“What are you going to do?” Lacey asked.

“Call my lawyer?” The manila envelope had held a subpoena for paternity testing. Paternity testing. The words still made him flinch.

After sixteen years, Angela wanted to prove her child was Charlie’s. Charlie didn’t need to ask, “Why now?” He knew. Charlie had been a nobody when he and Angela had been fooling around. A nobody with no connections and no future. Apparently, winning a handful of national poker tourneys made him a somebody in Angela’s eyes, and now—like everybody else he’d ever shared a meal with—she wanted a piece of his checking account. Would she have bothered if she’d known that checking account was rapidly dwindling, right alongside Charlie’s future in professional poker?

“I don’t really see what other options I have.”

Lacey swatted his hand, making his beer slosh out of his glass. “Don’t be a jerk, Charlie.”

He slid his sunglasses down his nose and narrowed his eyes at her. “Excuse me?”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Just because Angela wants to pull out the big guns doesn’t mean you have to. What about the kid? What does he think about all this?”

“Hell if I know. Angela wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information.”

Lacey nodded. “Yeah, I remember her from high school. I never did know what you saw in her.”

Charlie chuckled. “Long legs and sexual aptitude.”

“Jesus. Real mature.”

He lifted his hands. “What do you want? I was sixteen years old. I hadn’t developed the depth of character I have today.”

She snorted. “Speaking of your ‘depth,’ I saw what you bought my roommate. That was about as subtle as skywriting, Smooth. I suppose just asking her to dinner hadn’t occurred to you?”

Charlie’s lip twitched. “That stuff’s for amateurs. I have skills that are much more effective than that old fashioned crap.”

Lacey didn’t look convinced. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, giving him a visual once-over. “Well, the outfit’s hot, I’ll give you that, but she still went out with her boy Chaz right after she got home, so I wouldn’t be so sure of your ‘skills.’”

“Yeah, she mentioned him. What’s his story, anyway?”

“He’s her daddy’s Golden Boy. Like Riley, he assists Carter with running the hotels, but mostly he manages the string of sleazy clubs Carter owns.”

Charlie raised a brow. “I heard the Black Diamond clubs were some of the classier in town.”

Lacey snorted. “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a strip club.”

“So, this guy, he has Daddy’s approval. How serious are they?”

“They’re not engaged yet, but Riley’s been seeing him for a couple years now. Personally, I think the only reason he hasn’t popped the question is that he wants to f**k around, and that will be more difficult with a ring on his finger. Sooner or later, though, he’s gonna ask. He’s a lot less interested in Riley than he is in her trust fund.”

Charlie shook his head. “I don’t trust any man who doesn’t like lingerie.”

Lacey was silent for a beat, her attention on Tall, Dark, and Handsome at the bar. “So, what are you going to do?”

“It’s too early to show my hand, but I’ll pay to see the flop.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “In English, please?”

“Riley’s cute, and if this guy hasn’t made things official—especially if he’s screwing around—”

“I don’t know that for a fact.”

Charlie shrugged. Lacey wasn’t the type to indulge in idle gossip. If she suspected something, there was probably some truth to it—truth Charlie just might be able to bring to the surface. “I see no reason why I should back down,” he said.

It’d be different if Riley weren’t attracted to Charlie, but he knew that look she got in her eyes when he was around. He wasn’t sure what kind of hand Chaz was holding, but if Riley’s eyes on his body were any indication, Charlie was the one with pocket aces.

“Interesting. What about the kid?”

Shit. He didn’t know.

A sour taste filled his mouth. He wouldn’t let the kid be used as a pawn in some scheme. “I have money.” Some. For now. “If I’m really the kid’s father, she can have it.”

Lacey leaned forward and glared at him. “Aren’t you missing a possibility here?”

He frowned. “What’s that?”

“You could be more than a sperm donor. You could be the boy’s dad.”

***

“I had a fantastic time tonight,” Chaz said, brushing a lock of hair from Riley’s face.

She leaned against the stairwell wall outside her apartment, and his dark eyes met hers. Nice eyes—warm and comforting. But her mind drifted to a different set of eyes. Icy blue and dangerous eyes.

“It was nice,” she murmured.

Stop thinking about Charlie! Maybe she was thinking about him because they had the same name: Charles. Charles Singleton and Charles Spencer—if her brain linked them, that was perfectly understandable, nothing to feel guilty about.

Chaz also looked a little like Charlie. They were both tall with dark hair and nice builds. She smiled at Chaz and gave him an appraising look. His body was good. It was...fine. But he looked about as much like Charlie as a veggie burger looked like the real, juicy thing. Sure, there were similarities, and at a quick glance one could be mistaken for the other. But the truth was, each promised an entirely different kind of experience.

“You keep looking at me like that and I won’t make it home tonight,” Chaz said with a smile.

“I’m just thinking about how much I enjoy being with you.”

He leaned in for a kiss and she tilted her chin up and opened her mouth to him.

She wished his hint that he might stay over stirred something more in her. The truth was, Chaz wasn’t a very exciting lover. He was practical and didn’t stray off course. He was...efficient.

Charlie Singleton might make a girl wonder what he would do with his mouth, but this was Chaz. Chaz was kind. Honest. The kind of man you could be proud of. The kind of man you marry and want to father your children. He was successful and stable and . . .

He put his thumb under her chin and slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting of mineral water and juicy fruit, and Riley thought, He’s lower in cholesterol.

She giggled against his lips.

Chaz pulled away and frowned. “Something wrong?”

She bit her lip, trying to stop the laughter bubbling there, but it just kept spilling out. “My mind is somewhere else.”

“Well, then.”

Crap, now he was scowling. She was pretty sure making her date scowl at the door was not the way to add the spice she was looking for.

“Listen, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, but neither his tense shoulders nor his telling glance at his watch had her convinced.

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry. Why don’t you come in?” She opened the door but was too embarrassed to take her eyes off the floor.

Chaz cleared his throat. “Um, Riley?”

“What?” She followed his gaze to the couch . . . where her new leather bustier was nicely displayed. “Oh, my God!” Her hand flew to her mouth. She had totally forgotten she’d left it there! What would Chaz think?

Behind her, he made an umphing sound she wasn’t sure was good or bad. “Is that your roommate’s?” he asked. “Of course it is. You wouldn’t waste money on something so frivolous.”

“Um.” She spun around to face him. She had to think fast—but he was looking at his watch.

He smiled but it was forced. “Listen, I should go. I have an early meeting tomorrow. I’ll send you a text though, okay?”

It was Riley’s turn to force a smile. “Right. Okay, that’d be nice.”

Chaz pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

And as she walked him out, she couldn’t help but think I bet Charlie Singleton didn’t end a date with his girlfriend with a kiss against her cheek.

Chapter Three

Charlie studied the faces of the players around him. These were amateurs, cocky sons a’ bitches who thought they could plop down at a Vegas poker table and take home a load of crisp new bills. Charlie wasn’t interested in their money and carefully planned his strategy so he would win some, lose some, and walk away even-steven. He just needed some time with the game to stay loose for the tournament.

Located in a VIP private box, their game overlooked the stage where the illustrious Black Diamond dancers performed. The guy across from him signaled for another beer, and Charlie rolled his eyes. Too much alcohol could destroy the game of even the most experienced player, and yet when guys like this one wanted to “act like a pro,” they drank too much and generally loosed up on all their good sense. Then again, people didn’t come to the Black Diamond to practice self-restraint.

Charlie was lucky. Since he was fifteen, he’d had a talent for the game matched only by his passion for it. His and Lacey’s dad had never been around, but a neighbor in the subsidized housing where he grew up had taught Charlie everything he knew about the game. He’d taught him how to deal. How to bluff. How to use deductive thinking to get a pretty good guess at what the other players were holding. But most importantly, Walter had taught him how to have fun without losing everything.

Charlie could still remember when Walter had first brought him into the casinos. Charlie had been fifteen—too young to cross the red ropes, but old enough to understand what Walter had been talking about when he spotted the hungry greed in people’s eyes. The message had gone through loud and clear, and Charlie had never gambled a penny he wouldn’t be happy to lose.

Did Angela’s son—the paperwork named him Tony—have a Walter in his life? Someone to teach him right from wrong? A man who taught him what it meant to be a man? Charlie hoped so, but if Angela was looking to him for that, she was setting herself up for disappointment.

A high school dropout and a man the media made out to be a womanizer, Charlie would be a pathetic excuse for a role model. Hell, he’d managed to make a nice career for himself through the less-than-respectable path of professional poker, but even that was fading.

Charlie turned at a tap on his shoulder. A svelte blonde smiled down at him. “This seat taken?”

“Not that I know of.”

She sat and scooted her chair toward Charlie so the outside of their legs touched. “You don’t mind me taking your money, do you?”

“It’s a personal code of mine to only lose to the most beautiful women,” Charlie admitted.

“So, you come here a lot?” she asked. She chomped a piece of gum and winked at the dealer as he passed out their cards.

Charlie tossed a glance to the stage where two exotic dancers did a little bump and grind against each other. “No,” he admitted. “This is my first time.”

“The Black Diamond isn’t just a strip club, ya know.”

Charlie raised a brow.

“It’s some of the best damn poker in Vegas. These guys—” she gestured to the men around the table “—some of the best amateurs around.”

“Hear! Hear!” a man barked from the other side of the table.

“So you’re a regular?”

The smile dropped from the woman’s face. The man next to her tipped his cowboy hat to cover his features but it didn’t cover his chuckle.

“Do you know the guy who runs this place?” Charlie asked her.

Another chuckle from the cowboy. Charlie spared him a glance but returned his attention to the woman.

“You could say that.” She turned her attention to her cards, indicating the conversation was over.

“When could I find him here do you think?”

“Why? Spencer owe you money?” the cowboy asked.

“Not exactly,” Charlie said cautiously.

“He sleep with your girlfriend?” the guy across the table offered.

Charlie lowered his voice so only the blonde could hear. “Sounds like he doesn’t have the best reputation,” he murmured.

“Don’t believe everything these hacks tell you,” she said softly.

Charlie nodded, understanding when to push and when to pull back. It was a skill that came from years of razzing guys at the poker table.

Charlie finished the hand, then folded the next early. He slipped a few chips to the dealer before standing. He’d only just turned away when the blonde grabbed him.

Charlie dropped his gaze to where her long, manicured fingers had shackled his wrist. Her bare arms were thin and bronzed. He knew her type—looking for a sugar Daddy at a poker table. He didn’t have the heart to tell her she was going about it all wrong. The men here didn’t want to take care of her. They wanted to screw her and go home. There was a time he would have wanted to as well. “Can I help you?” he asked.

She dropped her chin and looked up at him so she was looking through her lashes. “I know who you are,” she whispered. “You were pulling your punches with this bunch, weren’t you?”

“That’s a flattering assumption.” He gave her the signature Charlie ‘The Devil’ Singleton smile. He could take her back to his suite, but why bother? She’d just want him to play the part of the womanizing bad boy when he’d much rather be himself. The idea of how the night would play out bored him, had him as weary as a dull, thudding headache. “Good night.”