The Man With the Money by Lynn Raye Harris

Author:Lynn Raye Harris
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: HP 2011-11 Nov
ISBN: 9780373130245
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-06-17T05:00:00+00:00

“I have a better idea,” he said as his eyes met hers again.

“What’s that?”

“We play for the clothes on our backs. Or we don’t play at all.”

Chapter Eight

Cara’s heart thundered in her ears. Strip poker. Could she do it? Because she knew what would happen if she lost.

Her body felt tight, achy, the tender area between her thighs melting, softening. Her body craved his so strongly it scared her. If they ended up in bed together, she didn’t know what would happen after, but she feared he would be finished with her. This lovely feeling she had when she was with him would die.

And she wasn’t ready for that to happen just yet.

Cara took a deep breath. But she wouldn’t lose. She had just as good a chance of winning as he did. Maybe better, because she’d played from the other side of the table for so long that she had an instinctive feel for how things would shake out.

“Fine,” she said. “We play for clothes.”

Jack smiled for the first time in hours. It was a devilish smile, a supremely confident smile. Warmth curled inside her belly, flooded her limbs.

“There’s only one problem,” she continued. “What’s that?”

“You’re wearing more clothes than I am. Either you spot me a couple of hands, or you count that jacket, shirt and tie as one item.”

He shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. “The shirt and tie count as one item.”

She tipped her chin to his waistline. “And the belt?”

“Goes with the pants.”

Cara picked up the deck of cards. If it got his mind off of what had just happened, if it gave her back the man she’d come to know, she’d risk it. “All right, then. I guess we’re on. If you pull one of those chairs over here, we can play at the desk.”

“The bed, Cara. It’s bigger.”

Her ears felt hot. Not from embarrassment, but from sensual overload. She wanted to play strip poker on a bed with this man. And she wanted to win, because she wanted to see that magnificent body again.

“Fine.” She picked up her champagne. “Let’s go.”

“After you.”

She led the way into the bedroom, set the champagne on the bedside table and kicked off her heels before climbing onto the bed. When she turned around, Jack was watching her, his eyes smoky with desire.

“We could just skip the cards,” he said, his deep voice vibrating over her nerve endings. “Save a whole lot of time and trouble.”

“On the bed, Jack. Get ready to lose your shirt.”

He slipped out of his shoes and socks, then got onto the bed opposite her. The center of the king-size bed was a good playing surface, if a little unorthodox. Cara shuffled the cards and Jack cut. Then she dealt with quick, practiced movements.

“I love watching your hands stroke those cards,” Jack said.

“No trying to distract the dealer,” she answered coolly. Then she picked up her hand.

She glanced at Jack—except that he was looking at her, as well. Both trying to gauge the other’s reaction for a clue to the hand they held.

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