“Who’s counting?”
“He is. When he skipped over his wedding anniversary two years ago, his wife never let him forget it.”
“No, Angus is out of the picture. But listen, I overheard Jordan joking with some Razors about you being his biggest challenge yet.”
Well, she was. Or did Jordan mean she was just another conquest? It was an ambiguous statement, but the fact that he’d been joking with his teammates when he’d said it wasn’t a good sign.
“Right before that, I heard Jordan tell Marc Bellitti that appearances can be deceiving.”
Hadn’t she thought the same thing about Jordan recently? She’d discovered he volunteered with a children’s charity. And she’d been basking in the realization that he wasn’t quite the player she’d thought he was. “In what context did he say this?”
“To be honest, Marc was ragging Jordan about being hung up on you.”
Even Jordan’s teammates were onto them? She strove to keep her voice neutral—bored even. “I’ve been a waitress at the Puck & Shoot. I’ve heard it all. They were probably just shooting the breeze.”
“Jordan and Matt had a bet—”
“Players often do.”
“—that he couldn’t seduce you. Or, uh, to be more precise, make you ‘melt.’”
She froze. It was like Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, and she knew what her role was. Her lips tightened. Yes, she was pissed off. But she was going to hold her fire and question Jordan at the appropriate time. Have him explain himself. If he could.
She sighed, conceding her brother’s good intentions in telling her all this. “Thanks, Dante.” She watched a cloud pass in front of the sun, darkening the inside of her car. “I owe you.” Poor Sera, saved by her family again.
Surprisingly, though, she didn’t get an immediate wisecrack from Dante. Instead, her brother matched her tone of resignation. “What are siblings for? Anyway, these days, you’ve been coming to my aid just as much. More, actually.”
Dante’s words were almost enough to bring a smile to her face. Because he was right—and there was the small silver lining to her current predicament.
* * *
She was a mature and intelligent woman. Or so Sera kept reminding herself.
In the days since speaking with her brother, she’d come up with a plan—once she was done being miffed. She was willing to give Jordan the benefit of the doubt. After all, she’d witnessed plenty of ribbing banter while waitressing at the Puck & Shoot, just as she’d told Dante. The best strategy might be to beat Jordan and his buddies at their own game.
Could it have been only a week since Constance and Oliver’s wedding? So much had happened, including the buildup of sexual frustration. Work and other commitments had kept her and Jordan apart except for physical therapy, and then Dante’s news had led her to bide her time until tonight, when Jordan had suggested dinner out at Altavista.
She and Jordan had been served wine but had yet to order their meal. Time to have a little fun.
She leaned close, drawing Jordan’s attention, so she could keep her voice low. “I’ve been thinking all week about Saturday night.”
Jordan’s eyes kindled. “What a coincidence. So have I.”
“Hmm.” And not just so he could claim to have won a stupid bet?
“I don’t want to rush you, but, yeah—” the corner of his mouth turned up “—I’ve wanted a repeat.”
She dipped the top of her finger into the top of her wineglass and then, without breaking eye contact, brought that finger to her lips.
Jordan swallowed, his throat working.
She knew him well enough now to recognize the flare of arousal. They occupied a cozy corner table for two, where they could engage in semipublic flirtation without attracting too much attention. She wanted to have some fun while she made him eat his words.
Deliberately, she let her leg brush against his. Her wrap dress clung to her breasts, and she leaned forward, knowing her cleavage would be on full display. “I want to make you melt.”
“Sera,” he said in a low voice, his gaze kindling, “the appetizer hasn’t even arrived, and you’re—”
“Ready for dessert?” She trailed the wine-stained finger from her collarbone to the swell of her breasts.