Interesting. She’d been bold and stepped up her game with the nightgown, but he was holding back, playing it cool and casual and attorney-like. Like she was about to get busted.
Smoothing out the line of her nightie with her palm, she looked over at him and feigned innocence. “I don’t count cards.”
Another smile. “Honey, you ran the table like a Monte Carlo showgirl conning the sharks out of their cash. Don’t pretend you didn’t read the cards.”
Honey? Oh, he was angling for information, all right, but she took the bait and tilted closer, drawn into the orbit of his smile, unable to deny the thrill of an endearment on his lips. “I was not like some sexy Monte Carlo showgirl.”
He slipped a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth and chewed. Her gaze locked onto his lips. “But you were reading the cards.” The don’t-even-try-to-play look on his face made her bare toes curl into the soft leather cushions. “C’mon, tell me your secrets.”
“My secrets?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t keep secrets.”
“No?” For a long moment he held her eyes, one corner of his lips pulled up in mischief.
“Tell me your secrets,” he said in a voice that turned her inside out. “All your secrets.”
No sense even trying to resist the pull of that voice, not when he was talking about secrets and sitting so close and wearing low-riders she wanted to ease off with her teeth. The confession tumbled out of her in a rush. “I counted the cards.”
Nick made a victorious sound at the back of his throat and pointed at her with the popcorn bag. “I knew it.”
She snuggled deeper into the cushions. “There’s nothing sexy about counting cards.”
“A girl who can count cards—are you kidding me?” He dropped another smile on her and tossed the bag onto the coffee table. “Sexier than a showgirl.” Empty now, his hands moved along the edge of the cushion, inches away from the hem of her nightgown. “Any other equally hot secrets?”#p#分页标题#e#
“I told you I don’t keep secrets.”
He looped a strand of her hair around his index finger and tilted forward until he was close enough to whisper. “Are you sure about that, Cake Girl?” Her eyes widened as his gaze took a southern detour from her lips. “Whisper ‘Happy Birthday’ in my ear.” He reached for the half-tied strap at her neckline and tugged her forward. “I dare you.”
She shook her head. “I never played Truth or Dare.”
“Well, then, let me teach you.”
With a smile that in all probability was going to cost her way more than her secrets, he inched even closer, his perfectly shaped mouth just a breath away. “Truth or dare, you are the girl who jumped out of my birthday cake in that silver dress.”
“But the movie…” she said in a low, husky voice.
“Truth or dare.”
Eyes locked onto his, a dizzying buzz ran through her system, and she dared to whisper, “Truth.”
“You want to kiss me again. Truth or dare?”
Tell him the truth, her inner temptress beckoned, tell him the truth. “Better take the dare.”
In a movement so sweet, so seductively tender, she almost forgot about the game as he brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. “I dare you to kiss me.”
The challenge in his voice made her dizzier still, and a play-by-the-rules kind of girl, she offered up a brief kiss—enough to satisfy his dare, but no more than his birthday kiss.
His eyes half closed, his lips clung to hers, unwilling to let go. “God, you are so sexy.”
She shook her head in slow, heartfelt denial. “I’m so not sexy.”
“Marianne, I don’t know why you feel that way, but I could not disagree more.” He bent to kiss the edge of her collarbone, and the feel of his lips on her skin sent her senses reeling way past probabilities and correlations. “Why did you run from my birthday party?” His gaze sought hers, and she looked into his midnight blue eyes. “Didn’t you know how badly I wanted to kiss you again? The girl in the cake, the perfect birthday gift.”
Any second the spell would end, but until then, she breathed in the warmth of his skin, his deep, masculine scent, as fresh and thrilling as Central Park in spring. “I don’t know…maybe I thought if you knew it was me, the ‘quintessential good girl,’ you wouldn’t want me.” There. She’d said it. Her emotional moment of truth.
“Oh honey, trust me, I want you.” His hands reached up to frame her face, and his mouth moved toward her lips to kiss her. The kind of kiss she’d wanted all along. She didn’t move. She didn’t think she was breathing. She was simply suspended in the moment, waiting for his kiss, knowing that this kiss would change everything. Maybe not for Nick, but for her. And she wanted it, wanted it more than anything. Her lips parted in an invitation he readily accepted, diving in to kiss her, gently at first, increasing the depth and pressure with each soft moan of encouragement.