Kristin Hardy - Nothing But The Best

For the hundredth time, Rand pulled his thoughts back to the game and laid his cards down. “Eights and fives.”

Cilla set down three jacks. “You are mine, baby, all mine,” she crowed, and her eyes held a hot look of triumph. “That’s five hands in a row.”

“You never told me you were a cardsharp. Are you sure you weren’t the one headed to Vegas?” If he was on a losing streak, it was because the way she’d curled those long legs underneath her, rucking up her dress just enough, played hell with his concentration. Of course, the remains of the vodka tonics on the coffee table might have a bit to do with it, as well.

And the fact that they were both wondering how and when and where they’d make the jump. Not if, though. Not if.

“A card hustler? Me? I’m just trying to give you the authentic experience,” she told him, scooping up the last of his small change.

“By cleaning me out?”

“Exactly, sugar.” She reached out to give his cheek a little pat. And in reflex, his hand came up to trap hers in place. Cilla froze, her eyes widening just a fraction. Surprise? Arousal? Rand curled his fingers around hers, moving them to his lips, watching her steadily. For a moment, they stared at each other, the question asked, the answer given, the knowledge of where they were going naked in their eyes.

When he released her hand, she stayed absolutely still, then she went back to shuffling the cards.

Rand looked at her in puzzlement. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to deal.” She split the deck in two and snapped the cards together. “You’re not afraid of another hand, are you?” Her eyes were bright with excitement.

“I’m out of change. You’ve broken me.”

“Good thing you didn’t make it to Vegas.”

“Consider yourself lucky that I’ve been on a down streak. I’m usually a winner.”

“Big talk,” she sniffed, snapping the cards together again. “Why don’t you prove it?”

“I told you, no more money.”

“We could keep a tally on paper.”

“That’s not poker.”

A smile lurked in her eyes. “You could put it on your credit card.”

“I’m sure you’d love that.”

Cilla spread her hands, and shrugged. “Well, the house doesn’t play for free. Of course, we do have one other option.”

“Yes?”

“You want stakes that mean something, I think we can arrange it.” She did smile then, a slow bloom of promise.

Something deep inside him began to thud in response. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Her eyes held a flare of recklessness. “Your clothes.”

CILLA SHUFFLED the cards, excitement making her hands tremble just a bit. Rand sat shirtless, his skin gleaming gold in the light. Even though she’d seen him that afternoon in just swim trunks, he somehow seemed more naked now, his skin all the more bare for the contrast with his wheat-colored linen slacks.

They’d gone past the easy pickings. Her Manolos had been off before they’d ever started, and now Rand’s Top-Siders lay nearby. Watches, jewelry, it was all on the coffee table. She’d done well the first few hands, but more recently Rand had been winning steadily.

She was beginning to run out of clothing.

Pushing the deck together, Cilla set it out for Rand to cut. When she reached out to pick up the stack, he captured her hand.

And heat zoomed up her arm.

“What are you doing?” she asked faintly.

“Just checking to see if you had any cards up your sleeve.”

Her heart began to beat again. “It’s a sleeveless shift.”

“Can’t be too careful.” He ran his fingertips up the fragile skin on the inside of her forearm. Arousal whispered through her.

“Five-card draw,” Cilla said, her voice a little shaky, and dealt.

Rand just watched her. He fanned his cards out and gave a small smile. It could mean he had something, it could mean he was bluffing, Cilla wasn’t sure. If he had tells, she’d yet to figure them out.

Then she looked at her own hand and very nearly sighed. Three queens, a nine, and a four. She’d hold on to her ladies and take her chances with the rest, Cilla thought, tossing the other two cards down. “Two for the dealer,” she said aloud. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll take three.”

Cilla raised an eyebrow. “Three cards for the desperate man in the corner,” she said, and tossed them to him, giving herself two new cards before picking up her hand. Jubilantly, she saw that she’d drawn a pair of aces. Full house. She kept her face wooden and looked at Rand.

“I’ll call,” he told her.

Cilla laid down her hand. “Full house, read it and weep.”

“Not quite.” He put his own cards down, revealing a hand full of tens. “Four of a kind.” His smile was impudent. “Looks like I win.”

She cursed.

“Pretty salty language for a lady.”

“That full house would have won me the last three hands.”

“Timing is everything.” Rand settled more comfortably on the couch, putting his hands behind his head. “Guess you should have worn a two-piece outfit.”

Cilla rose. “I wore exactly the right outfit,” she countered, sliding her fingers up her thighs. She heard his intake of breath as she reached the hem of her dress. Instead of pulling it up, though, she slid her hands up underneath and around to the back. The whole time she was hooking her fingers in the sides of her thong, she watched Rand. The naked hunger in his eyes made her weak. Slowly, she drew the thong down her thighs, bent over to draw it below her knees, then sat to pull it off entirely.

When she looked at him again, his chest was moving as though he’d just run up stairs. Holding the thong hooked around one finger, Cilla stretched out her arm and let the garment fall to the floor. “I believe it’s your deal.”

The first time Rand tried to deal, the cards slipped in his hands. He raked his hair back off his forehead and tried again.

Anticipation vaulted through her. Depending on what Rand wore beneath his linen slacks, one of them was going to be naked, more or less, when the hand was done. Certainly she would be if she lost, because she’d skipped the bra when she’d gotten dressed, thinking smugly how nice it was to be small enough that a bra was an option, not a requirement. Now, she could feel the brush of silk against her nipples.

The moment of truth, she told herself, picking up her hand to fan it out. Then she looked at the cards and swallowed. It wasn’t fair, not even remotely. The previous game she’d wound up with a strong, if ultimately useless, hand. This time around?

This time, she didn’t have a thing. Nothing. Nada. Not even a pair of measly twos.

Rand stared at his cards, face inscrutable, then he looked up at her.

“Discards?”

Cilla worked at breathing evenly. Maybe she could bluff. She didn’t mind being naked, but she didn’t want to be the first. “I’ll take three,” she said as casually as she could manage and hoped like hell Lady Luck would round out her hand.

Rand picked up the deck. “Nothing up my sleeves,” he observed, holding open imaginary cuffs. “The lady takes a nervous three, and three for the dealer.” He tossed out cards for them both as he spoke, then set the deck aside and gathered his hand.

Cilla fanned out the cards she held, then looked at them on a breath of hope.

She still had diddly. Fold, she telegraphed to him. Fold, fold, fold.

“Well, I don’t see any point in betting here. Call,” Rand said casually, glancing at her. Cilla felt the flush spread over her face and laid her hand down.

“Looks like I lose,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel.

“Or we both win, depending on how you look at it.”

She rose and shook back her hair, trying to ignore the skittering in her stomach. She’d been naked with plenty of guys in her lifetime. It had never been a big deal. She knew she looked sexy, she knew they’d liked what they saw. Taking off her clothes had never bothered her before. Why now?