Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) (51 page)

He stands before her and she studies him. It only takes an instant to see the truth as plain as day.

He’s not lying
.

“I have to go,” she whispers. Her pulse has started to race because there are no more barriers. No more reasons to run. The voice that usually tells her when it’s time to leave is silent.

“You’re always on to the next one, aren’t you? Just like your tattoo, just like that song.”

Her breath shakes. “I have to get back.”

He nods. “I understand your panic. I’ve been there myself.” His eyes are sympathetic. “Ask yourself something, though. Is this the life you really want? Always running from love?”

Lindsay’s game has turned to shit.

She keeps waiting for her usual poker calm to come over her, but it’s not happening.

She’s sitting at the final table with her mineral water and her stack of chips, all the familiar pieces in place.

Except she’s losing badly. Making one foolish move after another. Playing loose and reckless, trying to steal the blind or bluffing with rags when she should be folding. She might even have gotten away with this kind of nonsense if it were a different set of players who didn’t know any better.

But not this group. They see every mistake.

“Are you all right?” Dr. Bill even asks her at one point.

“Sure, no problem.”

Kimmy has been eyeing her with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity.

Lindsay takes a deep breath and lets it out. She tries to get her head back in the game, tries to stop her heart from spinning out of control.

I’m not running away from anything
.

Giovanni is wrong. What the hell does he know anyway?

How dare he throw that song at her. That fucking song which has been plaguing her for years.

And there’s nothing wrong with the way I drive. I drive great. Perfect even, motherfucker
.

Two more players are knocked out during the next hand, and things grow intense. Despite all her mistakes and shrinking stack of chips, Lindsay’s still in the game.

Time to quit screwing around
.

The cards are dealt and, with annoyance, she catches herself chewing on her bottom lip as she studies her hole cards, both of them diamonds.

What in the hell am I doing?

The flop brings two more diamonds and Lindsay smiles. Well, what do you know?
Hallelujah, it’s raining diamonds
. One more is all she needs to make a flush.

She notices everybody around her raising, but to be honest, she hasn’t been paying much attention. She needs to start thinking about this game, but all she can think about is Giovanni. Their conversation plays itself over again in her mind.

The part where he said he loved her
.
And then the part where he said he was leaving.

Dr. Bill raises the maximum bet and Lindsay calls, figuring why the fuck not? The odds of hitting her flush on the turn are only about one in five. She knows her game is off, and her stack of chips is dwindling, but if she hits her flush, it’s all good.

The turn brings a king and it’s not a diamond. A black card. A spade.

She frowns.
Dammit
.

The other players are all hovering like vultures, waiting for the kill. She can feel them closing in, searching for any weakness. You can’t let emotions get involved in a poker game.

For some reason, she remembers Cockroach Breath from Berlin. The way he lost it all, a grown man playing on tilt because of love.

Lindsay snorts to herself.
As if I’d ever do that
.

But her throat goes tight when she remembers what Cockroach Breath said.

Love is everything.

It was an odd sentiment coming from a guy like that.

When she thinks about Giovanni leaving, her heart aches. Has she ever loved anyone this much? The voice that usually whispers in her ear is back. Only this time, it’s saying something different.

Are you really going to let him go?

Dr. Bill is raising the maximum again and Lindsay decides to go all in. There’s nothing left for her anyway. It’s hard to believe, but that’s what it’s come to. If she doesn’t hit her flush on the river, she’s down to the felt. Busted.

And that’s when a queer realization comes over her. She glances around the table at the other players. They’re all looking at her with knowing eyes like she’s an easy mark.
What the hell?
She blinks a few times and then it finally dawns on her.

I’ve been playing on tilt this whole time!

She sucks in her breath.
I’ve lost everything
.

More than a game of poker. Because suddenly she sees it all as clear as the meaning of that horrible song, how she’s been on tilt much longer than a single card game. She’s been living her life that way.

And it’s been obvious to everyone except me
.

She shakes her head with amazement.

It turns out Cockroach Breath was right.

Love
is
everything.

She waits for the river, the final card. And when it’s played, Lindsay starts to laugh because she’s ruined, taken down by none other than . . . the Queen of Hearts.

Giovanni knows he should buy a winter coat soon. He hasn’t owned one in years, but it’s fall now and cooling down enough to where it’s become obvious he needs one.

Not that I’ll be needing one for long
.

It’s night, but he’s sitting outside in the backyard, staring at his fruit trees. They’re doing well, and after removing the deadwood a while ago, he’s pleased to see they’ve grown some new foliage. The trellis he built is still there against the back fence.

Maybe the next owner of this house will make use of it
.

He came back from the fundraiser tonight and changed out of his suit, figuring it was time to start work on that resignation letter to the hospital.

Instead, he’s been sitting out here in the cold staring at his trees.

They won’t be mine much longer
.

The house hasn’t sold yet, but there’s plenty of interest. Two couples have already made offers. He should be glad. Soon, this will all be behind him, and he’ll be back overseas again, living like a vagabond.

Maybe that’s the life I’m meant for
.

He hasn’t decided where yet. Not Africa though. Possibly Southeast Asia, or maybe South America. Everybody needs doctors.

It was difficult seeing Lindsay tonight, though it’s been more difficult not seeing her. She’s left a gap in his heart that’s impossible to fill. After all these years, he’s finally learned what it’s like to honestly fall in love—not the manipulation he experienced when he was younger, but the real thing. A part of him was still hoping he could change her mind, get her to see what she’s giving up.

As he’s thinking all this, he notices movement from the corner of his eye. He turns his head and sees it again. There’s someone inside his living room.

Giovanni goes still, certain he locked the front door.

He unfolds himself from the chair and starts making his way cautiously toward the house. Unfortunately, he left his phone inside.

Suddenly, he sees someone near the French doors, but the lighting is dim and he can’t tell who it is. One of the doors opens. His eyes widen when he hears music coming from the house. It takes him a moment to realize what it is, but when he recognizes the song, his heart hammers.

Elvis Presley’s “Burning Love.”

Lindsay steps outside. When she sees him, she stops, her hand on the door handle.

Giovanni stops walking too.

Neither of them makes a move. They just stare at each other from across the lawn.

His heart still pounds, unsure what to make of her presence here.

He opens his mouth to speak. But in an instant, it all changes because Lindsay is suddenly running toward him, running in her flapper dress and high heels. Before he knows it, she’s thrown herself into his arms.

Relief floods his veins, so powerful it makes his head swim, rocks him to his core because he finally understands.

She’s come back to me
.

He can barely believe it.

Their mouths are on each other, kissing crazily. It feels like a million years, and it feels like one long day. The longest day of his life.

He picks her up and carries her back to the house, holding her tight, not wanting to let go.

“I thought I knew what I was doing . . .” The words tumble out of her mouth. “But I was wrong . . . I was wrong about so many things.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Inside the house, the music still plays. Their song. He takes her to their bedroom downstairs, the one he still sleeps in. Her fox still on his nightstand.

He lays her on the bed and she pulls him down on top of her.

“Touch me,” she pleads. “I want to feel your hands on me everywhere.”

He slips his fingers beneath her flapper dress to her soft skin and discovers stockings with garters. “Damn,” he groans with approval. “You’re keeping these on.”

She smiles up at him. “I knew you’d like them, Olaf.”

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he says, his voice hoarse with honesty. “I don’t know if I could survive it.”

Her eyes go soft as she reaches up and strokes his jaw. “I won’t, I promise. This time, it’s forever.”