An Offer He Cant Refuse - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,64

be fixated on the past. Smooth, cool Johnny who would never leave his bed partner flat.

He tipped his beer bottle toward Cal. 'This is Cal Kazarsky. Cal, meet my low-life little brother."

They shook hands. "Cool shirt," Cal commented to Michael.

His brother glanced down at his chest and smiled. The slogan of the day read: don't worry, it only seems kinky the first time. "I had to sneak it past Felicity. As much as I love the woman, she has no appreciation for my T-shirt humor."

"How is the new Mrs. Magee?" Johnny asked. His brother had married just a few months before.

"See for yourself." Michael picked up a remote control and thumbed it on. The television mounted overhead blazed to life, displaying the GetTV home shopping channel logo across the bottom and an irrepressible Felicity Charm Magee center screen.

Cal scooted his barstool closer. "Hey, I recognize that woman. I've always liked her."

Michael shook his head in sympathy. "Everybody does. But she belongs to me."

Cal was already engrossed in the details of the product Felicity was selling. Michael glanced at the screen, then Cal, then finally Johnny. "Should we wrestle his wallet from him until she goes off air? She could cost him a bundle."

Johnny shrugged. "He can afford a bundle. He works for the syndicate."

"Still pulling in the dough, huh?"

"You know me." Yes, it had been a good idea to come here, he decided, tilting back his head to take another swallow of beer. Already he was feeling more like himself. Johnny Magee, successful professional gambler. Johnny Magee, who was successful because he was the kind of man who operated in a completely objective and unemotional manner.

That was the true secret to success at gambling. Once you made decisions based on anything but logic, you were already a loser. Pure detachment was the best mind-set with which to play - at gambling and at life.

"Yeah, I know you," Michael said, leaning on the counter behind him and crossing his arms over his chest again. "And you look like hell, Johnny. What's going on?"

Unwilling to let his brother's pronouncement ruin his happier mood, Johnny examined the label on his bottle of beer, running his finger around the edges. "Is it my fault you have no appreciation for good tailoring and shirts that don't come complete with their own raunchy worldview?"

"Oh, you still appear to have walked off page seventy-eight of this month's GQ, and Felicity goes ga-ga over those kind of looks so I might have to deck you, but that's not what I'm talking about. There's something in your eyes."

"It's the desert, it's dry - "

"It's serious bullshit you're trying to sell me, brother."

"Half-brother." Johnny didn't know what made him say it. No, that was bullshit too. He was warning Michael off, telling him he was getting too close. Johnny Magee, slick, cool Johnny Magee, liked his conversations, just like his relationships, shallow.

'The Heisman isn't going to work on me this time, Johnny."

The expression startled a laugh out of him. He hadn't thought of it in years, the reference to the stiff-armed position of the Heisman Memorial college football trophy that was Magee family code for keeping someone at bay. "How is Phineas, by the way?"

"Dad's a little busy."

"Oh?" Johnny inspected the beer label again.

"Yeah, he's spending a lot of time tying Mom to chairs in order to keep her from flying down here and saving your ass."

He jerked up his head to stare at his brother. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You think she hasn't figured out why you all of a sudden picked up your tent and hauled it down to Palm Springs? She's been terrified of your father's mob connections for years."

"We don't know that there are mob connections, damn it." Or mob criminal activity, either. The Mafia and his father's murder had rarely been spoken of in the same breath within the Magee household, but it had always been there, just something else setting Johnny apart from the rest of the family.

But he had to face the possibility that there was a real connection, now that neighbor Phillip believed it could be true. It was why Johnny had changed his mind on Friday night about taking Tea to bed. He'd figured she'd never forgive him or herself for making love with the son of the man who'd killed her father. But now he'd blown that scruple all to hell, hadn't he?

Worse, he hadn't done something as civilized as make love to her. He'd lost his