He pulled out several five cent coins and set them on the counter while the man filled two mugs. “I thought you wanted me to ask questions?”
She smiled as the barkeep set the ale in front of them and took the money. “He won’t give you any information.” She headed into the room and scanned the tables before pointing. “There.”
In the back corner, a group of especially rough looking men sat with cards laid out in front of them. Surely, she didn’t mean to… She did. He followed her to the table and hesitated when she gestured to the only empty seat.
Miss Montclair faced the men. “I do love a good game of vingt-un.Who’s winning?”
So much for letting him do the talking.
A gruff man tilted the brim of his hat and she swiveled to Isaac. “You do play, don’t you?”
He shifted on his feet. “Not regularly.”
A pout fell across her mouth. “A pity.”
She leaned in, her lips grazing his ear, and every nerve in his body shot to life. “If this is going to work, I need you to play along, no questions asked.” Her words came on a whispered breath that sent a shudder through him.
“What say you?” She raised her voice and arched a dark brow before tilting her ear to his mouth.
His pulse jumped as he leaned into her. “I say you play a dangerous game.”
She reached between them, her fingers setting on his pocket, and his throat went dry. Dangerous indeed. With a laugh, she twisted her hand and lifted a money bag. One that had certainly not been there before.
“He says I can play. You gentlemen don’t mind, do you?” Crooked mouths twisted into smiles and he marveled at the power a pair of shapely breasts could wield. She gave him an expectant look and waved her hand at the chair. “Don’t take all day, my dear.”
He pressed his lips together, but sat. No sooner had he got situated, she lowered herself into his lap. He sucked in a breath and his entire body went rigid as her soft curves pressed into him. Hell. This was going to be a long game.
She pulled a few coins free and made her first bet as the dealer passed out the first cards. He craned his neck as she lifted the corner but missed her card in the brief flash she offered. Same with her second card. She nodded for a third. Lost.
The next hands passed in a flurry, as she bet small amounts, winning some, losing some. She fell into a rhythm, laughing and engagingwith the men, until they seemed at ease with her.
She’d done this before.
He took a hearty drink of his ale and leaned back in his chair.
If she was going to enjoy herself, he may as well try to as well. His lips curved. Who was he fooling? With her supple bottom wiggling in his lap, he already immensely enjoyed this.
As the cards in the deck dwindled, she became more aggressive with her bets, and won two hands in a row. The next hand, she pushed her entire pile to the center. Risky.
She turned, her bottom twisting against the part of him that had sprung to attention. “How about a good luck kiss, dear?”
His eyes widened. No. He began to shake his head and her smile wavered. Damnation. His gaze flitted past her to the expectant stares of all the men there. If he didn’t, he would be telling them she was fair game.
“Miss—” He flinched when she gave his shoulder a playful swat.
“I’m no miss.” She shot him a sultry look.
With a growl, he leaned into her, his lips claiming hers in one swift action. His hand lifted, tangling in her hair to hold her in place as he ran his tongue over her bottom lip. So damn soft. Her hands twisted in his shirt and her mouth opened in a gasp.
The other players hooted and Isaac forced himself to pull back. Miss Montclair stared at him, her eyes glazed and lips parted. He shifted his weight. If she kept looking at him like that, he was going to kiss her again.
“Was that lucky enough?” His words came out hoarse and he cleared his throat.
Her fingers lifted, touching her lips briefly before she turned back to the table. “Let’s find out if his kiss is as lucky as he says.”
When the cards were turned, she let out a little squeal. She’d won.
Astonishing.
