A Bookie's Odds Read Online Free PDF Page B

man’s woman…at least, not while her man was in the same building.
    Nicholas drove to Gracie’s, the club named after his mother. It was the only business owned by his father that did not have a game room in the basement or back. He kept all questionable practices away from the club out of respect for the woman it was named after.
    His father had hoped Nicholas would eventually take over running the club. He, however, had decided he preferred a career in “finance” and dreamed of one day taking over the other businesses from the older man.
    Nicholas pulled up in front of the club. After helping Georgia out of the car, he tossed his keys to the valet, who understood the consequences of not returning the vehicle in the same condition it was given to him. He then escorted her past the line of people waiting to get inside.
    By the time they reached the entrance, the door was being held open for them. An older, colored man wearing a black tuxedo greeted them as they stepped into the building.
    “Everything looks wonderful, Al.” Nicholas shook the man’s hand.
    “When have you ever seen it look otherwise?”
    On his watch? Never. Alton McRae had been with the club since it opened, working his way up from busboy to maître d’. In his hands, Gracie’s flourished, turning a nice profit for Nicholas’s father.
    “I thought so.” Alton slapped Nicholas’s arm. He then kissed Georgia’s cheek. “Go enjoy yourself. And, keep him out of trouble.”
    Georgia laughed. “You’re asking for the impossible.”
    “Come on.” With a hand on her lower back, Nicholas maneuvered Georgia through the clusters of partygoers. They briefly greeted a few acquaintances with promises of longer conversations after they paid their respects to the lady of honor.
    At the front of the club, they climbed the steps to the dais to the right of the stage. Sophie Santiano watched the band playing the popular songs, her dark tresses (well maintained with the help of her hairdresser) bobbing gently in time to the music. The cane that usually swung from her hand—but never touched the ground when she walked—leaned against her chair.
    “ Mi carina , I’m glad you could make it.” Sophie held up her hands.
    Georgia leaned forward and embraced the older woman. “You know I couldn’t miss your birthday, Nonna.” Georgia reached back and took the box from Nicholas. “This is for you.”
    “Is it the shawl I was admiring in the catalog last month?”
    “You’ll have to open and see.”
    “Open it, nothing. I already know.” Sophie turned to the white-haired woman to her right. “This young lady can look at a design and then crochet it without a pattern. Such talent.” She glanced back up at Georgia. “So when are you going to stop hanging around that bum and settle down with a decent man?”
    “Nonna, I’m standing right here,” Nicholas grumbled. “At least wait until I’m outta earshot before talking about me.”
    “I don’t believe in talking about people behind their backs. I believe in calling you a bum to your face.”
    “Feisty.” Nicholas leaned forward and kissed the woman’s cheek. “That’s what I like about you.”
    “Flattery will get you nowhere.” She waved her hand toward the dance floor. “Go on and get. I’ll speak to you later.”
    “Nicholas, I want to go to the powder room,” Georgia said as they stepped off the dais.
    “Why? You look fine.”
    “I want to make sure.” She fussed with a curl. “You did have the top down.”
    “And you can trust me…” His gaze moved down her body again. “There ain’t a strand out of place.”
    ****
    Georgia rolled her eyes.
    How would he know if there was a strand out of place? He had barely been able to keep his eyes above her neck since he arrived at her apartment.
    If it had been any other man, she would have closed the door in his face and called her father to make sure the offender left the building. However, she knew Nicholas was teasing her and