Nan Ryan Read Online Free PDF

sight.”
    Johnny’s careless statement thrilled and pleased the smitten Nevada. She never wanted to be out of his sight, nor to have him out of hers. So she didn’t question him when, telling the croupier to collect his winnings and hold them, Johnny turned her away from the table and, guiding her across the crowded hall, said from over her head, “Let’s order us some French champagne and oysters and get better acquainted.”
    She wanted nothing more than to get better acquainted with this dark, compelling man. And she suddenly realized she was quite hungry. She’d had nothing to eat since boarding the Gambler .
    In minutes Nevada found herself on the upstairs balcony, preceding Johnny through one of the heavy carved mahogany doors. Inside, she gasped at the opulence that greeted her. She stood in a stateroom where a sparkling chandelier cast honeyed light on a sofa and chairs upholstered in plush navy velvet and a deep carpet of the same hue. The walls were covered with a shimmering beige silk and one entire side was accordion doors that were open and folded back to allow a spectacular view of the lights along the river.
    In the center of the room a round table, draped in beige damask, was set for two. The fragile china and heavy sterling and sparkling crystal were finer than anything Nevada had ever seen. A heavy carved silver candelabra graced the table’s center along with freshly cut white roses.
    After knocking on the door, a white-coated steward entered bearing champagne in a silver ice bucket, and by the time Nevada was seated across from Johnny at the table, the waiter had returned with dishes of steaming bouillabaisse, a heaping platter of oysters and shrimp, a basket of hot breads, and an assortment of cooked vegetables and fresh fruits.
    “Johnny,” said Nevada, looking up at the smiling man who was watching her from across the table, “there’s so much food! How will we ever eat it all?”
    He gave her a slow, lazy grin and his black eyes took on an appealingly drowsy expression. “Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice deep and low, “we can always finish it at breakfast.” His sleepy-eyed look disappeared and his black eyes gleamed devilishly, but Nevada missed his meaning.
    Deftly, Johnny popped the champagne cork and poured. Handing Nevada a glass, he stopped her when she started to drink. “Hold on, sweetheart. I want to propose a toast to you.” He raised his glass and said, “To my beautiful Lady Luck.” He touched her glass with his and they drank, Johnny downing his quickly, Nevada sipping hers cautiously.
    Watching the tiny dark-haired beauty behave as though she’d never before tasted champagne, Johnny was quietly amused. Apparently she’d chosen, this evening, to play the role of the innocent. Perhaps she thought that’s what he found appealing. And still in a warm haze of bourbon, he did find the mixture of make-believe innocence and blatant voluptuousness to be powerfully seductive. Remarkably there was a freshness about this painted miniature doll that seemed almost genuine.
    But smilingly watching her sip the bubbly wine as if for the first time, Johnny was glad her seeming vulnerability, her air of chastity, was nothing more than a well-acted role. What the hell, he’d be glad to play along, treat her as though she were a refined young lady allowing her only lover to take her to bed. There was no denying she was a tempting sensual beauty and he had no objection to taking his time. They had the entire night. He would go along with her little game.
    It suited him just fine.
    Rising, Johnny asked Nevada’s permission to remove his jacket. Smiling happily, she said, “Certainly, Johnny.” She watched, fascinated, while he shrugged out of it, drawing her attention once again to the impressive width of his shoulders and chest. When he tugged at his black silk tie, slid it from under the stiff white collar, and tossed it atop a navy velvet chair, she simply sighed and took another