Synopsis
Games of chance, games of passion, games of love—roll the dice for a week in Las Vegas with games mistresses Radclyffe and Karin Kallmaker. Whether a public table or a back room invitational, the players want to score and everybody can’t wait to go all in.
A pit boss who thinks she’s seen it all thinks again. A shy novelist considers research in a hospitality suite. The fountains of Las Vegas inspire more than one couple to try something new. Double or nothing? Inside bet? How about a little insurance when the dealer has the upper hand?
Choose your game, ante up and enjoy the floor show. All bets are off when these two writers deal the cards, and every hand is a winner.
In Deep Waters 2: Cruising the Strip
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In Deep Waters 2: Cruising the Strip
© 2008 By Radclyffe and Karin Kallmaker. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-469-0
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: May 2008
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: J.B. Greystone
Frontispiece: Barb Kiwak (www.kiwak.com)
Cover Graphic: Sheri (graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)
Radclyffe’s Dedication
To Lee
All the Stories
Karin Kallmaker’s Dedication
Humbly dedicated to Radclyffe and Linda Hill for figuring out a way for me to have so much fun.
Was it good for you?
Thank you to my partner and children for their support and tolerance, and to friends and readers everywhere for encouragement and inspiration.
Other Books by Radclyffe
Romances
Innocent Hearts
Promising Hearts
Love’s Melody Lost
Love’s Tender Warriors
Tomorrow’s Promise
Love’s Masquerade
shadowland
Passion’s Bright Fury
Fated Love
Turn Back Time
When Dreams Tremble
The Lonely Hearts Club
Night Call
Secrets in the Stone
Desire by Starlight
Erotica
Erotic Interludes: Change of Pace
(A Short Story Collection)
Radical Encounters
(A Erotic Short Story Collection)
Stacia Seaman and Radclyffe, eds.
Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments
Erotic Interludes 3: Lessons in Love
Erotic Interludes 4: Extreme Passions
Erotic Interludes 5: Road Games
Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery
Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets
The Provincetown Tales
Safe Harbor
Beyond the Breakwater
Distant Shores, Silent Thunder
Storms of Change
Winds of Fortune
Returning Tides
Honor Series
Above All, Honor
Honor Bound
Love & Honor
Honor Guards
Honor Reclaimed
Honor Under Siege
Word of Honor
Justice Series
A Matter of Trust (prequel)
Shield of Justice
In Pursuit of Justice
Justice in the Shadows
Justice Served
Justice For All
First Responders Novels
Trauma Alert
Writing as L.L. Raand
Midnight Hunters
The Midnight Hunt
Other Books by Karin Kallmaker
Romance:
Above Temptation
Stepping Stone
Warming Trend
The Kiss that Counted
Night Vision / The Dawning
Christabel
Finders Keepers
Just Like That
Sugar
One Degree of Separation
Maybe Next Time
Substitute for Love
Frosting on the Cake
Unforgettable
Watermark
Making Up for Lost Time
Embrace in Motion
Wild Things
Painted Moon
Car Pool
Paperback Romance
Touchwood
In Every Port
Erotica:
In Deep Waters: Cruising the Seas
18th & Castro
All the Wrong Places
Tall in the Saddle: New Exploits of Western Lesbians
Stake through the Heart: New Exploits of Twilight Lesbians
Bell, Book and Dyke: New Exploits of Magical Lesbians
Once Upon a Dyke: New Exploits of Fairy Tale Lesbians
Radclyffe’s Acknowledgments
By the time I finished my first cruise with Karin Kallmaker, I was ready to book a return trip. Everything about In Deep Waters 1: Cruising the Seas (Bella Books, 2007) from the first page to the last, was fun, creatively challenging, and satisfying. What more could an author want? Well, I wanted to do it all again—and luckily, so did Karin (which is a very good thing, because we’d already promised our respective publishers one volume each before we’d even set sail the first time). I think we both worried a little bit more on the maiden voyage because what if we didn’t get along? What if we couldn’t concur on a story order? What if, gasp, we couldn’t agree as to who was on top (or not)? As it turned out, we had no trouble either time negotiating a more than satisfying arrangement regarding scenes, accoutrements, and accessories (and who got to play with what when). Vegas is one of my favorite cities and thanks to Karin, it is now one of my favorite literary haunts.
Many thanks to Cindy Cresap for forging a whole from twenty four selections by two authors with different voices, different rhythms, and different styles. An anthology with multiple authors is far easier to edit because the individual selections are not as intimately related as they were designed to be in this collection. Thank you, Cindy, for making this such a rewarding literary threesome.
Barb Kiwak and Sheri deserve kudos for the outstanding artwork, frontispiece and cover, respectively.
And lastly and most especially, to the readers, thanks for joining us in Vegas, and no matter what your pleasure, I hope you have as much enjoyment in the reading as we did in the writing.
— Radclyffe, January 2008
Karin Kallmaker’s Acknowledgments
If you really enjoy something, I recommend doing it at least twice, especially if it involves partnering up with someone whose love of the results matches your own.
Working with Radclyffe is like finding the perfect partner for tennis—one challenging enough to get you out of your own zone, leading to the mutual goal of a fantastic volley based on complementary strengths. For this anthology, she lobbed balls over the net and waited patiently to see if I could return service. When I did, ooo, baby, did we have fun!
&
nbsp; Having collaborated before on In Deep Waters 1, we spent less time making sure we were in sync and more time just plain playing. I hope readers are as amused and excited as I am by the results. Any resemblance of our characters to persons living are purely coincidental. Let’s just say that I suspected Radclyffe of having a twisted and inspired sense of humor, and I wasn’t wrong.
Speaking of characters, several of mine from previous works make an appearance in this volume. With a librarian’s convention in town, “Twenty-One” of course makes Marian and Liddy from One Degree of Separation a natural choice. Brandy and Tess of “Lucky 7” first appeared in All the Wrong Places. “Lucky 7” continues the storyline from “Cruising Solo” in the first In Deep Waters. Author Carolyn and her agent Alison, from Paperback Romance, are attending the romance writer’s convention, reaping the rewards of fifteen years’ pride in “Payout.”
Though I want to say that such stories, and the few other affectionate jokes in this volume, are all for the readers, honesty demands that I admit that I love revisiting my old friends. I truly hope that readers enjoy the results as much as I do.
Gambling is often compared to the risks of love and relationships. I’m not sure why, since inherently gambling means someone loses and someone wins, and the odds are always lopsided. So while we play with the metaphor, it is flawed. In practice, writing with Radclyffe about gambling, love, and sex defies the metaphor completely, because everyone comes out a winner.
— Karin, January 2008
Following Suit
by Radclyffe
The instant I stepped inside the Palace Casino, I saw her holding court with a hundred avid readers right in the middle of the grand lobby. Heads were going to roll in publicity as soon as I got to a phone. I only agreed to attend this conference because the VP of Marketing assured me, on his life—and more importantly, his annual bonus—I wouldn’t have to breathe the same air as her. And here we were arriving at exactly the same time. Wonderful bit of planning.
“Welcome to the Palace, Ms. Wainwright,” a handsome young man looking somewhat ridiculous in his red uniform with gold tasseled epaulets and shiny buttons announced as I quickly composed my face into what I knew was a cover-shot worthy smile. “Let me assist you to reception. The bellman will take your luggage directly to your suite.”
“Thank you.” I avoided his offered arm while I watched Byrne Ambrose sign autographs and pose for photos and generally charm the pants off her audience. A smiling, gushing, absolutely thrilled group of devoted readers, all of whom just happened to have been my readers first. It didn’t help that in addition to being charming, Byrne was a walking heart palpitation. Tall, slender, and dark-haired with pale skin and piercing dark eyes. A full, sensuous lower lip and a mouth made for kissing. Not that I was ever one to underestimate my own powers of allure, I nevertheless knew that my blond hair and blue eyes gave me a somewhat girl next door appeal. A critic had once compared our writing to our physical appearances. Her observation that my romances glowed with sweet sensuality while Byrne’s simmered with dark eroticism somehow managed to intimate that I was unadventurous in bed while Byrne set the sheets afire. Foolish to think that the surface reflects the depths of anything, and even more foolish of me to be bothered by a stranger’s assessment. Probably if she hadn’t been comparing me to Byrne…
I heard the click and whir of a camera nearby and realized I was staring at the object of my supreme annoyance. Adjusting my smile, I did the only thing I could. I walked directly across the lobby to Byrne.
“How good to see you again, Byrne,” I said, holding out my hand.
Byrne looked up slowly from the book she had been signing, her eyes even darker than I remembered. For an instant I saw a spark of surprise, or perhaps pleasure, before her handsome features settled into a practiced, gracious expression. She took my hand, and in true Byrne Ambrose fashion, raised it to her lips. More cameras flashed and whirred.
“Amelia. Always a pleasure.”
“Isn’t it just.” Her voice, rich and smooth as dark chocolate, rippled through me, and I forced myself not to react to the undeniable wisps of pleasure stirred by the soft glide of her mouth on my skin. I swear some of the women standing nearby almost swooned. Carefully, I withdrew my hand. “I understood you were touring in England. How fortunate you could make it for the conference.”
“When I heard you’d be here, how could I not?”
Easily, I thought, trying not to grind my teeth. You could have stayed in Europe so that for once, we didn’t have to share headliner status. Not only was I ten years older, I’d been writing almost twenty years longer than she had when she burst onto the scene two years earlier with her unique and, unfortunately, very skillful blend of simmering sex combined with soaring romantic passion. She was very good, and I wasn’t too small to admit that. Nevertheless, being constantly compared to her as if only one of us was really capable of writing powerful romance wore on my nerves. And worse, every time I saw her, I was more drawn to her.
“You’re absolutely right,” I said lightly. “What fun would it be without the two of us here?”
“No fun at all.”
Though her tone was surprisingly serious, I saw sardonic amusement dance across her damnably handsome face before I moved a few feet away to sign some autographs of my own. Even as I tended to business, I could hear her laughter in the background, and every note shimmered through me as if she were breathing her pleasure into my ear.
After thirty minutes of chatting up the crowd, I pleaded travel fatigue and escaped to my suite. I was tired. I’d just finished my latest novel barely on deadline before packing and flying all day to get here for the opening of the National Romance Writers conference in the morning. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I kicked off my heels and stripped out of my traveling ensemble on the way to the bathroom. A long, hot shower eased some of the aches and weariness, and by the time I’d finished, I was hungry. I unpacked my silk robe, because I never cared much for the terrycloth ones provided even in the best of hotels, and went to investigate the welcome tray of hors d’oeuvres sitting in the center of the coffee table in the lounge area of the suite. I don’t know how I missed the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket by the sofa when I came in, either. That was certainly a nice amenity. The complementary appetizers included an assortment of fresh fruit, cheese, crackers, and even a generous serving of caviar in an iced crystal goblet. Hmm, a very nice welcoming gift. Idly, I lifted the card and for some reason read it, even though I knew the bounty had been left as a courtesy by the hotel.
Of course, I was wrong.
Amelia, I’m so happy you’re here. I hope we have a moment to compare notes on romance. Byrne
I hated the little skip in my heart when I saw her name. She had beautiful handwriting too, very much like her. Bold and dashing. Oh, it was so hard not to like her. I even liked her books, damn her. With a sigh, I removed the gold foil from around the mouth of the champagne bottle. Before I had a chance to remove the wire basket securing the cork, the doorbell rang. I set the champagne on the coffee table and went to answer. Expecting housekeeping, I peered through the security lens. Wrong again.
“Byrne?” I released the latch and opened the door before I remembered I was barefoot and braless and wearing a short silk robe. Since Byrne’s eyebrows rose infinitesimally as her glance swept over me, I knew it was already too late. She’d taken in the whole of me, which meant she also noticed my unabashedly erect nipples.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Byrne said in that bedroom voice, “but these conferences are always so hectic and we so very rarely have a chance to talk.” She smiled somewhat apologetically. “But I see this is a bad time. Perhaps we could—”
“No,” I said quickly, opening the door wider and surprising us both. “Come in. Please. I was just about to break out the lovely champagne you sent. Won’t you join me?”
“How can I refuse?” Byrne sat beside me on the pale green damask sofa and reached for th
e champagne. “Shall I finish opening it?”
“Yes, please.” I turned slightly to face her and curled my legs beneath me, very aware that I was nearly naked next to a very sexy woman. Whom I loathed. Byrne had changed into slacks and an open collar dark blue linen shirt, and she looked carelessly delicious. “Crackers?”
“I’m sorry?” Byrne handed me a flute of champagne.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, flustered for no reason that I could imagine.
Byrne glanced at the very eye-catching tray, then back at me. “Does craving your company count?”
“That’s an excellent line,” I said, hoping to hide my ridiculous thrill of pleasure. Clearly, she had some agenda that would soon become clear.
“It’s the truth.” Byrne sipped her champagne and allowed me to look into her eyes, eyes that were completely devoid of any subterfuge. “I’ve always been a huge fan of your work, and I’ve never had a chance to tell you that.”
I made a demurring noise and chided myself for being flattered.
“No, I’m serious. I’ve been coming to your readings and panel sessions for years, but of course, you never noticed me. Why would you, with so many readers clamoring for your attention?”
Oh, I would have noticed you in the audience. There aren’t very many women who stop my heart just at the sight of them.
“And then,” Byrne went on, “when my books came out, everything happened so fast, I’ve never had a chance to really talk to you.”
“That happens when you’re an overnight sensation.” I discovered my champagne glass was empty and put it down.