“Forgive me if you lack the intelligence to understand the finer points of poetry.” He lifts his finger to tap me on the noselike he did in the bookshop, but I intercept him, clasping his finger in my palm.
“Forgivemeif you lack the imagination to appreciate the duke’s massive throbbing member. I know it can be difficult when you’ve never seen visual proof.” I glance suggestively at his forefinger still clenched in my hand, then let it go with a sneer. “But, yes, Willy, a cock can be larger than a teaspoon.”
He plants his hands on his hips. “A teaspoon. Really?”
“Surprised, are you?”
“I am. I hadn’t a clue a cock could besmallerthan a teaspoon. My experience lies firmly in the realm of the magnus melon.” He gives a significant tug to his waistband.
“Magnus melon?” I echo.
“Fae fruit,” Daphne says from the rafters. “Very long and girthy.”
Jolene leans toward us, her mouth practically watering as her gaze flicks from the front of his trousers to his eyes. “That’s my favorite fruit.”
William winks.
I jab him in the chest to draw his attention back to me. “Is that how you plan to win the publishing contract? By seducing your readers? Is that how you manage to sell so many books?”
“And how do you plan to win? Your readers are either spinsters or spinsters-in-training. I can’t imagine you’d have great success utilizing your skills from youroh-so-satisfyingsex life.”
My cheeks heat. He was listening to my chat with Jolene after all.
I huff. “First of all, how dare you insult my readers by calling them spinsters. There’s nothing wrong with a woman being unmarried atanyage, and I don’t appreciate you or society at large trying to make us feel ashamed about that. Second of all, at least I don’t have to fondle my fans to sell books.”
He steps closer. As much as I want to flinch back, I dare not move, lest I tumble from my chair. “Even if you did fondle your fans, it wouldn’t help you sell more books.”
“Yes, you’ve already slandered my target audience,” I say.
“Oh, I’m including everyone. You couldn’t seduce the pants off a prostitute.”
“That’s false. I could pay them.” Damn it all to hell, where did my cutting wit go? I turn the subject back to him. “I bet you’re all talk. You may be able to seduce with words, but that doesn’t mean you’re even remotely adequate in bed. I bet you’re a lousy lover.”
“You think you’re better?”
“I know I am. I’ve written books to prove it.”
“Then prove it off the page. Seduce someone. Now. Tonight.”
My mind goes blank. Without breaking eye contact, I lean carefully to the side to retrieve my drink and down the rest of the glass. Almost at once my mind grows clearer, lighter. I return the empty glass to the table. “I will. And I dare you to do the same.”
“Easy,” he says with a lopsided grin. “How about we make it interesting? A bet.”
“Oh, did I hear the word bet?” Monty saunters up to the table. I hadn’t realized he was missing during our poetry battle. A glance his way shows most of our crowd has dispersed, having lost interest as our conversation turned personal. “I love bets.”
“More than your job?” Daphne calls down. She drops to the table, landing with a thud that rattles the empty glasses that litter its surface. “I don’t think we should be encouraging this.”
Monty waves a hand at her, his eyes locked on us. “Oh, hush. Things are finally getting interesting.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll make a bet.”
William sweeps his gaze down the length of me. “What are you willing to wager, love?”
I pause to think this through. I’ve never participated in a bet before, but I can’t stop now. Not in this moment when I’m certain I’ve never been so clever, so bold, or so capable of sheer brilliance. My mind is whirling fast, but one idea stands out as worthy of a bet—something that will provide a solution to my most pressing problem.
“The publishing contract,” I say, my voice quavering with exhilarated restraint.
William’s face goes slack.
