“I did. But our relationship has already ended, so what’s the harm?” His gaze warmed when he added, “Or maybe it’ll have the opposite effect and we’ll end up sharing a bed while you’re here.”
A startled laugh emerged from her throat. It was part he’s insane and a sliver of how fun does that sound? The latter scared her more than a little.
“More wine before we start?” he asked as if he hadn’t casually mentioned them sharing a bed.
“Water.” No way was she drinking more alcohol tonight given the dangerous bend of her thoughts.
He returned from the kitchen with two bottles of water, sat down and raised his eyebrows. “What do you think?”
What did she think? All sorts of interesting, steamy, forbidden thoughts rolled around in her head. Chase. Hot, thirty-six-year-old Chase. With that smooth voice and slow hands—an attribute she recalled too clearly. He knew how to take his time. He’d been able to draw her to the brink of orgasm and let her linger there until she begged for release. Even at the tender age of twenty-three, she’d known that the sex was unparalleled. And when she’d ventured into dating a year later, she learned she was right. No one that she’d dated or slept with held a candle to the man sitting across from her bathed in firelight.
What tricks had he learned since then? A delicious shiver trickled down her spine.
“Scared?” he asked, mistaking her shudder of pleasure.
Terrified. Not of him but of her lack of willpower where he was concerned.
“Don’t be,” he continued. “I haven’t played in years. You’ll probably own my ass faster than I can say Marvin Gardens.”
The game! Right. Not sex. She snapped the lid off her water and drank a few guzzles.
“If you’re sure you can take me,” she told him. “Bring it.”
* * *
An hour and a half later, it was clear that she was going to lose.
Chase had monopolies with hotels on the scariest properties—not the blue ones. Park Place and Boardwalk were the obvious choices because of their price tags, but that wasn’t how you won the game. No, the way to won was to buy up the yellow, orange and magenta properties so that in between the jail square and the go-to-jail square you would be fined into bankruptcy. Even owning all of the utilities and two railroads couldn’t get her out of this mess.
“You’re about to forfeit,” he pointed out. “I can tell by the crease right there.” He leaned forward and pressed the pad of his finger into the dent between her eyebrows. She slapped his hand away.
He was sitting on the couch at the long side of the coffee table and she’d sat opposite him on a big square cushion. Her dwindling pastel-colored dollars didn’t inspire hope, but as far as forfeiting...
“Never.” She narrowed her eyes and he grinned.
“Very well.” He set the dice on the board without rolling his turn and purchased several more houses. Then he rolled and landed on Boardwalk, a property he already owned.
Miriam was in “jail” and rolled for the third time, trying for doubles so she didn’t have to pay the precious fifty-dollar fine to leave. She didn’t want out. Not with all those plastic houses and hotels Chase had built that were waiting to empty her bank account. If she rolled two fives, she could not only get out of jail free, but rest on Free Parking for a breather. And win the money in the middle—only forty dollars, but every little bit helped.
But fate was not smiling on the less fortunate today. She landed on Tennessee Avenue, the property where Chase had just added another house.
“Game.” He remained where he was, elbows on his knees and awaited her concession.
“Game,” she said through her teeth.
He started filing away his money and she did the same, which took her a lot less time than it took him since she had so very little of it. By the time she was sweeping the houses off the board, she could feel the frown between her eyes deepen.
A low chuckle punctuated the air.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” He licked his lips as he helped organize the cards into stacks. “You’re not a gracious loser, Mimi.”
“No one likes to lose, Chase.” Some of the fire went out of her voice, though. He looked genuinely relaxed and happy and it was hard not to replicate his mood. It was obvious from the faint lines between his dark eyebrows that he typically worried more than he relaxed.
Game boxed, he stood and put it away. When he paced back, he offered a hand to help her off the cushion on the floor. She accepted, his warm fingers curling around hers and making other parts of her warm, as well. Naughty, tingly parts. Oft-ignored parts.
She tugged her hand away and he tossed the square cushion she’d been sitting on onto the chair.