Chapter 1

Jared Tyler was neither entirely awake nor entirely asleep when his phone rang.

He'd woken up just after two in the afternoon with a pain like someone had rammed their fist up through his sinuses and was now squeezing his brain. It was partially the result of having slept fourteen hours in a row after barely sleeping for three days straight. Knowing that he would get nothing accomplished, he'd taken a double dose of Advil, planning to turn on the TV and rest until the headache passed. But, the unrelentingly gray sky and the patter of rain on the street below had lulled him back into something like sleep, but broken by a string of vague and disquieting dreams. He'd finally woken for good a little while ago, but remained huddled under a blanket on his couch. The air conditioner, turned up high to battle the sticky, sickly humidity of mid-August the night before had kept cooling the room after the storm broke, drawing temperature and humidity down outside. The room had gotten as cold as a morgue.

He was up and off the couch, blanket wrapped around his shoulders before he'd fully registered that he was hearing the phone's generic ringtone. That meant it wasn't Karen, who swore she wouldn't call again. It wasn't Ed Herron from ADP calling to offer him the job that they both knew was his. Ed was on vacation this week and ADP's human resources department was glacially slow. Jared gave a mirthless chuckle. If he'd had the foresight or the motivation, he would have gone on vacation this week himself instead of hanging around the apartment, waiting for things to happen. But, he'd been hoping that Karen would give in and change her mind about him and come back to the apartment that had once been theirs, but was now his. It would not be a move entirely without precedent. Once they'd called the wedding off, it had taken her three months to move her possessions to her sister's apartment in Queens. Everywhere in the tiny room were the bloodless places where her things had been excised—negative spaces that had once held her books and her boots and her clothes in the closet. The first week after she moved out, she spent five nights in their bed. She'd come over for dinner on Friday night and not left until Sunday afternoon. That was the first time she told him that she needed a clean break and wouldn't be coming back. They'd had dinner the next Thursday and by Saturday, she was back in their bed.

In the weeks after that, her visits had become gradually less frequent and each time, she'd protested a little more about the sex, then about the easy intimacy, then about even coming back to the apartment. Soon, she was telling him that each time had definitely been the last. Jared thought he'd understood how the game worked. Then, the Sunday morning two weeks ago, when it had been cool enough to leave the bedroom windows open and a light summer breeze had wafted over their bare, sun-warmed skin, the rules had changed.

"This really has to be the last time," Karen had said, drawing her dress from the night before across the bedspread. To Jared's indulgent smile, she'd added, "I know I've said it before, but I mean it this time, Jared. I know what I have to do, but every time I get around you or even talk to you, I get... confused." She'd sat up, holding the dress over her breasts like a shield, as if she'd relegated Jared to the category of men who were no longer allowed to see them, "I need to stop coming over here. And, the only way I can do that is if I stop talking to you... even on the phone."

"Or," Jared had said, feeling oddly complimented. "You could bring some of your clothes back so you're not always running out of here in last night's dress."

And then Karen had shook her head and Jared had seen something in her eyes that made his heart sink and the words that came next sound like the hammering of nails into a barricade.

"I have a date tomorrow," she'd said, looking him right in the eyes. "It's with a teacher my sister works with. He seems like a really nice guy."

Jared had tried to argue, but Karen had refused. If he hadn't seen the end of things in her eyes, that would have told him everything he needed to know. For years, he and Karen had argued, rarely with even a hint of acrimony and often just because they enjoyed the rhythms of it, the give-and-take and the sense that, while it was exceedingly rare that either would change their mind, both understood their own position at the end of it. Normal couples might be able to sense that things had deteriorated because they started arguing. Jared heard the death of his relationship in the silence when they stopped. After she left that afternoon, Jared hadn't heard from her again. He'd called twice and left voicemail, getting no response. He hadn't tried a third time.

Now, his phone sat in a curiously empty space on his otherwise cluttered desk, a rectangle of emptiness outlined with an unidentifiable brown grime that delineated where Karen's computer had sat for four years from the day she moved in to the day she packed it into a moving truck. In that time, Jared had changed computers three times, but Karen's computing needs were slight, her dislike of change well-documented, and the machine always good enough.

He detached his phone from its umbilicus and hit the talk button just before it would have gone to voicemail. A quick glance at the incoming phone number as it went by hadn't brought recognition, but the area code wasn't one he immediately recognized.

"Jared speaking," he sat down in the second-hand office chair he'd put off replacing in anticipation of moving into a house with Karen and wrapped the blanket around himself more tightly. The chair squealed like a pending traffic accident as he turned to shut off the air conditioner, obscuring the first few words from the other end.

"... wake you?"

"No," said Jared automatically. "Well, sort of... but not really... Charlie?"

"How you been, man?" asked Charlie.

Jared found himself smiling, "About the same. Why aren't you using your cell phone? I almost let you go to voicemail."

"Long story," said Charlie. "I've got a business proposition for you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm... fine," said Jared, sliding his feet into his navy blue slippers to keep them off the floor. "What's the proposition?"

"I heard from Frank Avery that you're back on the market again... in more ways than one."

Jared rubbed his temples with his free hand, "And I heard just this minute that Frank Avery has a big mouth." He unscrewed the top of a half-empty bottle of Poland Spring from the night before and took a swig to clear his throat, "I would have told him to keep a lid on that information, but I don't remember telling him about Karen."

"So, it's true?"

Jared shook his head, "Half true. I'm pretty sure I've got a job with ADP once the project manager comes back from vacation."

"ADP?" asked Charlie. "The payroll guys? Don't they have that huge complex down in 609?"

Jared grinned to himself, wondering how many people referred to parts of the country by area code, "One and the same."

"You're going to commute all the way down there to work for those humps?" Charlie sounded doubtful. "That's got to be like two, two and a half hours each way."

"I wouldn't be commuting for long," said Jared. "Once I get the gig, I'll start looking for a house down there."

There was a long pause, then Charlie said, "I guess it's closer to Atlantic City anyway."

Jared chuckled. Once, that would have been a much bigger priority, "It's still like an hour away. I'd probably need a hotel room if I wanted to stay up and chase the smell of desperation."

"Don't tell me you're not playing poker anymore?" Charlie sound genuinely alarmed.

"Of course I am," said Jared. "That's pretty much all I've done for the last couple of weeks." For some reason, the next sentence came out sounding like an admission, "It's just been online."

"How's that working out for you?"

"You know how it goes." Jared stretched his back, trying to get rid of a minor crick from sleeping on the couch, "Every time I think I can do better playing poker, somebody offers me more money to program."

"You should come out to 702—do both."

Jared paused mid-stretch as he finally made sense of the area code, "You're in Vegas? What happened to Hawaii?"

"It's still there," deadpanned Charlie. "But, real estate turned out to be boring. I'm in the poker table business now. And that means going where the poker is."

"No shit?" Jared yawned involuntarily.

"No shit," said Charlie. "I've got a website mostly set up, too."

"Uh oh," said Jared, grinning to himself. "I think I just spotted the business proposition."

"Not really," said Charlie. "Although, I could use some help getting the site put together. It wouldn't take you more than a week, tops."

Jared laughed out loud, "Ah. And, what would be my compensation for flying out to Las Vegas and putting this site together for you?"

"I fly you out," said Charlie. Jared knew that Charlie had been born in California. But, he sometimes deliberately dropped into the broken English and faux Vietnamese accent he might speak in if he'd emigrated. Jared knew that the affectation was his way of warning you that he was pulling a fast one so you that could catch him at it. If you were Charlie's friend, he didn't want to get away with conning you, but he couldn't resist playing the angle anyway, "I got big house. Much nicer than last place. You stay free."

Jared shook his head, "I think you'd better tell me more about this charity you started out there."

"I not start charity. I..."

"Neither did I," interrupted Jared. "What's it pay?"

"Not what you're worth," admitted Charlie in his normal voice. "But, I mean it about the house. My cousin is lending it to me for as long as we need it. And, it's huge—six bedrooms, an enormous rec room I turned into an office, a huge, working kitchen. It was set up as a demo house..."

Jared lost the rest of the statement as he turned, wrenching a squeal of protest from the chair, and looked at his own kitchen—tiny oven, tiny stove, and a counter that wasn't big enough to hold a toaster and a coffee maker at the same time. Charlie had listened to him complain about the lack of anywhere to cook ever since he'd moved back to New York. Jared was pretty sure Charlie had mentioned the kitchen just to try to get him to accept a lowball offer. Worse, if Charlie had known that Jared was just now thinking how he needed a vacation in the worst possible way, he might have realized that he didn't need to mention the kitchen at all. Charlie's first offer of a place to stay in Vegas for a week had actually been kind of tempting. But, Charlie would have been disappointed in Jared if he'd taken the first offer. He'd always said that friendship didn't mean letting people screw you out of money.

"... and you can stay an extra week if you like. One week of work, one week of poker. What do you say?"

"I say 'What does it pay?'" repeated Jared, enjoying the dance that Charlie had taught him. "You know, most clients throw in room and board as a matter of course. And, I don't see how you and I need six bedrooms."

"It's not just you and me," said Charlie. "I've got two beautiful girls staying here."

Jared laughed at the transparent ploy, "I hope you're not planning on paying them more than you're paying me."

"Hey," Charlie's voice held mock severity. "Be nice. It's Victoria and Joy."

Jared knew that Victoria was Charlie's girlfriend, a lawyer he'd met in Hawaii. They'd been together a year, which beat Charlie's old record for relationship longevity by at least ten months. But, it took him a second to realize who the second woman was that Charlie had mentioned. The mental image that came with realization was so strong that Jared closed his eyes to block out the room around him. It wasn't an image of Joy herself, but of a pale yellow and white sun dress she'd worn one night, seemingly the thinnest layer of cotton possible between her skin and his as they'd danced and later, when she hugged him good night. Charlie couldn't know how much a mention of Joy would effect Jared today or he wouldn't have bothered mentioning the kitchen or the week in Vegas.

"Joy from TradeNet?" Jared was embarrassed to hear his voice rasp.

"That's the one," said Charlie and Jared caught a hint of smugness in his voice.

"When would you want me to come out?" asked Jared, suppressing a sigh. "Even if I left right now, I couldn't do two weeks. I'll probably have a job a week from today."

"So?" asked Charlie. "If they make you an offer on Monday, tell them you can start in a week. Once you take this gig and become a nine-to-fiver again, when are you going to be able to just take off and play poker for a week? This could be your last chance."

Jared sighed audibly, "All right. When do you want me to come out?"

"Today," said Charlie, sounding faintly impatient. "Now, if you could. Just get on a plane and come out."

Jared scowled at Charlie's exuberance, "I would have to pack at least."

"So, pack."

Jared rubbed his forehead, "I need to do laundry first."

"Bring dirty clothes. We've got a washer."

Jared scowled at Charlie, three quarters of a continent away, "I would have to break some plans with friends here." It wasn't exactly true, but it was close to true.

"Call them from the cab." Charlie laughed, "Just throw your things in a bag and come. We'll figure it all out once you get here."

Jared didn't say anything for a long time. There were so many reasons he shouldn't be going. But, he really wanted to. And, he hadn't wanted anything that he could have in what seemed like a very long time, even if it had only been a couple of weeks. Finally, he asked, "So, five thousand for the week?"

Charlie made an indignant sound, "Like I said, I can't even afford what you're worth. And, you're not worth tha much. The best I can do is two thousand plus air fare and two weeks room and board. That's not a negotiating point. That's really the best I can do."

By the time the Las Vegas strip appeared, gleaming on the horizon like the world's biggest rhinestone, Jared was already feel better. He and Charlie had talked for another hour after they'd agreed on a price for Jared's services. But, even as they'd talked, Jared had been making a list of everything he absolutely had to do before leaving and, by the time the phone call ended, he was already packing.

Eventually, Charlie had even gotten around to the business proposition he'd originally claimed to be calling about. It had brought up such a mix of emotions that, had Jared not already started packing, he might have balked at the whole trip. While it was a very exciting, potentially lucrative deal, it also tied into so many of the things that had gone wrong the last couple of years.

"You still have the source code for PokerBrain?" Charlie had asked.

"Of course," Jared had heard a snap in his voice he hadn't meant to take out on Charlie. But, he didn't have the discipline today to modulate it, "That's all I've got to show for nine months of work."

"Bring it with you," Charlie had answered good-naturedly. "I think I've got a buyer lined up."

Jared was already in the air before he realized that the web work was probably a screen for getting him out to Las Vegas for the bigger deal. And, he'd had to laugh. His Charlie-wrangling skills must be getting rusty.

The tunnel between the plane and the terminal was a gauntlet of hot, stale air. But, Jared had known enough to wait for everyone else to get off the plane before following so that he could trot up the passage and be back in air conditioning before he'd even started to sweat. Even at midnight, it was twenty degrees hotter than the sodden, sloppy soup he'd flown out of at JFK. But, without the murderous humidity, it was far easier to take.

As he reached the bottom of the ramp, he turned around and waited for several seconds before he realized that he was waiting for Karen. For most of the trip, he'd managed to forget about his ex-fiancee, even daydreaming about Joy guilt-free without specifically remembering why it was supposed to be okay to do so. Karen was gone. Her things were go. She wasn't answering his phone calls. She was dating some teacher. It was time for him to move on as well. Anger washed over him for the first time since they'd decided to break up—rising like a hot desert wind. She was dating a teacher? Irrationally, Jared felt like the choice of a man who voluntarily dealt with children on a daily basis had been a deliberate slap in the face to him.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh, feeling the anger drain out of him with the breath. Trailing his wheeled carry-on, he followed the signs for the monorail that would take him to baggage claim.

Many airports looked virtually identical to Jared. JFK, LAX, O'Hare... he couldn't tell them apart. But, McCarren always made him smile. It still had the same uncomfortable chairs you found everywhere, the same boarding counters, and the same tinted glass windows, but he'd never been in another airport that had slot machines or come-ons for strip shows along the walls. It was an airport that could only exist in a place like Las Vegas with its cheerfully guileless embrace of the vices that other cities furtively tucked away into their low-rent, high-crime neighborhoods. He could even forgive the enormous ad for Celine Dion in concert as he descended to baggage claim even if he didn't approve.

As he pushed his rented cart up next to the baggage carousel, he kept one eye out for his luggage and the other for a driver holding a sign with his name on it. Charlie had promised to send a car to pick him up and bring him out to the house. There were a half dozen men in black suits and ties with starched white shirts holding signs as he passed, but none of the signs had his name or even a rough approximation that might be a transliteration of his name from a badly garbled phone call. He bent over his carry-on to retrieve his cell phone and call Charlie. As he searched, he caught motion on the periphery of his vision. He glanced up enough to see a pair of women's white Nike running shoes with pink swooshes, the toes pointed straight at him like their wearer was looking at him. He glanced up past the rolled-down white socks. As his gaze traveled up two lean, tan legs, he grinned. There weren't many women he could identify by looking at her legs, but Joy's were memorable. He stood up, still grinning and found himself in a full-bodied hug that filled his senses with soft curves, the smell of cocoa butter and silky, honey-blonde hair imprinting the desert's warmth into his cheek and neck.

It drew him back to the last time Joy had hugged him like that. They had gone out for dinner and drinks at a Mexican restaurant with a big outdoor patio to celebrate the end of the project. She'd pulled him onto the dance floor and he'd surprised himself by going without even token resistance. He loved to dance and it had felt like months since he'd done anything but work and sleep. Later, they'd shared a cab—Jared to go home, Joy to go to a party a couple of blocks away. She'd come up to use the bathroom and, before leaving, given him that full-bodied, lingering hug.

Jared had never been unfaithful to Karen. He'd never wanted to be, not even then. But, he had momentarily regretted not being single. The next weekend, Karen had moved in.

Today, he was single. For the first time, the thought brought a smile to his face. He hugged Joy back, lifting her a little. She kicked her feet and laughed, "God, Jared. It's good to see you."

Jared put her down and stepped back, hands still on her shoulders. She was younger than him by a half dozen years, but she looked even younger tonight. Dressed in denim shorts and a white t-shirt that said "COLLEGE" in black block letters, she had her hair tied back in a ponytail and a black leather handbag with a gold clasp. Her smile was guileless. She still had the proportions of a teen-aged girl blossoming into womanhood—the long, elegant arms and legs without the coltishness or uncertainty of such extreme youth. Still, Jared noticed more than one man looking up from the luggage carousel at him with some combination of jealousy and disgust. He couldn't really blame them for either. Joy was beautiful, but she could have been sixteen as easily as twenty-six.

Joy bounced up on her toes, ponytail swinging back over her shoulder, "We should get moving. I'm kind of double parked... in the limo lane."

As Jared spotted his bags and dragged them, one at a time, off of the carousel, Joy kept talking, "Wait until you see the house. It's huge."

Jared laughed as he hauled his biggest bag free of the rail and shoved it onto the back of the cart, "Charlie has a way of finding good accommodations. You should have seen the place we lived in Atlantic City."

Joy shook her head, "I'll bet you twenty this place is nicer."

Jared hefted another bag onto the cart, "You sound pretty certain."

Joy tested the weight of Jared's carry-on, then let it go with a feminine grunt, "You moved out of the other place. I think I'd stay here forever if I could. It's kind of remote, though. But, once they finish building the rest of the development, it'll be pretty awesome."

"You still play poker?" Jared swung his third suitcase onto the cart.

Joy nodded emphatically, shuffling her feet as if she were impatient, "Sure. I've been playing pretty much every day since I got here. Why?"

Jared lifted the carry-on off its wheels and wedged it on top of the other luggage, "I just don't remember you making a prop bet before. I was just wondering how far over you'd gone to the dark side?"

Joy laughed, "I'm getting good odds. I think it would be a sucker's bet to take it. The place was set up as a model for timeshare."

Jared gave the cart a shove to get it moving. As he went by, Joy's fingertip traced over his bicep and down the back of his shoulder, "Still working out?"

Jared shrugged, suppressing a shiver from the chill that had shot down his spine, "I've been slacking the last couple of weeks. But, I try to take care of myself."

"Wait until you see the exercise room," said Joy, bouncing along next to him.

"It has an exercise room?"

Joy nodded emphatically as they passed through the automatic doors into the hot, dry air outside. Even at midnight, it was hot enough to suck the breath out of your lungs and the sweat out of your pores. If you weren't careful, you'd feel lightheaded from dessication before you even felt thirsty. Las Vegas could cool itself down with industrial grade air conditioners, pipe in water, and build elaborate boxes of glass and steel to keep the desert away. But, it would be a mistake to forget that it was always right outside. Joy led him out to a boxy, black towncar that looked just like the radio cars lined up along the curb. But, the similarity wasn't enough to fool the professional drivers. Joy ignored the dark scowls as they crossed the limo line, but responded to the one churlish blurt of a horn with a smile and a wave as if it had been a greeting instead of a complaint.

Joy popped the trunk open with a chirp from her key chain, "Tired... or hungry?"

Jared was both, although he refused to allow his fatigue to show after Joy had complimented him on his physique. He knew he was preening a little as he lifted the suitcases as if they weighed nothing at all, but if he couldn't show off for a pretty girl, when could he show off?

"I could eat," he fitted the last bag in the trunk and shut it.

As he pushed the empty cart back to the sidewalk, Joy followed him, "There's a nice, little cantina on the way to the house. We could go right there or swing by the house for a shower and a change of clothes if you prefer."

Jared shook his head. He didn't want to go to the house yet. As much as he was looking forward to seeing Charlie again, once he got there, this would be a job again. Right now, it was an evening out with Joy. Still, he didn't want to be oblivious if she was trying to hint at something. He pushed the empty cart onto the sidewalk, "I don't know. Do I stink?"

As he turned around, Joy was right there, close enough to wrap his arms around. She leaned in so that her nose was almost pressed against his shoulder and inhaled deeply, then shook her head, smiling up at him, "Nope. Fresh as a daisy."

Jared smiled back uncertainly, but didn't move. Joy was right there, head tilted back, lips slightly parted. Every sign told Jared that she wanted to be kissed except that nothing in the situation or their history warranted it. Instead, he joked, "Pity. I was going for 'rugged and manly.'"

Joy's grin widened, "I meant a very manly daisy... of course."

Inside the cantina was dark and cool, lit only by candles smelling faintly of oranges. The citrus scent mixed more pleasantly with the undercurrent of cigarette smoke than Jared would have expected. Spanish language dance music was punctuated with the clatter of billiard balls on an unseen pool table that must be somewhere in the back. Battered boots, mud-spattered trucks, callused hands, and muscular arms told Jared that most of the men there were in the building trade. The easy mixture of Spanish, English, and other, less recognizable languages in convivial chatter and interrupted by frequent, relaxed bursts of laughter told him that business was good. More significantly, there were nearly as many women there, dressed in bright colors, smiling, dancing, and flirting. Pretty young women bespoke prosperity better than bars of solid gold.

"They're breaking ground on a new casino just down the road," said Joy, leaning in to be heard over the music. "We're way off the Strip here. But, there's just a constant stream of pickup trucks and earth movers out this way and at least a half dozen job sites. The house is right on the edge of the desert, but I feel like, if we stayed here long enough, the city would just grow up around us."

Jared piled cheese and lettuce on a sliver of grilled chicken and wrapped it in a flour tortilla. The menu here was full of simple, inexpensive food, as different from the place he'd danced with Joy those years past as two Mexican restaurants could be. Even so, it felt to Jared like a continuation of that night with a short, three-year interruption in between. Even as the clock inside his head ticked past four in the morning, he would have happily danced if Joy had asked.

"If you're not planning on drinking tonight, would you mind driving the rest of the way to the house?" she asked, placing her empty beer bottle on the table with exaggerated precision. When Jared acquiesced, she sighed, "Thanks. I can use it."

Jared raised an eyebrow, "Long day?"

Joy gave a lopsided smile, "They're all... not exactly long, but intense. Charlie and Victoria have this... urgency about them. I think it comes from living and working out there and not leaving for days at a time." She shook her head, This was actually a comparably short day. Normally, I sleep eight hours, work eight hours, and play poker eight hours—minus the driving to get from place to place, of course."

"Sounds like the life," said Jared, grinning.

"You used to do it in Atlantic City. Didn't you?" Joy signaled for another beer, "Except, you didn't have a job at the time. Did you?"

Jared shook his head, "Not unless you count poker as a job."

Joy's grin held a hint of disbelief, "If you could pay the bills like that, why did you ever get another job?"

Jared ran his hand over his hair. The answer was complex. It had been said that poker was a hard way to make an easy living. The bankroll swings had been hard. In spite of what he'd told Charlie, he'd actually made more money playing than he did programming. But, he wasn't one of the best players. One long dry spell and he would have been wiped out. Besides, he'd met Karen, which had really driven home how unlikely he was to find the sort of woman he was looking for as a professional gambler. With his friends, he'd argued whether poker players were gamblers in the traditional sense of the word, but the distinction had been lost on his future fiancee.

That brought up a lot of subjects he didn't want to discuss tonight. Instead, he gave an answer that was equally true, "I'm a programmer. Even though I spent three years playing poker for a living, I kept programming and reading about programming. Every night... or morning, I would unwind from poker by reading an e-mail list full of programmers. I always knew I'd go back one day."

As he spoke, he was afraid he might be ruining any chance he had with Joy, but she just smiled, "Okay. Maybe I should have asked why you ever went and played poker for three years."

Jared laughed, "Well, when I work as a programmer, I go play poker three days a week. I read poker books. I frequent poker forums..."

Joy laughed along with him, "... and you unwind by reading an e-mail list full of poker players. I get it."

Jared lowered his head and shook it, grinning, "Something like that."