Affair Of Risk

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Authors: Jayne Castle
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flight back from Lake Tahoe. Besides, there was no reason to think Case Garrett would have any particular desire to follow her. He'd gotten what he'd wanted. In his world, such brief encounters were commonplace. She had represented an amusing interlude that had temporarily intrigued him.
    The litany was the same one that had been going through her head since she'd awakened that morning in the huge white bed and found him asleep on the pillow beside her. The black velvet of his lashes replaced the missing eyepatch, concealing the empty ruin of his left eye. The darkness of his thick, tousled hair against the white pillow had been almost heart-wrenchingly attractive to her.
    He lay with the crisp whiteness of the sheet pulled only to his waist, and the bronzed skin of his chest and shoulders made her wonder how a gambler, a man of the night, ever got such a natural tan. Sunlamps, probably, she'd told herself with sudden disgust.
    Without allowing herself further thought, she'd slipped from the bed, forcing her mind to concentrate on nothing
    but escape. He stirred briefly as she slid, naked, off the bed, but he didn't awaken.
    Kendra wasted no time. Grabbing her suitcase, she'd hurried into the tropical living room. She'd pulled on her tweed skirt, copper-colored blouse, and her blazer. Snatching up her purse and coat, she'd let herself out the door, suitcase in one hand.
    Unlike the other, larger casinos, Garrett's was not open twenty-four hours a day. In the light of dawn she found it empty. The felt-covered tables stood silent, and the roulette wheel looked like a toy instead of the dangerous menace it could become. Wolf had been nowhere in sight.
    She'd found a cab to the airport, caught an earlier flight than she'd originally scheduled, and had landed in San Francisco in the rain.
    Never had the lush, yellow-gold and white interior of her home looked so welcoming. Kendra shut the door behind her and crossed the Oriental rug, which created an effective foil for the almost-French-style furnishings of the living room.
    A great deal of her profits from the employment agency in which she was a partner had gone into creating the luxurious, romantic surroundings. Twin banquettes, their white covers edged in gold fringe, framed the sweeping bay window. Gold pillows were artfully strewn on each. An ornate gilt mirror and a lacquered Queen Anne secretary added opulence to the room. French-style chairs and an elegant inlaid tea table provided another sumptuous touch.
    The French theme spilled over into the dining room, with its oval table beneath a small, delicate crystal chandelier. The bedroom had been done to create a charming study in addition to a sleeping area. A graceful lacquered desk and several bookcases occupied a portion of the room. Another large Oriental carpet extended from the
    sitting area into the section occupied by the wide, low bed. Across the bed was a rich fur throw.
    As with her clothes, Kendra indulged herself in her home. She made no apology for either. It pleased her, and she had no one else in the world to worry about pleasing except herself.
    The phone rang an hour later as she emerged from a hot, reviving shower.
    "You're back! Thank God! Tell me what happened, Kendra. Did he accept the check? Did he say anything about—about me?" Her cousin's anxious voice came over the line, conveying a picture of the delicate, small-boned creature on the other end.
    At twenty-six, Donna Radburn was a beautiful woman. Small, graceful, with a lovely profile, she was blessed with luminous green eyes, jet-black hair, which fell in a heavy curve to her shoulders, and a creamy complexion. She had an instinctive way of handling men that Kendra, in her younger years, would have dearly loved to imitate. There was a helpless, feminine quality about Donna that seemed to draw forth the protective instincts in most men. For a while it had seemed as if Austin Radburn had succumbed to the spell, too.
    "He took the check, Donna,"

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