Certified Male by Kristin Hardy Page A

Always ready to help themaiden in distress. She wasn’t his to save, though she might just need saving.
    He watched her flinch again at the hustler’s touch and consciously loosened his jaw. It wasn’t his problem. Then again, he’d come downstairs for some poker practice. Why not be congenial, play at a table where he knew someone?
    And he walked over.
    Â 
    F RED AND HIS WIFE were long gone. Mutt had taken a look at his dwindling supply of chips and decided to call it a night. Jeff had followed, leaving the table to Jerry and Gwen.
    â€œWant to move to another table?” the dealer asked.
    â€œNo, this is perfect,” Gwen told him, admiring her own stack of chips.
    â€œLooks like it’s down to you and me,” Jerry said, leaning toward her.
    Just what she’d been hoping for.
    â€œNot exactly,” said a voice over Gwen’s shoulder, and Del Redmond sat down beside her. “Evening.” He handed a pair of hundred-dollar bills to the dealer.
    â€œYou want a bigger game, pal.” Jerry threw him a look of sulky dislike.
    â€œThis one suits me fine,” he said pleasantly and reached out for his chips.
    The waitress came by to take a drink order from Jerry. Gwen took a swallow of her martini and leaned toward Del. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.
    He gave her a bland smile. “Just getting in a practice game before the tournament starts.” He leaned forward to look across her. “You playing in the tournament?” he asked Jerry.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œMe, too. Del Redmond.” He reached out to shake hands.
    â€œJerry Messner.”
    â€œI’m doing a story for the San Francisco Globe on the experience. Maybe I can interview you later.”
    The dealer cleared his throat. “The game, gentlemen?”
    This time the chemistry was totally different. There were no amateurs at the table, and Hold ’em was a game designed to encourage big bets. Del took a stack of chips between the fingers of one hand, splitting it into two stacks and riffling them together like cards. She remembered how those hands had felt on her body, the way they’d made her feel.
    And wasn’t that just the last thing she needed to be thinking about? Pay attention to the game, she scolded herself. Nina wouldn’t let it get to her. Nina would put it in a box and set it aside. Nina wouldn’t be so blown away by chemistry because Nina would be used to it. Nina would be in control.
    Gwen only hoped she could be.
    This hand, Jerry was the small blind. Gwen tossed out her bet for the big blind and turned to see Del watching her with that look that said he knew a joke and she and Jerry were the punch line.
    She wondered if he was as good at Hold ’em as he was at everything else.
    Her pocket held a ten and a king, both clubs. Potential for a straight or a flush, but not one she was going to bank on unless the flop turned up something. Then again, attacking might throw both men off balance. Jerry bet twenty dollars in chips. She raised him twenty. Del merely lifted an eyebrow and kept up.
    Then the dealer turned over the flop to reveal a three of clubs and a ten and a five of spades. The pair of tens gave her something, but she was going to put her faith in the turn card and the river card. In the meantime bluff, she figured and did what she usually did when she had a good hand.
    â€œNow, don’t you go doing that again, babe,” Jerry toldher at her frown, tossing down a pair of ten-dollar chips. “Last time you did that, you were sitting on a pair of ladies.”
    She raised him. “You figure I got something sweet?”
    â€œI don’t,” Del said. “I think you’re bluffing.”
    Now she did frown for real. Trust him to read not only her face but her body language, whatever part of her that was telling the truth. Her leg, she realized. It was bobbing, and he could see it out of the corner of his eye.