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concentration.
    Annalisa noted that the pile of chips in front of Chase wasn’t nearly as large as some of the others at the table. She felt a little tremor of satisfaction. It served him right. Cheaters didn’t deserve to win.
    A waiter appeared at her table with an opened bottle and a long-stemmed glass.
    "I didn’t order that," she said softly.
    "It is compliments of a gentleman," he replied, pouring. "Our very best French champagne."
    He stepped back and waited expectantly. Annalisa glanced up, unsure what to do.
    "But I don’t want this."
    The waiter blinked. "You would prefer something else? Wine perhaps?"
    "No. That is, I don’t think so. I intended to have tea."
    "Perhaps if you would try a taste." The waiter indicated the glass.
    She sighed in exasperation, wishing he would just go away. Picking up the glass, she sipped, feeling the cool amber liquid slide down her throat. Yvette had once tried to describe the taste of champagne to Annalisa after one of her summers in Europe. She had declared that there was nothing quite like the taste. And the bubbles, she added, tickled her nose.
    Annalisa’s eyes widened. It was tart, with a slightly fruity taste that was very pleasing. And the bubbles didn’t exactly tickle; they . . . fizzed.
    Surprised, she smiled her approval. As the waiter walked away, she caught a glimpse of Chase across the room. With a slight nod of his head, he acknowledged her acceptance of his gift. Instantly irritated, she looked away, avoiding those dark, knowing eyes.
    She should have sent that waiter away with a brusque refusal. Chase was laughing at her, she thought with annoyance. There seemed always to be a hint of a smile lurking behind those dark eyes.
    A waiter bore the first course of her dinner, giving Annalisa an opportunity to turn her attention to something other than Chase Masters.
    At a rumble of laughter, Annalisa glanced toward the poker table. The man beside Chase caught at a pile of chips, greedily raking them toward him. Chase showed absolutely no emotion as he viewed the scene. Biting an end from a cigar, he leaned toward a waiter who held a match to the tip. Through a haze of smoke, his eyes narrowed. Seeing Annalisa’s gaze fixed on him, he watched the stream of smoke drift upward. She felt dark eyes pin her with a deadly stare. Her pulse lurched when he gave her a knowing wink.
    She tossed her head then stared out the window, seeing nothing. Her cheeks were burning, her breathing as erratic as her heartbeat. How dare he flash that arranged signal.
    Hadn’t she made it plain that she wanted no part of his dirty little scheme? She wouldn’t look at him again. She wanted it clearly understood. She was not going to help him cheat at cards.
    She heard the low rumble of voices as the cards were being dealt. The whisper of cards being picked up signaled the start of another hand. Still she refused to look over. Keeping her head averted, she stared determinedly at the trail of silver moonlight on the darkened river.
    Let Chase Masters lose. She hoped he lost a fortune. It served him right. How could he ask a lady, a stranger he had just met, to be a partner in his crime?
    Someone bet. A second voice raised. She felt a tiny prickle along her skin as she recognized Chase’s deep voice calling for a card. With fierce determination she kept her gaze averted and stared at the clouds scudding across the moon. From clear across the room she could hear the tense silence as the hands were being declared. There was a collective sigh, then a burst of good-natured swearing as the winning hand was displayed. Annalisa chanced a furtive glance at the dark head bent over the cards as a stranger across the table raked in the chips. In that brief instant, Chase looked up. With the barest hint of a smile, he winked. Her heart stopped. She felt the heat stain her cheeks. Narrowing her eyes, she shot him a hateful look. His mustache twitched. Beneath it his smile widened.
    Her eyes blazed. This