Big easy secrets, p.10
Big Easy Secrets, page 10
She didn’t even bother showing her cards but tossed them into the pile in the center of the table. Reaching down, she pulled off the sandal on her right foot and added it.
Everything inside her wanted to wipe the satisfied smirk off Jameson’s face. And she wasn’t above cheating...she simply needed to get her hands on the deck in order to do it.
Her brain was spinning on what argument she could use when he provided her the perfect opportunity.
“This would be more interesting if the stakes were higher.”
A thrill of adrenaline shot through her system. “Agreed. Clearly, you have a suggestion.”
“Why don’t we bet like we normally would...only use the number of items we’re willing to lose instead of chips.”
Kinley scanned Jameson’s body. The warm weather didn’t exactly lend itself to layers of clothing, so neither of them had a lot to wager. However, as she silently counted the articles of clothing she could see, Kinley realized she probably had on more. And held the advantage.
“Sure, but I think the dealer should swap back and forth. And if you fold, you lose whatever you’ve wagered up to that point.”
“Makes sense to me.”
Slowly, Jameson picked her sandal up from the middle of the table. He ran his thumb slowly along the leather strap, never breaking eye contact with her the entire time. Mischief and promise smoldered deep in his eyes and for some reason Kinley’s body reacted as if he was stroking her instead of her shoe.
Jerking her gaze to the table, Kinley concentrated on gathering the cards—and the shreds of her composure. She might not have the fancy shuffling skills he did, but she handled the deck with skill and efficiency.
Her father had taught her a few useful things, like how to fly under the radar and make the cards you wanted pop from the deck. He’d expected her to go undetected, which was the opposite of the showboating Jameson had done during his turn.
She’d lost the first hand; there was no way she would lose the next.
With the intention of distracting him, she casually mentioned, “My head is fine, by the way. I don’t even have a headache anymore. No concussion.”
His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t be lying in order to avoid me, would you?”
Kinley grimaced. “I’m with you right now. And, no.”
Slowly, Jameson nodded. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
At least she’d dodged that bullet.
Dealing herself a pair of pocket jacks, she made sure to give Jameson something equally as enticing—an ace and king. Now that they were wagering, she didn’t want him to fold and take the deal back because he didn’t have anything worth playing in his hand.
Before turning any cards faceup, Kinley said, “Your bet.” And he fell straight into her trap by betting, “One.”
Kinley pulled up the corner of her cards—as if she couldn’t remember what they were—and said, “Call.”
She turned three cards—the flop—an ace, a three and a seven. He didn’t even wait for her to ask before saying, “One.”
She also didn’t hesitate. “Call.”
The fourth card—the turn—didn’t do either of them any good with a ten. However, that didn’t stop him from betting. “One.” Or her accepting by calling.
They were both up to three pieces of clothing and Kinley knew exactly which one of them would win this hand. Flipping the last card—the river—she revealed a third jack. The cards on the table were unassuming, designed to give him the impression that she might also be holding one pair with an ace in her hand, but the hope that his kicker would beat hers.
She’d dealt the hand purposely, not to give him something that left him overly confident, but also with a minor probability that she had something big in her own hand. So she was surprised when he checked instead of betting.
And rather than push her luck to the point of making him question whether the hand had been fairly dealt, she checked as well. Together, they turned their cards.
Jameson’s eyes narrowed when he saw her three jacks. “Lucky river.”
Kinley shrugged. “That’s part of the game. I believe you owe me three.”
Standing up, Jameson towered over the table. His wide shoulders blocked out the soft yellow light from the sconces on the wall and cast half of his body in shadow.
She hadn’t realized just how quiet and dark it had become. How suddenly alone she felt. Alone except for the man across from her.
Bending, he slipped both shoes off his feet and deliberately placed them on the table between them. He watched her, his gaze contemplative. She was afraid those pale green eyes, so intelligent, saw right through her. She was good, but maybe he’d spotted the stacked deck somehow.
Walking around the table, Jameson grabbed the top button of his shirt and popped it free. Slowly, he circled around until he was standing just beside her. Kinley’s fingers, resting on the arm of the chair, dangled inches away from his hip. Need blasted through her as she turned to stare up at him.
Her throat was dry. Kinley wanted to say something, but nothing coherent formed in her brain. Which was entirely frustrating. She forced down a swallow, hoping to relieve the scratchy sensation as he popped the rest of the buttons through their holes, one by one.
The sides of his shirt gaped open. The solid expanse of his belly was right there. She could touch him. Lean forward and run her tongue along his skin and taste the salty perfection of him.
Her grip tightened on the arms of her chair, the whine of protesting wood giving her away.
Slowly, Jameson slipped the shirt from his wide shoulders and let the piece of clothing flutter to the deck.
“My deal.”
* * *
Jameson couldn’t decide if he was irritated at losing most of his clothing in one hand or thrilled at the prospect of getting some of Kinley’s clothes off during the next.
Probably both.
Cards in his hands, he dealt hole cards for them both. Peeling up the corners, he revealed a pair of pocket queens. “I suppose I’m all in,” he said with a small shrug.
His shorts were the last thing on so this hand was all or nothing. He was working at a clear disadvantage. Something that had never bothered him before and wasn’t about to now. His entire life had been a disadvantage, foster home after foster home. The person he’d been closest to betraying him when he’d needed someone most.
These odds were nothing.
Kinley, a smug grin twisting her luscious lips, gave a little shrug of her own and said, “Call.”
Slowly, Jameson turned the flop and revealed a two, king and ten, all of different suits. Nothing much helpful. Jameson flicked the corner of the next card before turning it. “Queen of hearts.” Somehow it felt a little appropriate.
An ace landed last. Probably no help to either of them. It was possible she held a high pair if she had an ace or king in her hand. Jameson watched her, studying her mannerisms, trying to discern what she held.
Poker was as much a game of observation as it was of luck. Kinley might not think she had any tells, but she really did. Or maybe he was just so attuned to her right now that he noticed the smallest of details.
The last hand, when she knew that she had him over a barrel—not that he’d known it at the time—she’d tried not to show it. Her mouth had gone perfectly flat, a straight line that wasn’t natural. She was careful not to let the tiny edges curl up into the smile she always carried with her. But she also didn’t give in to a frown or let the ridge between her eyes wrinkle. Her expression had gone too...perfect and plastic.
A word he’d never use to describe Kinley Sullivan. She was alive, animated. She might try to blend in, but no matter what, she stood out. Tall and gorgeous, it wasn’t just her physical features, but her presence. Confident, uncaring, observant and intelligent. Along with beautiful, a deadly combination.
Last hand, she’d worked hard to become a blank slate so as not to reveal her winning hand. This time, her lips curled up...a little too much. She wanted to look happy about what she held, but the expression wasn’t real. It was forced.
She had nothing. Which meant he had the power position.
“How about we add a little more to sweeten the pot?”
Kinley’s eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down.
This was where the skill of the game came in. He knew she held nothing. If he pushed too hard, she’d simply fold her hand and give him her shoe.
He wanted more than that. Excitement and possibility teased him. Sitting half-naked in front of her, he wanted her half-naked—no, totally exposed—as well.
He’d always been a man to gamble. Maybe not with money, but with actions. Hell, no hacker worth anything could be faint of heart. It took guts to risk what they did.
“What did you have in mind? You don’t have any more clothes to offer.”
She was hooked; now he had to weigh things out, offer her something she couldn’t refuse. Something she wanted more than anything.
“Considering you’ve already seen me naked, losing my shorts really isn’t going to be much of a victory, is it?”
Jameson did not miss the way her body shifted at the reminder of their night together. Uncomfortable, but not because she regretted anything. No, he could clearly see the signs of desire she tried to hide.
The peak of her nipples against the soft material of her shirt. The color staining her cheeks and running down her throat and chest. Her own arousal only served to needle his.
The physical signs she couldn’t hide said she was interested in more of what they’d shared last night. But until she voiced that or showed him with purposeful action, Jameson had no intention of doing anything about it.
Desire and choice were two different things.
“No, I suppose it isn’t,” Kinley responded, although her words were a little unsteady. “Stop playing and just tell me the bet.”
“An hour with a computer.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Two.”
“Agreed, in exchange for your shirt and shorts.”
Kinley shook her head. “In exchange for three pieces of clothing—the one already on the table and two more—all of my choosing.”
Jameson took a visual account of what she wore. She’d already lost a sandal so she had one more to match. A shirt and shorts. Whatever she was wearing beneath those. He tried not to think about that because it would cloud his judgment.
Like him, she wasn’t exactly dressed for a blizzard. Either way, she’d lose a couple of strategic pieces.
“Agreed.” Indicating the cards, he silently asked her to roll them, and was surprised to see a two and a ten. No wonder she’d agreed, she held two pair. Not a terrible hand, but still a risk considering the ace and king on the table.
The vein at the side of her neck pulsed with her quickened heartbeat. Jameson fought the urge to lean over and lick it. She tilted forward over the table, anticipation and adrenaline as she waited to discover her fate.
Slowly, Jameson pressed up from the table, cards still in hand. A small smirk played at the corner of his lips as he tossed his cards onto the table. “Three queens. I believe it’s your turn to take a few things off.”
With a groan and a grimace, Kinley plopped into her chair. “Dang it.”
But she didn’t protest or hesitate. Instead, she popped the buckle on her sandal before depositing it onto the table. Reaching for the hem, in one fluid motion, her shirt joined the shoe.
Had she worn that bra purposely to torment him? Pale blue lace, it was practically transparent. The swirls were strategically placed to cover her pointed nipples, but that did nothing to stop his memory of licking, tasting and sucking her breasts deep into his mouth. His tongue tingled with the need to do it all again.
Instead, he stood still and drank in the sight of her. The table between them, Kinley cocked her head as she popped the button on her white shorts. The sound of metal against metal ripped through the room as the zipper went down. She held his gaze, those bright blue eyes almost daring him, as she rolled her hips. The shorts hit the deck with a smack.
Kinley stepped backward, leaned down to scoop them up and then tossed the shorts. Not onto the table with the other things, but straight at his head.
Jameson snatched them out of the air before they could hit him in the face. “Such a sore loser,” he murmured.
Kinley crossed the deck, head high and a fierce twinkle of determination in her eyes. Gathering the cards, she didn’t bother sitting as she shuffled. Her hands were quick as the cards settled onto the slick surface. Jameson glanced at his cards, seeing a ten and jack of diamonds.
He waited for the flop, a four, king of diamonds, ten. He had a pair, and a potential for a flush, although he’d played enough poker in his life to know better than to chase something with such terrible odds.
“You’re already in for your shorts.”
“And you’re in for a bra or panties.”
“Same bet as before? Your clothes and a computer against the rest of mine?”
Jameson’s gaze traveled over Kinley’s body. She stood, golden light spilling across her, gilding her bronzed skin. She was gorgeous. Fierce. And Jameson wanted nothing more than to take her clothes off. To enjoy exploring every inch of her delicious body once more.
But something about the way she stood, feet wide, hands relaxed at her sides, warned that he needed to move with caution. She seemed too confident.
And Jameson wasn’t willing to take the chance.
Pushing his cards into the center of the table, he popped the tie on his shorts and dropped them to the deck. He hadn’t bothered with anything beneath them, which she’d apparently already suspected.
With a shrug, Jameson said, “Not willing to risk that bet. You win,” and plopped into his chair.
Kinley stared at him for several seconds, her eyes sharp as they toured his body. His sex responded as her gaze lingered there, hardening and lengthening beneath her watch.
The long, elegant column of her throat worked as she swallowed. The tiny point of her tongue swept out over her dark pink lips, leaving behind a trail of moisture. He wanted to follow her tongue with a swipe of his own.
Instead, he curled his hands around the arms of the chair and waited.
Ball was in her court.
And he had to admit to serious disappointment when she spun on her heel and fled from the deck.
Ten
Blood whooshed audibly in Kinley’s ears. The insistent thump of it centered right between her thighs, an uncomfortable reminder of just how precarious a hold she had over her own body. Everything inside urged her to turn around, walk onto that deck and take exactly what she wanted.
And what she wanted was Jameson Neally.
But she couldn’t let herself do that.
Winning should be sweet, even if she had cheated. But there was nothing sweet about this victory. Her body ached and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what was important and what wasn’t. Or why wanting Jameson was a bad idea.
That night, Kinley tossed and turned, plagued by vivid and difficult dreams. Her subconscious fought against her resolve, leaving her unfulfilled and on edge when she woke.
She was set for another lonely, unproductive morning of staring across an empty ocean, her mind and body unhappy with the inactivity. But Jameson had other ideas.
The sun had barely risen above the horizon when he joined her on the deck. A pleasant breeze whispered softly against her skin. The chill was enough that Kinley wished she’d grabbed a light jacket before leaving her cabin.
Hands wrapped around a cup, steam rising from the dark liquid inside, Jameson stopped beside her. His long, lean body curled over the railing. They stood together, and somehow, in the quiet stillness of the morning, Kinley found a moment of peace.
Gone was the animosity, antagonism and uncomfortable awareness that usually filled her when he was close. Taking a deep breath, she let it settle over her, accepting the gift of it for however long it lasted. Surprised to experience it with Jameson standing beside her.
Finally, after a few minutes, Jameson said, “Truce.”
The single word made her lips curl into an unexpected smile.
Turning her back to the railing, her own answer was a lifted eyebrow.
“You and I have been playing games for so long I think maybe we don’t know how to deal with each other not as adversaries.”
It was possible he had a point, but she wasn’t ready to agree that they weren’t adversaries. “You’ve been tracking me for over a year, Jameson. In most circumstances that would be a crime called stalking.”
He had the forethought to look chagrined, which honestly surprised her. “You’re right. I’ll admit to doing it because your brother asked me to keep an eye on you.”
Of course he had. She still wasn’t comfortable with her half brother’s motives. How could he possibly forgive her for ruining his life? Hell, her actions had sent the man to prison for ten years.
“But it wasn’t long before I was watching not because I needed to, but because I wanted to.”
Kinley’s other eyebrow joined its twin. Now that was unexpected.
“You’re brilliant and a challenge. I’m damn good at what I do and I can count on one hand the number of people who can outmaneuver me.”
Her burst of laughter shot between them. “Thanks. I think.”
“I have the utmost respect for you, Kinley. Not only are you good at what you do, but you’re a good person. And considering the life you were raised in and the life your circumstances thrust you into, not many people would choose the path you’ve taken.”
Jameson’s own laughter held an edge of self-deprecation. “I know all too well how easy it is to skirt the edge of morality. To push just a little too far into the gray until your actions become tinged with black.”
