Across the gaming table, a stack of chips fell, and a slightly drunken junior partner called out, “Let’s see you kiss her, Nick.”
His boss protested, but the rally cry of his colleagues grew louder. Five-hundred-dollar chips were tossed in his direction as his coworkers laid down odds on the length of the kiss, a few hashing out side bets should Nick fail to deliver. Hell, even Elvis sporting full jewel-encrusted attire and plenty of charisma got in on the action, breaking out in an off-key version of “A Little Less Conversation.”
What could he do?
As the cheers rained down, Nick held up his hands in mock surrender and turned toward Marianne. A shy smile edged across her features as his hands curved around her waist. He bent his head and whispered, “What’s the probability of me kissing you in front of all these people?”
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Well, given that’s it’s for such a good cause, I’d say the event-to-outcome ratio is 100 percent.”
Just what he needed to hear.
Nick took her face into his hands, brushed his thumb across her already pink cheek and kissed her, forgetting all about the chips and the wager. Hell, the whole partnership event was a memory, distant to the feel of her in his arms. Her lips parted, and his tongue dipped inside. She tasted like some sweet pineapple and rum concoction, tropical and exotic, a far cry from prim and proper. He felt no boundaries, temporary or otherwise, no barriers at all, save the edge of the table. All he wanted was to continue being lost in her kiss.
Without a thought in his head, he pressed her back against the table’s green felt edge, eager to continue his pursuit of her mouth, the incredible feel of her, the luscious taste. No doubt about it now—she was his cake girl. And if he had his way later tonight, he’d show her how much she thrilled him. A stack of chips scattered onto the table, but who cared about blackjack? Nick didn’t care about anything except kissing this woman.
As for the rest of it…
Let the chips fall where they may.
The dealer cleared his throat. Nick broke the kiss slowly, unconcerned that half the partnership was staring. Hell, the other half was cheering, and he didn’t mind that, either. He pulled back another inch and grinned down at her, dazed and pretty, her new glasses askew. Funny how he’d never considered glasses sexy before. But on Marianne, it all worked. His smile deepened, and he reached out to straighten the damn things.
Nick knew he should move away, say their goodbyes, call it a night. Instead, he kept looking at her, his brain circling around the same three thoughts. One, he was engaged to a woman whose kiss had him thinking about sleepovers and back-to-back dates during football season. Two, the success of his entire career depended on her—at least for the next six weeks. And three, the woman had secrets.
Card-counting, cake-jumping, potentially, career-busting secrets.
And for some damned reason, he was still thinking sleepovers.
Chapter Nine
“The body is meant to be seen, not all covered up.”
—Marilyn Monroe
That kiss.
Tucked into the corner of the living room’s leather sectional, Marianne flipped through the massive, swirling universe of late night television in search of a classic movie, anything to keep from dwelling on the sweetness of Nick’s lips on hers. She’d made a beeline for the bedroom after the party, but now she couldn’t sleep—again—so she was channel-surfing in the living room.
She’d wanted a Marilyn movie, but since Nick didn’t get the classic film channel, she’d have to settle for The Big Bang Theory or a midnight viewing of Body Heat. Wicked. Seductive. In line with her goal of becoming more sexually adventurous.#p#分页标题#e#
She clicked on the film and tried not to think too much about the man on the pullout next door, all sleepy-eyed and naked. She swallowed hard, certain Nick slept naked. She snuck a peek at the door to his office.
Gloriously naked. She shoved aside an impulse to renegotiate the no sex inside the relationship part of their deal and settled against the buttery soft leather couch, determined to relax. Ever since her father’s incarceration, she’d been unable to sleep. Ambien. Lunesta. Chardonnay. Nothing seemed to keep her thoughts from racing. Certainly knowing her fiancé was naked a few feet away didn’t help. At least she had popcorn for a distraction. She ripped open the bag.
“Are you an insomniac as well as a card shark?”
Marianne drew in a startled breath, and her hands flew to her heart, sending popcorn flying into the air. A self-conscious laugh bubbled up from her chest. “You scared me.”