A REASON FOR MARRIAGE

But the next hand played out rapidly. The first clue she had that she’d lost was Simon’s smug smile. Her gaze dropped to the cards. Two pair beat one pair. Damn.

“The dress, Sara,” Simon said.

She thought about insisting on removing her panties instead-because at least she would have the coverage of the dress to protect her. But what if she lost another round? She couldn’t get her bra off without removing the dress, so that would mean the dress would be next and she’d be sitting here in nothing but a bra.

Heat spread through her, permeating her bones, her blood, every cell of her body. But was it the heat of embarrassment or sexual heat?

She didn’t know, but she shoved herself onto her knees and grasped the hem of her dress. Nothing left but to brazen it out. Because she wouldn’t renege on a bet. Slowly, she peeled the dress upward, revealing her thighs, her belly, her breasts, before pulling it over her head and dropping it onto the bed.

Simon’s eyes had darkened to pewter as he watched her. She knew what he was seeing. The white silk of her panties was thin, and the lacy demi cups of her bra barely held her breasts in whenever she leaned forward. Her nipples had tightened some time ago. She had no doubt Simon could see the hard little bumps through the silk.

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“Hardly.”

“I believe it’s my turn to deal again,” she said.

She gathered the cards, leaning forward just enough to make him think her breasts were about to pop free. It was a cheap shot to distract him, but she didn’t care. Simon wasn’t going to give her any quarter; she needed to be as ruthless as he was.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything as sexy as a woman dealing cards in her underwear before,” he said, his voice deep and husky with desire.

She looked up, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity of his stare.

“I’m surprised,” she replied. “I would have imagined you’d played this game quite often.”

“No, I haven’t” he said simply.

“Too bad for you then,” she said crisply. “Now pay attention to the game and stop trying to distract me with sex.” She shuffled the cards and handed him the deck to cut. “I’m not going to be so easy to beat.”

Simon actually tsked as he cut the cards. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Sara?”

“Figured out what?” She took them back and swiftly dealt the next hand.

“That I never lose.”

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The next several hands passed with nothing happening, each one ending in a stalemate as one or the other of them folded. Simon got up from the bed. She watched his retreating back as he walked out into the living area, the way the muscles rippled and bunched as he moved.

When he returned with the champagne bottle, she forced herself not to stare. It was important to keep playing, and just as important to keep the rest of her clothes on. Simon had lightened up considerably since they’d started. She didn’t fool herself that he’d forgotten about what was bothering him hours ago. He’d merely shoved it to the back of his mind while he worked to beat the clothes off her body.

But he seemed happier, seemed like the Simom she’d come to know and love, and she liked that he wasn’t brooding any longer. She knew something was on his mind and she wanted to know what it was l. She intended to ask him after the game. Maybe now that he was in a better mood, he’d tell her.

Simon sat down and picked up the cards. It was his turn to deal the next hand, which he did with efficient movements. Sara’s pulse kicked higher at the three aces she held. Simon tossed down three cards. Sweat beaded her upper lip as she picked up the two cards he dealt her. Relief surged through her: two sevens.

“What do you say, Sara?” Simon asked. “Your bra against my trousers- or do you want to fold and preserve your dignity?”

Sara thrust her chin out. “Show me your hand, Simon.”

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

When his cards hit the bed, she let out a shaky breath.

“Oh, Simon,” she said, laying her cards down oh so slowly, “I’m looking forward to seeing your legs again. Get to stripping, darling.” She couldn’t stop the smug grin that popped into place.

Simon lifted an eyebrow, gave her a quelling look. “So the kitten has claws, I see. Nicely done.”

Then he stood and slipped open his belt. The sweat on her upper lip didn’t abate. Though she was sitting on a bed in her underwear, her body was burning up. Especially when he unzipped his pants and shoved them down his hips.

He was wearing a pair of white briefs, and her gaze slid to the bulge in them. The very large bulge.

“I’m very ready for you, sweetheart,” he said. “We can stop this game any time and get to the good part.”

“I think you just don’t like losing,” she said.

He looked sinful, hot and dark and devilish. “I don’t intend to lose, Sara.”

“I’m not the one with only one stitch of clothing left,” she retorted.

“Game’s not over yet,” he said. “Deal.”

Sara picked up the cards and shuffled them. After he’d cut the deck, she dealt. The promise of the hand leached away with her next deal, so she folded. Three more hands passed with her folding each time.

“Are you trying to stave off the inevitable?” Simon asked.

“I haven’t had a good hand,” she said. “There isn’t a time limit on this game, you know.”

But another fifteen minutes passed before she got a hand she felt she could use. Only one card separated her from a flush. It was a risk, but when the next card came up diamonds, she breathed a sigh of relief. Inwardly, of course. She didn’t want him to know she was confident in her hand. This time, when the call came, she laid her cards down with a flourish.

“Beat that.”

His smile was not what she’d hoped to see. “I can do that,” he said, spreading his cards out for her to see. A full house.

Sara cursed inwardly. How had she let that happen? How had she not clued in to his body language on this one?

Because he was damn good, that’s why.

“The bra,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Off with it.”