'You don't: have to play with him,’ she accused in an uneven voice.

I don't have to play with anyone,’ he agreed. I choose who I play against.' He paused and added very softly, 'And why.'

She stopped in her tracks and looked round, shaken and disturbed by that voice, those words.

He met her eyes directly. He wasn't smiling and his eyes were a cool, glinting blue.

'Why do you play with Chris?' she asked huskily, hoping he couldn't see the faint dew which had sprung out on her upper lip and forehead.

'He has something I want,' Luc Ferrier said, and her stomach cramped as though clenched in agony.

Trying to breathe evenly, she asked in a shaky voice, 'What?'

She saw the slow derisive lift of his dark brows, the sardonic twist of his mouth. 'I don't have to tell you that, do I, Lissa?'

She swallowed. 'Money?' she whispered, and he laughed under his breath.

'Money? I never gamble for money.'

The answer took her breath away. She stared in total disbelief. He grinned, amused by her amazement.

'Gamblers never do-real gamblers, that is-oh, the amateurs may do it for that, but then it's the money they're interested in, not the gambling.' He had a, reckless, vital amusement in his face. 'A real gambler does it for the sheer hell of it. The kick he gets when he has a big win. The danger, the uncertainty, Acknowledge that he's walking a tightrope over an abyss without a safety net.' He paused and smiled oddly at her. 'Ask your fiancé. He doesn't gamble for money, either. He gambles for the same reason as myself-he has an urge to prove himself against other men.' His eyes glittered like strange blue stones and his skin was taut. 'He wants to flatten me'

She remembered Chris saying excitedly: 'I can take him,' and the feverish brightness of his eyes. 'Why does he want to beat you so much?' she asked Luc Ferrier with unhidden anxiety.

He shrugged wryly. 'I've got a reputation, I suppose. It gets around, and men hanker for the thrill of being able to say they beat me. It can be irritating. Every place I go to there's going to be someone itching to take me and wring me dry. Not for the money-just for the boosted ego of doing it.'

Lissa was worried and angry and she burst out furiously: 'Why do you go on living like that? Drifting around from casino to casino, winning and losing money day after day. It's degrading!'

'I only gamble in the summer,' he said with wicked amusement. 'The rest of the year I risk my life in London traffic.'

She frowned. 'What?'

He was mocking her. 'I suppose it's another form of gambling, really.'

'What are you talking about?'

'My job,' he said, and Lissa's mouth opened on a surprised intake of air.

Luc laughed again. 'Close your mouth. Are you catching flies? Out here you might catch something much nastier.'

'Job?' she repeated huskily.

'Nasty word, isn't it?' he said. 'I try to keep it quiet It only confuses people.'

'You work?'

His laughter deepened and he bent a wicked eye on her. 'Alas, yes.'

'What at?' she asked, unable to believe he meant it.

'What a narrow-minded girl you are!' he drawled. 'I work in a London office for nine months of the year, actually.'

'Doing what?' Lissa regarded him incredulously.

'Gambling,' he mocked, grinning.

Lissa's teeth set. 'I don't believe you!' He was making fun of her. She turned to go and he caught her arm, his fingers folding softly round her elbow, not hurting yet making it impossible for her to move away.

'I work with the Stock Exchange,' he explained.

'The London Stock Exchange?'

'That's right, I gamble on market fluctuations, I'm good at it, I make a lot of money. It calls for the same skills as poker. You have to have intuition, a gut feeling that some stock is about to move up or down, and the nerve to back your judgment with hard cash. In the last resort, that's what all gambling comes to-nerve and a clear head.' He paused, eyeing her. 'That's why your fiancé should stay away from it. He has the nerve and the desire to win, but he doesn't have the head for it.'

. Lissa looked at the hard, assertive face and swallowed. 'Don't play with him again!' The fear she was feeling was inexplicable. All her instincts cried out that for Chris to play against Luc Ferrier was dangerous. She couldn't say why she should feel that. It was an unconscious reaction deep inside her and her conscious mind couldn't pin down the hidden reasoning which had caused it.

Luc Ferrier's blue eyes narrowed and he watched her closely. 'We'll make a bargain,' he told her.

'What?' She looked anxiously into the blue eyes, her face shifting in uncertainty.

'Spend the afternoon with me and I promise I won't play poker with your fiancé tonight,' he drawled.

Lissa sensed at once that lie had led her into that trap deliberately. He had known she was nervous about Chris playing with him and he had played on her fears.

'Well?' he demanded.

She looked down, biting her lower lip, trying to think. It was blatant blackmail and she would need her head examined if she gave in to it. Chris had promised he wouldn't play with Luc Ferrier, hadn't he? But Chris was a gambler and Lissa knew gamblers. Chris would forget his promise to her if his passion for poker beckoned.

Luc Ferrier turned away, shrugging those wide shoulders. 'Okay, forget it. Obviously you have no objections to Brandon playing with me, after all.'

'I'll come,' she said huskily as he moved away.

He stopped and turned. The blue eyes smiled and she caught her breath at the beauty of them, set in their thick black lashes, the compelling nature of that smile irresistible.

She knew it was madness to agree to spend the afternoon with him, but if she had refused she guessed he would have persuaded Chris to play tonight and Chris would have lost again. Lissa was certain of it. Chris hadn't got a hope against Luc Ferrier.

She left Fortune at the desk with the day clerk and went to her room. She showered and changed into a plain blue shift in glazed cotton. It was sleeveless, with a low scooped neckline, quite short, exposing most of her body to the sun. Brushing her long blonde hair, she thought about the problem facing her. How was she going to spend several hours with Luc Ferrier and still keep him at a safe distance? In the past her innocence

had protected her. All the men who worked at the hotel kept their distance without her having to do anything about it. They might smile, eye her admiringly, but they had never stepped over the line they drew for themselves.

She did not need to guess that Luc Ferrier was going to be much tougher to handle; everything about him made it blazingly obvious.

She drew her hair behind her head and anchored it with a small black velvet bow. The change of hairstyle gave her face a pure outline, very young, very innocent. She regarded herself assessingly. Yes, she decided, that was better. She did not put on any make-up. Quite often in the summer she didn't bother. Her tanned skin did not need it and spending so much time in the ocean she just forgot to put make-up on except in the evenings when she was going to work.

When she joined Luc Ferrier she felt the quick, all-seeing shaft of his glance. The blue eyes were sardonic as she looked up into them. He knew she had dressed carefully and deliberately and he knew why.

'Very demure,’ he murmured softly. 'Sweet and innocent. You look like a daisy.'

She flushed, not liking the comparison.

'Shall we be on our way?' Luc asked, and she turned reluctantly to walk out with him.

Rebecca was crossing the foyer with a clipboard and sheaf of papers in her hand. Lissa felt her staring and avoided her eyes. Rebecca would tell Chris, she realised with a quiver of alarm. What would Chris say when he found out she had gone off with Luc Ferrier?