POKER NIGHT

"Kyra, are you planning anything special for tonight's poker snacks?"

"Not particularly. Those nice kettle chips and beer nuts for the table and some hot hors d'oeuvres for your break, from the caterer on Sullivan Street. I'll pick up Captain at the package store. Do you want the spiced?"

Rick raised his brow." Of course, and we have cola? What single malts? Cannell is coming."

"Laphroaig and Islay. And Phrog gin from that mini-distillery in Canada that you picked up in Edmonton."

See if you can't get something special for the hot snacks. I've got a special guest."

"Oh, is Stephen King in town?"

"No, Detective Beckett. I thought she might like to meet a few other writers."

"She's a poker player? Can she afford the kind of stakes you guys go for?"

"I'll make sure she not in on those hands, don't worry."

"I'm not worrying. Grownups should be able to know when they're getting in too deep."

"Is that a snipe? I can afford to lose sometimes, you know. I'm still on the bestseller list. You don't have to watch what you spend. Want a Birkin bag? Go ahead! More Louboutins? No problem!"

"Rick."

I'm bringing home the bacon around here. I think I can decide how to spend my money."

"Rick."

"You're doing those eyes again, Ky. Just don't nag. I won't lose. I've got a good feeling about tonight."

"Okay, don't fight. I'll set up and make myself scarce. "

Kyra let herself in as the game was breaking up.

Steve Cannell greeted her with a hug and kissed her cheek. "Kyra, sweetheart! Why are you still hanging around with this guy? When are you gonna run away with me?"

"Steven, please, remember we are trying to keep our torrid affair a secret from my husband?"

"Oops!" he laughed, "I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with stealing his money."

Kyra's smile froze. How much had Rick lost tonight?

Jim Patterson kissed Kyra goodbye too. "Rick owes you some serious makeup bling after this game. Take care, darling."

|"We should have a proper visit some time, Jim. I never get to chat with you at these games."

"But fleecing Ricky is so much fun! Anyway, it was that muse of his that did best tonight. Rick was dropping the ball on her hands most of the time."

Kyra wondered if her smile was turning into a rictus. Her cheeks hurt from her stiff "charming hostess" smile. She excused herself and found busy work in the kitchen while Rick said goodnight to his guests. He was very gallant about helping Detective Beckett with her coat.

"Don't ask."

"Rick, I didn't.."

"She's got a tight budget. I can afford to cover her."

"Jim thought you were throwing your game to make sure of that."

"None of his business. He did alright."

"Sounds like everyone did but you."

"I told you,don't ask." His face was red and sullen.

"I'm sorry, Rick. You know I still remember that time when we were first married."

"Fifteen years! Fifteen!"

"We were evicted! All our money was gone! Neither of us had work. We lost our furniture because we had nowhere to keep it or even money to move it! And you kept on playing the damn horses!"

"Okay, it was a tough couple of months."

"It was most of a year! I couldn't finish my degree because I had to quit school to put food on the table, while you wrote. And that SRO hotel was crawling…" Kyra sobbed.

"Ky, Ky. Those days are gone. They won't be back. We're never going to be hand to mouth again." his voice was low, soothing, a comforting baritone murmur. "Look. Why don't I make you an appointment with Mike. He can show you how I've been investing. I own more than this loft and the Hamptons place, you know. I have a couple of apartment buildings and commercial properties with steady tenants. And stocks. I could stop writing tomorrow without hurting too much. Don't worry so much."

He wrapped his big body around her tiny form. It was comforting.

But why did he say "I own" instead of "we'?