Fire and Ice (The Americana Series Book 5) Read online

  His ebony black hair gleamed under the soft glow of the chandelier. Under the dark eyebrows, thick dark spikes of black lashes outlined his eyes, so dark brown that they appeared black. Even now, at this distance, Alisa could see the burning intensity of his gaze as he studied the cards before him. His tanned cheekbones sat prominently in his face, suggesting leanness that wasn't there. The long, narrow nose looked as uncompromising as the rest of him. Finally her eyes rested on the cruel line of his mouth.

  Her left eyebrow lifted with her mounting excitement. There couldn't be two people who looked so much alike. A cool wave of resolution washed over her as Alisa turned slightly towards her cousin.

  "That man sitting to the left of the croupier, what do you know about him?"

  Michael glanced at her in surprise. Alisa was usually unconcerned about who she played with and rarely showed any interest in her fellow players, but obediently his gaze went to the man in question. As he recognized the man, Michael inhaled deeply to conceal his surprise. When he turned to Alisa he was equally surprised to see a glittering light in her eyes.

  "That's Zachary Stuart. I haven't seen him in Vegas since before his father died. He's a ruthless gambler, or at least, he was. He had the most uncanny luck at the tables, especially when you consider that he never seemed to care one way or the other. You'd do well to follow his lead in betting, Alisa."

  "I don't care how he gambles." Her gaze returned to the man at the table with a chilling calculation in her expression. "I want to know everything you know about him."

  "What for?" But at the freezing flash of her blue eyes, Michael shrugged his resignation. "You probably know as much as I do. I'm sure you've seen him at a couple of Elizabeth's parties in San Francisco. His father was a big import-export tycoon in San Francisco, dabbling in real estate and land developments. He went under about seven years ago when he invested a little too heavily in a development that was wiped out by mud slides. Rumour had it that the accident that killed him was really suicide, but it was never proved. Zachary—he was about twenty-five at the time—inherited all the debts, which is about the time he stopped coming to Vegas. I've heard that the only thing that he was able to keep, outside of his mother's house in San Francisco, was a small vineyard in Napa Valley. The winery and the vineyards had been abandoned for several years, so I understand, which means the slim profits he has made these last few years have been poured back into the property."

  Alisa permitted herself a smug smile when Michael finished. "So the arrogant Mr. Zachary Stuart is in need of money," she thought with jubilant bitterness.

  "He looks like a man who would do anything for money," she commented aloud.

  "I don't know if I would put it quite that way. Let's just say he would be pretty ruthless in getting what he wanted."

  "Is he married?"

  "Him? No. Does he look like the marrying kind? Though there've been an ample number of women who've tried." Michael laughed softly as he withdrew a cigarette from his pocket. "He has a similar view of women to what you do of men, with the exception that he believes women were put on earth for the purpose of providing a sexual outlet for men. I'm sure it's quite rare for him to find a woman who would deny him his pleasure." He glanced at Alisa with mocking amusement until he saw the grim, calculating expression on her face. "Oh, no, Alisa, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you'd better just forget it. There's one man that you couldn't make toe the line."

  For half a second, Alisa felt a twinge of fear that Michael could just be right, but she quickly pushed such a thought aside. "He meets all the requirements: a respectable family name though a little impoverished, and a person of breeding. It's all a matter of price, Michael dear."

  "You might consider how much you'll have to pay," Michael said, but Alisa ignored him as she walked forward to the roped gate, nodding serenely to one of the men when he escorted her in and seated her at the baccarat table beside Zachary Stuart.

  Although Alisa received several appreciative glances from other male players, there was no such recognition coming from Zachary Stuart. She sensed his indifference to her and set about subtly drawing his attention to her. At first she waited to place her bet until he had done so, then deliberately bet opposite him. He played exceedingly skillfully with Lady Luck sitting on his lap. Still he seemed unmoved by the growing stack of money in front of him and totally oblivious to Alisa's bets. Finally she removed a cigarette from her case, tapped it lightly on the table, and let it dangle in front of him absently as she watched the play. But when he courteously offered her a light, she declined and placed the cigarette back in its case. A few minutes later Alisa removed the cigarette again and just as Zachary's hand came out of his jacket pocket with a lighter, she turned to an older man on her other side and asked for a light. The deliberate affront successfully brought Zachary's attention to her.

  When he refused his turn to deal the cards from the shoe, Alisa did likewise. The small stake that she had started off with was nearly depleted, so she abstained from placing any bet. As she leaned against the back of the chair, she felt his dark gaze studying her. Now she turned to meet it, her own eyes sparkling with the excitement of this new game she was playing.

  "Would you like to have a drink with me?" he asked in a low, well modulated voice that had a condescending ring to it, even as the dark fire of his gaze mocked her.

  "I don't know you," Alisa replied coolly, reaching forward to stub her cigarette out in one graceful movement.

  "That's easily remedied. I'm Zachary Stuart." He indicated to the banker that they would be cashing in.

  "Alisa, … Alisa Franklin," she said calmly, despite the quivering elation of triumph racing through her as he rose to pull out her chair for her.

  Without inquiring her preference, Zachary Stuart proceeded to guide her towards one of the quieter, more secluded, dimly lit lounges on the edge of the casino floor. She discovered that he was uncomfortably taller than she. When Alisa was wearing heels, she was nearly five foot ten, which usually put any of her dates at eye level. But with Zachary Stuart, she just reached his chin. His height also gave the illusion of slenderness that was extremely misleading, for the breadth of his shoulders was very intimidating. Alisa was glad when they were finally seated at a small table and she no longer had to look at him.

  He ordered two dry Martinis, again without asking her preference, which she found quite irritating. With anyone else and in any other circumstances, Alisa would have refused the drink when it arrived at the table, merely to assert her authority since on her own she probably would have ordered the same drink. In this case, she managed to accept it graciously and quelled the tiny rebellion inside. As Alisa took a cigarette from her case and placed the filter-tipped end to her lips, a lighter snapped open and touched its yellow-orange flame to the cigarette.

  "Tell me," Zachary Stuart said, "are you always like that?"

  "I beg your pardon?" Alisa nearly choked on the smoke.

  "About who lights your cigarettes? That was a very ingenious and insulting way to get my attention, but then you succeeded very completely." His face was shadowed, but his voice left no doubt that he was amused by her ploy. "Alisa Franklin. I believe I've heard your name before."

  "It's quite possible. My mother, Eleanor Patterson, was killed in a plane crash a few weeks ago."

  "I can see you're in deep mourning for her." His sarcasm brought a chilling coldness to her face which she quickly tried to hide.

  "I believe I've heard of you before, too, Mr. Stuart. Wasn't your father a quite important person in San Francisco before his…" Alisa paused so that her words would carry the full implication, "… untimely death. You have a small vineyard now, I believe, in Napa Valley."

  "You seem to know a great deal about me."

  "Just bits and pieces,'' Alisa replied with biting softness. "How's business?"

  Zachary leaned forward, the small candle on the table illuminating his face and giving a sardonic curl to his lips.
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br />   "I have the strange feeling that if I said it was good you'd be disappointed." He regarded her with malicious amusement as a fleeting expression of discomfort flashed across her face. "You seem a little too frostbitten to want the key to my hotel room, so why don't you tell me exactly why you agreed to have a drink with me?"

  "You're quite right. I dislike wasting time with subtleties. I have a proposition to make to you, Mr. Stuart." At the disbelieving arched eyebrow, Alisa added hastily, "A business proposition."

  When she paused for his reaction, Zachary moved back into the shadows of the lounge. Alisa tried to stifle the growing irritation, but some of the sharpness crept through.

  "I understand that you are a little financially strapped right now, that you could use some money to make improvements on your vineyard and winery. I am prepared to give you that money."

  "That's very interesting. I can't help wondering why you should choose my business to invest in. Surely there is something you hope I will give you in return."

  The barest hint of colour touched her cheeks as Alisa straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin and spoke with as much dignity as she could.

  "I need a husband."

  A short, derisive laugh came from the man across the table. "There must be any number of marriage-minded men who would jump at the chance to marry a beautiful woman such as yourself. I recall hearing your name linked with Paul Andrews. Why don't you marry him?"

  "Paul?" For a brief moment, Alisa groped to put a face to the name, before the image of a strong, gentle man with light brown, almost blond hair was brought to mind. "He was a silly little milksop who panted at my heels like a puppydog. The palms of his hands were always sweaty." Alisa's voice was quite expressive in her distaste, although her expression remained composed and indifferent.

  "Did you hear he attempted suicide when you ordered him to leave you alone? It was about a year ago, I think."

  "That was a feeble-minded and spineless thing to do. Undoubtedly he couldn't succeed at that either." Paul Andrews was a tiresome subject to Alisa, one that was taking their conversation away from the business at hand. "My marriage would only be temporary. That's why I'd prefer it to be to a stranger."

  "Are you pregnant?"

  "Of course not!" Alisa denied vehemently and angrily.

  "Well, it is the usual reason why most women have to get married," Zachary mocked, his dark eyes twinkling at her in amusement. "What do you have to gain by marriage?"

  "My half-sister Christine, who's seven years old," Alisa retorted in cold defiance, wishing she could slap that derisive and sarcastic expression from his face. "My mother's will stated that I could have permanent custody of Christine only if I was married and had lived with my husband for one entire year. Otherwise her guardianship would go to my aunt and uncle."

  "Do you care for this little girl, or do you just hate your aunt and uncle?"

  "My feelings for both are equally intense–if it's any of your business." She lifted the Martini glass to her mouth and sipped it calmly.

  "If I were to agree to your ridiculous proposal, what would you be prepared to pay me?" The lighter flared again in the dimly lit room as Zachary inhaled on his cigarette. The brief, flickering flame revealed black fires in his eyes as he watched her reaction.

  "It would depend on what you required."

  "Around two hundred thousand would adequately take care of the modernization," he replied.

  "You're a very high-priced person." The words were drawn through tightly clenched teeth which managed to prevent Alisa from telling him exactly what she thought.

  "You get what you pay for, Alisa. My freedom is worth a great deal to me." He studied the smoke from his cigarette, it grey trail drifting lazily near his face. "What made you decide to put your proposition to me?"

  It had been at one of Elizabeth's parties, just as Michael had said, when Alisa had seen Zachary Stuart. Paul Andrews had been making himself a persistent nuisance. Perhaps that was why when he had left her side to greet the tall, dark-haired man just arriving, Alisa had spared the time to look. It had been Zachary Stuart, Alisa realized now. Paul had attempted to bring Zachary over to introduce him to Alisa, but Zachary had declined.

  Later in the evening when Alisa was just leaving the ladies' powder room, she had overheard Zachary talking. It had been a case of accidental eavesdropping, with only his profile against a backdrop of greenery to identify him. But he wasn't the kind of man one would forget.

  Some woman had been teasing him about his reluctance to meet Paul's new love. Zachary Stuart's cutting reply had remained with Alisa.

  "From what Paul has told me," Zachary had said, "she isn't my type of woman." He had spoken with the cool arrogance of a man who always got what he wanted. "I wouldn't waste my time on some cold, dumb blonde who would be afraid a man's caress would spoil her hairdo. I prefer someone with a little more heart and fire, and less ice and vanity."

  "I picked you, Mr. Stuart," Alisa chose her words carefully, "because you come from a family of breeding. Despite your lack of a personal fortune, you're considered quite eligible by the people I associate with. You're not some pampered, mollycoddled fool who's incapable of making a decision on his own. You strike me as being a mercenary individual who would go to great lengths to get what he wanted. Right now, you want money."

  There was a long silence following Alisa's statement. When Zachary did reply, his voice was light and lightly amused.

  "You don't hold a very high opinion of me, do you?"

  "I don't hold a very high opinion of any man, Mr. Stuart," Alisa answered contemptuously.

  "And how do you feel about love?"

  "The act or the emotion?" She accepted the cigarette he offered while glancing at him with frigid coldness. "Not that it matters, since my opinion of them both is equally low. The first is disgusting and degrading and the second is a trap laid by men to ensure that women do their bidding."

  "Perhaps in the twelve months that you live with me, I might teach you a different understanding of love." His dark eyes raked over her face and body with their obvious message. "But," with an expressive shrug of indifference, "you'd probably be too difficult a pupil and take up too much of my time."

  "I'm glad you feel that way, because this is a business arrangement only!" Alisa emphasized harshly. "I take it you're accepting my offer."

  "With a few conditions."

  "Which are?"

  "First of all, the two hundred thousand is mine to do with as I please. Whether our marriage lasts a week or a year, it's mine as my price for allowing you to take my name." Zachary smiled at the insolent curl of Alisa's lips for his condescending attitude. "Secondly, while we're married, you will live where I live and off my own earnings. I assure you, my home is quite comfortable and my table well set. Finally, I'm sure your rigid pride will allow you to agree with me that no one outside of ourselves should know that this is a business arrangement for our own mutual benefit. Therefore I hope that in the company of our friends and family you will at least make an effort to display a fondness towards me."

  "Is that all?" She made no effort to hide the cutting sarcasm brought on by her growing anger. "Has your male ego been satisfied?"

  "For the time being. When is the marriage to take place?"

  Alisa stared at the almost satanic pleasure in his expression, silently wishing that the freezing scorn in her own eyes would bring the usual discomfort that most men had shown under that gaze, but he was impervious to it.

  "The sooner the better." She gathered the black lace shawl around her shoulders and rose from her chair as he simultaneously joined her.

  "I'll make the necessary arrangements," Zachary announced, extending his hand to her.

  With ill grace, Alisa placed her hand in his, wondering if this symbolic act of shaking hands to seal an agreement was really an act of putting her future in the hands of doom.

  "How strange," Zachary murmured, glancing down at their clasped hands. "Your hand is
cool."

  "So?" She attempted to withdraw it, but he held it firmly.

  "Haven't you heard the saying, 'Cold hands, warm heart'?" He was laughing at her again behind those fiery bright eyes.

  "That's a silly old wives' tale." Finally managing to free her hand, she turned away from him and began to walk towards the casino area.

  "I'd be careful if I were you." Zachary was at her side almost immediately, his large hand imprisoning her elbow. "You already have one warm spot in your ice-encrusted heart for your sister. Some day a fire might come along and melt the rest away."

  "I'm completely immune to the type of fire you're talking about." She turned her frosty blue eyes towards his jeering smile.

  "Which brings up another point. I'm not immune to the fires of passion, unlike you. Since this is quite obviously to be a marriage in name only, I sincerely hope that you don't expect me to embrace the vows of celibacy for an entire year."

  "Go ahead and have your disgusting little affairs," Alisa said calmly, while allowing her distaste to show. "Just have the decency, if you can, to keep them discreet. Now, if you'll excuse me, I see a friend waiting for me."

  "Certainly," Zachary agreed smoothly. "I'll call you at ten to inform you of the time and place of 'our' wedding. What room are you in?"

  Alisa gave him the information, disliking the imperious look on his face as if he were doing her a favour. As quickly as she could and with as much dignity and composure as she could, she left his side to join her cousin, who as usual, was completely engrossed at the dice tables.

  When Alisa had finally dragged him away from the tables, and informed him of her coming marriage to Zachary Stuart, Michael had been shocked and outspokenly against it. He knew a great deal more about Zachary Stuart than he had told his cousin, mostly because he never dreamed that the man would even consider such a proposition as Alisa had put to him, let alone agree to it. His words of warning were wasted when he tried to explain to her that Stuart was a ruthless and merciless man when it came to getting what he wanted, that he could be extraordinarily cruel to those who had incurred his displeasure, and that he had no qualms about making advances towards his friends; women, unmarried or not, willing or not, though it was seldom that the women weren't willing.