“Call it your first lesson. The second is that I’m an exception to most rules. Now cut.”
She tried to go easy on him, even though it went against her instincts. Jean had never thrown a game of cards in her life. Or anything else that could be gamified; once you made it a competition, she was all in. In this case, she also felt strongly that he needed to get out of those clothes before he overheated, so there was a humanitarian aspect to consider. Getting to see more of his skin as he gradually peeled away the layers was a bonus factor. Notjust for ogling purposes, but because she enjoyed watching him relax as the barrier of too much clothing eroded. Divesting him of the final grandpa-style undershirt had been a favor to both of them. Probably she should finish the job and take it outside for burning later.
“Sorry I’m not better at this.” He looked down at his stomach, brushing a few crumbs out of the light dusting of hair between his belly button and the waistband of his bathing suit.
Jean suspected he had at least one pair of underwear hidden beneath the trunks, which couldn’t be comfortable. The trick was getting him to strip without crushing his spirit.
“You’re a work in progress,” she said. “Which is my favorite kind.” That wasn’t blowing smoke. Jean had always loved the exploratory phase of making art—letting instinct and imagination drive the bus.
He seemed pretty cheerful despite the whupping she’d administered, shaking his head in amazement every time she won another hand. Her snake guy had a childlike capacity for delight. Jean was thinking about trotting out her supply of knock-knock jokes next.
“You’re so talented,” he said as he set down his lackluster hand, folding yet again.
“Oh yeah?” She gathered the cards and started shuffling without looking, fancying it up a little to impress him. This had the advantage of allowing her to watch him shimmy out of those shorts. More like three pairs of underwear, Jean guesstimated now that she could see the outermost layer.
He nodded, settling back to a cross-legged position before thinking better of it and bending his knees in front of him. His eyes were glued to her hands, hypnotized by the rapid movements.
“Don’t hold back, Doc.” She knocked her knee against his thigh.
“Not a doctor yet.” His smile dimmed. “I’m not like you.”
“I am also not a doctor,” Jean pointed out. “Though I have been known to role-play.” Even when she wasn’t trying to flirt, he kept teeing up opportunities no reasonable person could resist.
“You have incredible fine motor skills.” He twirled his fingers, probably imitating her rapid-fire card shuffling, though it looked more like he was trying to solve an invisible Rubik’s cube.
If that’s what he’d noticed about her, it was time to up her game. She slapped the deck face down on the table. “Let’s try something else.”
“You won’t get in trouble with your work?”
“What are you talking about?” She gave him her patented “sincere” look, widening her eyes and pursing her lips like a pinup. “Thisiswork. I’m your personal hospitality consultant. It’s part of the service we provide. Your pleasure is our privilege.” The eyebrow waggle was unnecessary, but enjoyable. Predictably, he blushed.
Jumping to her feet, Jean hurried into the kitchen as if this were her luxury bungalow, rejecting various condiments before grabbing the pepper grinder and carrying it back to the coffee table, where she set it on its side. Poking one end, she sent it into a wobbling spin.
“What game is this?”
“You’ve never played spin the bottle?”
He shook his head. “I guess I didn’t get invited to the right parties.”
“Imagine truth or dare, only it’s all dares. Your secrets are safe.”
Charlie exhaled in relief. An amateur would have chosen that moment to press for information, but Jean knew when to use a nail file instead of a sledgehammer.
“We’ll choose our own dares, so you can stay in your comfort zone.” Boundaries had never been Jean’s strong suit, either on the “noticing” or “respecting” side of the equation, so this seemed like a necessary precaution. “I’ll go first.”
The pepper grinder rattled to a stop pointing slightly more toward Jean. “I challenge myself to walk across the room with this magazine on my head.”
After she failed to keep the glossy resort guide from hitting the floor, Charlie attempted to stand on one leg for a minute while Jean timed him.
“Nice try, Karate Kid.”
They went back and forth, risking nothing spicier than downing a handful of wasabi peas, before Jean casually raised the stakes.
“I challenge myself to take off my shirt.”
“Jean.” He put a hand on her arm to stop her. “This isn’t really part of your job, is it?”
Oh dear. He was the easiest mark she’d ever met, but in a strange way, his innocence was so complete it almost felt like a protective shield. Who would take advantage of someone so pure? Teasing didn’t count; she suspected he needed more of that.
