yeasty wine again. “I adored spending time with him. He used to call me his lucky charm. He taught me how to fill in the Jet-bet forms when the race meetings were on. He’d tell me which horses he favored and I’d mark the squares in for him.”
    “So young?” Alex demanded, a dark frown creasing his brow.
    Kerri shrugged. “Just his bit of fun. Nothing serious. A few dollars.”
    He sent her a fulminating glare.
    The horse-races had always thrilled her. The greyhounds, too. 
    “I liked the poker games the best,” she said to Gaston. “All these years later I still have lovely memories of sitting on his knee, watching the cards in his hand when he was playing with friends.” She bit her lip, remembering the cigarette smoke wreathing up around the small group of men...the glasses of beer she’d been very occasionally allowed to sip...the air of suppressed excitement. “I always tried to keep a straight face the way he’d taught me but I bet I was hopeless. He probably lost heaps of games because of me.”
    Gaston set a bunch of green herbs down on his chopping board, took up a vicious-looking knife, and began to shred them with a speed that made Kerri fear for his fingers. “But think how special it would have been for him—a living lucky charm, right there on his knee.”
    “A living lucky charm who wriggled and squeaked and gave the game away all the time, I expect.”  She breathed in the sharp herb fragrance.
    Gaston smiled as he peered into his saucepan again. He lifted it off the heat and swirled the contents around carefully. The sweet aroma of warm sugar reached Kerri’s nose.  
    “You still play” Alex asked, turning toward her.
    “Sometimes. Only for ten cent pieces, so you can get that disapproving look off your face.” 
    She turned back to Gaston and watched as he inspected something delicious-smelling in the oven.  
    “And I was allowed to help him scrape the top layer off the ‘scratchies’ in the hope we’d find a big win lurking underneath. Do you do that with your daughters?”
    Gaston shook his head. “Camille is not yet five.”
    “She’d be better putting the money in her piggy bank,” Alex muttered.
    “Don’t be such a spoil-sport! I still get a little tingle of excitement from it. Every time I buy a Lotto ticket or an Instant Kiwi card I think of my dad,” she added.
    She could still picture him on that last morning—smiling and carefree—poor dead Daddy who’d tempted fate one too many times and lost his life because of it.
    She tried to shake the memory away. “Can I ask you questions while you cook, Gaston? Alex said I could interview you both for possible articles in the paper.”
    Gaston peered down once more at the sugar he was caramelizing for the crème caramels.
    “Maybe we should tell you about each other?” he suggested. “That might be interesting—no?” 
    Alexandre raised both hands in protest. “Way too interesting. Tell only the truth, and I’ll tell only the truth in return,” he warned.
    Gaston clicked his tongue, and turned away to pour the golden sugar-sauce into three small dishes. He swirled it carefully to coat the sides. Then he started breaking eggs into a copper bowl.
    And for the next two hours Kerri listened, and probed, and laughed, and ate food that was out of this world. As the two men talked, she relaxed until it seemed she was enjoying a pleasant social evening instead of conducting a starchy business