Certified Male by Kristin Hardy Page B

“Big talk,” she said aloud, consciously trying to relax.
    Tonight Del wore black jeans and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The little things impinged on her consciousness: the clean scent of him, the way his jaw was just a bit dark with the day’s growth of beard, the look of his lean wrists as he reached down and tilted up the corner of his pocket pair for a look.
    She remembered how he’d looked with nothing on.
    â€œYour bet.”
    Gwen jumped and glanced to see Del grinning at her. Jerry had put down twenty on the flop. She doubled it. When Del raised on that, she nibbled the inside of her lip. The turn was a jack of clubs.
    When she had her chance, she raised, then raised again.
    The dealer turned over the river card to reveal a club. She could have kissed him. With a disgusted noise Jerry folded. It was down to Gwen and Del.
    â€œIt looks like you’re pretty good at Hold ’em,” he observed, nodding to her pile of chips and tossing down the ten-dollar minimum. “I didn’t expect to see you down here tonight.”
    Gwen immediately raised him twenty. “I figured I needed to get warmed up,” she told him.
    â€œI thought you were pretty hot already.” He called and looked at her.
    She paused for effect, checking her pocket cards and tapping her finger against them. It was worth seeing if she could draw him into another raise. She began bobbing her leg again.
    Del raised her. Gwen smiled and checked. She flipped her cards over. “Wall-to-wall clubs.” She gave him a challenging stare. “Don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”
    â€œOh, yeah, I do.” He turned up his pocket cards to show a full house.
    She uttered a sharp, pithy curse.
    He raised his eyebrows. “Pretty spicy language there.”
    â€œI don’t like being played.”
    â€œYou’d better go home now, then,” he told her.
    It reminded her of why she was there in the first place and she turned her attention back to Jerry as the dealer shuffled. “So, when’s your first round in the tournament?”
    â€œTomorrow.” He sounded petulant, out of sorts at being ignored.
    â€œWell, here’s to luck, then.” She raised her glass to his and licked her lips.
    â€œMaybe I’ll get lucky.”
    â€œMaybe you will.”
    Gwen played the next hand more conservatively. Her pile of chips was down after the big loss to Del and she needed to recharge. The flop turned the single king in her pocket into a pair, and the river made it a trio. Del, to her disgust, folded early, but she was able to lure Jerry into betting enough that she had a solid take when they finished the hand.
    â€œYou better leave me with some of my money, babydoll,” he complained, “or I won’t have any of it to spend on you.”
    â€œYou got plans to spend money on me?” She turned away from Del, deliberately ignoring him. It made her more conscious of him than ever. When Jerry reached out to brush his fingers through her hair, he caught her unawares and she jerked back just a bit.
    â€œTake you out for a drink after. They got that fancy revolving bar at the top of the hotel. How about if we play a few more hands, then go on up, have a nice time?”
    She gave him a warm smile of promise. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.”
    â€œThat sounds good,” Del said from behind her. “Why don’t you let me buy you two a drink? I can interview you both about the tournament.”
    She could have spit. He was nothing but trouble. He’d already figured out she wanted to get Jerry to herself and seemed hell-bent on sabotaging her. “Oh, I think three’s a crowd. He and I have plans to—”
    â€œCan I have a fake name?” Jerry cut in suddenly, as though not tracking the conversation too well. The tequila sunrises he’d been sucking down all night seemed to