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Paul’s composure cracked for just a moment, revealing a flash of darker emotions underneath, like the sullen glow of magma beneath a crust of hardened lava. He called instantly, turning over pocket aces for three of a kind.

Caleb showed his ace-king. “Two pair, aces and kings,” he announced. “Jack kicker.”

Paul’s face went slack with shock. At the velvet rope, something like approval flickered across Ty’s even, model-handsome features, and he gave a very faint nod. The chips seemed to shiver on the felt, as if whatever power that had been controlling them was suddenly uncertain.

“Hand to seat three,” the dealer announced, pushing the massive pot toward Caleb. “Player in seat two is eliminated.”

As Paul stood, looking slightly dazed, Caleb noticed how Ty’s attention had sharpened. For the briefest second, it almost seemed as if a faint glow surrounded the man, but then it disappeared as if it had never been there at all.

Maybe all the stress was making him imagine things.

Paul paused by Caleb’s chair. “Good hand,” he said, but his tone suggested anything but congratulations. “Watch yourself. Some of us don’t like surprises.”

“No surprises here,” Caleb replied evenly. “Just poker.”

But as Paul walked away, Caleb saw him exchange a look with the Hispanic man who’d been watching Delia, a glance that seemed heavy with meaning.

Meanwhile, Ty Carter had shifted position again, placing himself where he could see both the table and the two men who’d just shared some sort of silent communication.

Whatever game they were playing, it wasn’t just poker anymore — and Caleb had a feeling the real stakes were just beginning to show themselves.

Margaret Howard was already focused on the next hand, but Dave Wheeler was watching the crowd with knowing eyes. Maybe Caleb wasn’t the only one who’d noticed something odd about this tournament.

He looked over at Delia again, relieved to see that she seemed unaware of the undercurrents swirling around the table.

Better that way. He had enough to worry about without trying to explain why some of his fellow players seemed to be operating under supernatural influences — or why Ty Carter, who’d dropped out early, was watching him with the intensity of an avenging angel.

The dealer began shuffling for the next hand, but Caleb’s attention was divided now between the cards and the complex web of supernatural forces gathering around the tournament.

He’d made it to the final qualifying round by playing it straight, but he had a feeling the real challenge wasn’t going to be poker at all.

Despite being a native of Las Vegas, Delia had never had much interest in poker.

Sure, she’d play blackjack every once in a while if her date was so inclined or if some of her relatives from Chicago were visiting town and wanted to spend some time at the casinos.

But she’d never learned the rules of Texas Hold ’Em, which meant most of what she was watching was arcane at best and incomprehensible at the worst.

She wasn’t here to track all the various ins and outs and ups and downs of the game, though. No, she’d come here to support Caleb, and it didn’t really matter if she couldn’t understand everything that was happening at his table.

However, even a person as clueless as she was could see that he’d won the first hand. His dark eyes, bright with triumph, met her gaze for a moment, and she smiled back at him and flashed a thumbs-up to show her happiness at his victory.

Now he’d just have to do that enough times to make it to the quarterfinals.

The dealer began shuffling her cards again and placed two in front of the three remaining players.

From this angle, Delia couldn’t see what Caleb had been dealt, and since his features remained utterly impassive, it was impossible to tell whether he’d been given something he could actually work with or whether he was just maintaining a cool facade so the other players would have no idea what was going on in his mind.

In a way, it was sort of odd to see him looking so stoic, because most of the time, his emotions were easy to read, his face animated, those cola-hued eyes full of energy and life.

She knew she liked him better when he was being himself.

“Delia?” said a startled voice just then, and she looked up in shock.

“Aaron?” she responded, knowing she sounded just as surprised. “What’re you doing here?”

Even as the words left her mouth, she wondered if they sounded too much like an accusation, as though she was implying he’d been stalking her or something by being here.

But it was a public place, after all, and she knew the event had been advertised on local television, so it wasn’t as if no one knew about it.

Aaron Sanchez smiled. Today he wore a loose black camp shirt over a pair of jeans and looked much more relaxed than he had when she’d seen him in his work attire of a dress shirt and slacks only a few days earlier.

“Oh, a friend of mine is playing,” he replied, then pointed to a man who looked like he might be in his mid-thirties, fair-haired and just as poker-faced as Caleb, sitting at the farthest table.

“Since I didn’t have any house showings this afternoon, I thought I’d drop by and see how he was doing.

” Aaron paused there, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly. “How about you?”

“The same,” she said, and inclined her head toward Caleb’s table, although she didn’t elaborate which of the players was her friend. Aaron would probably be able to guess, but still, she didn’t see the need to reveal all to someone she barely knew.

Even if she had agreed to have drinks with him tomorrow night.

“So I guess these were the ‘plans’ you mentioned?” he continued, then glanced down at his watch.

The meaning was clear enough. She’d declined a date that probably wouldn’t have started until six-thirty at the very earliest, but this round of the tournament would be over long before then.

“Yes,” Delia said calmly. Even though she knew she didn’t owe Aaron any explanations, she figured it couldn’t hurt to add, “We’d already decided to go out to eat after today’s rounds were over.”

To her relief, he didn’t challenge her on the comment. “Makes sense,” he said.

A round of clapping interrupted them, and she looked over to see another player getting up from Caleb’s table.

Now it was just him and an intense-looking woman with gray hair in a pixie cut that wouldn’t have worked on most people, but perfectly complemented her high cheekbones and strong brows.

She sort of reminded Delia of her junior high P.E.

teacher, and she wondered with some amusement if the woman would pull out a whistle and blow hard on it if Caleb made a move she didn’t like.

Nothing like that happened, of course. No, the piles of chips in front of both players grew incrementally taller, and even though what Delia knew about Texas Hold ’Em could probably fit in her shoe, she got the feeling that both competitors were pretty evenly matched.

In the past, Caleb probably would have employed some of his demonic abilities to ensure a win, but he’d sworn he wasn’t going to rely on anything except his brains in this competition.

He was smart, but he hadn’t been playing poker for very long. Would his sharp mind and good instincts be enough to squeak out a win?

Apparently, they were, because about five minutes later, the woman called, and Caleb revealed a flush, easily beating her three of a kind. She reached across the table to shake his hand, and he smiled at her, murmuring something that Delia couldn’t possibly hear over all the applause.

Some sort of congratulations, she assumed.

But a few minutes later — after he’d shaken hands with the others who’d made it through this round of the competition and would soon be his direct opponents — he came over to the spot where Delia was standing next to Aaron.

Caleb’s smile slipped just a little as he seemed to realize she wasn’t alone, but it was back full force when he stopped near them.

“Hi, there,” he said as he extended a hand. “I’m Caleb Lowe.”

“Aaron Sanchez,” Aaron replied easily. “I’m a friend of Delia’s — a fellow real estate agent.”

Those words seemed to make Caleb relax a little…or at least, he appeared to be glad that Aaron and Delia were work colleagues in a way, and that he wasn’t just some rando who’d approached her in the crowd because he thought she was attractive.

“Big into poker?” Caleb inquired, and at once, Aaron shook his head.

“Not really. I’m just here to provide moral support.

” He paused there and looked past Delia, toward the table where he’d said his friend had been playing.

“It looks like Bryce is going on to the next round, too, so I think I need to go offer my congratulations. Nice meeting you, Caleb.” Another hesitation, one so small, she almost missed it.

“And I’ll see you tomorrow night, Delia. ”

And then he was off, weaving his way through the crowd so he could go meet his friend.

As soon as Aaron was out of eyeshot, Caleb’s smile abruptly faded. “‘Tomorrow night’?” he echoed.

A flush heated Delia’s cheeks, and she found herself devoutly hoping that the lighting in the casino was dim enough that Caleb wouldn’t be able to see it.

“We’re meeting for drinks,” she said lightly.

“He wanted to take me to see Cirque du Soleil tonight, but I told him I already had plans.” She stopped there and gave her companion a piercing look.

While Caleb wasn’t quite as impassive as he’d been while he was playing poker, she still got the feeling that he was doing whatever he could to hide what was going on in his head.

“At least, I assumed we did. Or was it wrong to think you’d want to go out to eat after you were done here? ”

At once, the blank expression vanished, and Caleb sent her one of his signature smiles. “Oh, sure,” he replied at once. “Playing poker can really work up an appetite. Just give me a minute to check in with the competition officials, and then we can get out of here.”

“Sounds good.”

He wove his way through the crowd and paused to speak to a woman with highlighted hair who could have been anything between forty-five and sixty-five, thanks to her obvious Botox and plumped lips.

But he was back soon enough, saying, “Okay, I have my marching orders for next week, so I guess now all I need to do now is go out and have some fun.”

That sounded like a great idea to Delia. Nothing crazy, of course, but something about the air in the casino felt almost oppressive, as if it was carrying the burden of too many people hoping for a big win and couldn’t quite let it vent.

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”