She was proud of the work she had done. It was not done for ladies of her position to own and run businesses, she well knew. But New York City had filled her mind and her heart with possibility, possibility she could not wait to make reality. And she could not deny his praise pleased her. Nor could she deny how dangerous it—and he—was to her.
You must not succumb again, Julianna. You must not—
“One more game,” he said smoothly.
“No.”
One dark brow rose, taunting her. “Then we are to end the evening at a stalemate?”
“I hardly think it a stalemate,” she countered. “We have played four games.”
“One more.”
“I am tired.”
“Do you know what I think, Julianna? I think you are scared.”
Her shoulders went back. “Scared? Of you?”
“Of losing. Of lingering here with me too long. You do not trust yourself do you,chérie?” he asked, his voice silky.
Mocking.
Tempting.
Right,drat him.
“I would win,” she said, although he was an excellent player.
She, however, was competitive. She wanted to best him. And he knew it. They had not played billiards together since Farnsworth Hall, and she could not deny tonight and the ease that had fallen between them had taken her back to that golden summer.
“If you are so certain, then you will join me for another game.”
“One more,” she allowed reluctantly.
He grinned, but of course he was not pleased by her mere concession, the devil.
“The victor ought to receive a reward, do you not agree?” he asked pleasantly, his gaze warm upon her.
She felt it everywhere, that molten emerald stare. Just as she felthimeverywhere—his presence, his tall, muscular form. More than once, she had caught herself admiring his hands on the cue, his bottom as he had bent over to strike a ball. His long legs. The way a lock of dark hair fell over his brow. She had been forced to clutch her cue to stave off the longing to brush that hair aside.
She cleared her throat, trying to keep her inner torment from reflecting on her countenance. “What manner of reward do you have in mind?”
His grin deepened. “What sort of reward haveyouin mind,chérie?”
Being with Shelbourne was easy. She had forgotten the camaraderie they had shared. Their banter. She had never felt at home with another gentleman, as if she were exactly where she belonged, the way she did with him. But she must not forget the other side of the coin. He was charming, yes, but he did not reserve his charm for her alone.
And that had always been the problem.
“A favor,” she suggested, thinking it a reasonably safe choice. “The loser must perform one favor for the victor.”
“Boring,” he declared.
“Rude,” she countered. “What do you propose? And before you begin, be warned that I will not agree to anything wicked.”
His grin slowly faded, but his stare was vivid, smoldering. “Whereisyour mind, Lady Shelbourne? I was going to suggest a gift.”
Her cheeks were scalding. “A gift?”
