She shrugged. “When I was a kid, Mom and I didn’t have a Skip-Bo game. We played Spite and Malice instead.” Spite and Malice had become their tradition.
Troy backed out of the kitchen. “Alrighty, then. I’ll get busy shuffling.”
She’d arranged the cheesecakes on a platter, enjoying the reminder of their day on the yacht—and that kiss. She mixed a rum and Coke for Troy—his preferred drink, she’d learned from Susan through her mother—then prepared a Blue Hawaii for herself. The drink was refreshing, especially on a hot afternoon after a hike. And it would be delicious for tonight.
Carrying a tray into the living room, she found Troy on the sofa, leaning over the coffee table as he shuffled expertly. She stood for a long moment, taking in all of him as he concentrated. So handsome. So perfectly formed. She ached to kiss him, ached for him to touch her the way he had on the hike. Her head wanted to tell her it was a bad idea. Her body didn’t care.
But what about her heart?
Maybe she should take a page out of the book she’d just written for her mother. A fling with a handsome man. She’d never had a fling.
Maybe it was time to start. With Troy.
He eyed the little cheesecakes almost lasciviously. “Did you make them?”
She pursed her lips primly, trying to disguise a smile. “I did.”
“Then I bet they’ll taste a hell of a lot better than the ones I brought you on the boat.”
“Yacht,” she corrected him, but she blushed at his compliment. “I made you a drink.” She placed it on a coaster beside him.
He chuckled. “Don’t tell me someone has been talking to you about my favorites again.”
She didn’t even try to hide her smile this time. “Rum and Coke.”
“And a Blue Hawaii for you. I don’t remember anyone telling me that was your favorite.”
“Cakebread is still my favorite chardonnay.” She sat cross-legged on the other side of the coffee table. “I’ll deal the first time.”
As the game began, he sipped his rum and Coke, she enjoyed her Blue Hawaii, and they worked on devouring the strawberry cheesecakes. Playing cutthroat, they blocked each other with glee and glowered when one or the other got several cards in a row off their pile. She won the first game, and he won the second. They finished their drinks, and while he shuffled again, she got up to make a second round.
In the third game, they gave each other no quarter, playing hard. Each game took at least half an hour. They were both excellent players, and they were both determined to win. She pulled ahead, winning the third, but then he won the fourth, and they were tied.
He gave her a devilish smirk. “How about we up the ante and make a bet?”
“You and your bets. What kind?”
His smirk grew. “Sudden death. Whoever wins this one wins the match, and?—”
She interrupted him. “I know exactly what you’re going to ask for. If you win, you get a kiss.”
His smile was all beautiful white teeth. “Is it a bet, then?”
“Agreed.”
“What if you win?”
She flashed him an equally sharklike smile. “If I win, I don’t have to kiss you.”
“Then be prepared to lose,” he said, holding her gaze, shooting a thrill through her. He raised one devilish eyebrow. “And be prepared to pucker up.”
She was prepared, all right. But she still played cutthroat, no matter how badly she wanted to lose. Usually a cautious player, she wouldn’t lay down a card that might let him have the advantage, even if it meant she could pick up five more. But not in this final game. Then they were neck and neck, each with one card left.
“You’re taking more risks than usual,” he remarked.
“You’ve been taking risks all along, and they paid off. I thought I’d try the same tactic.” Even as she’d been praying it would be the exact opposite for her.
He eyed her. “Be prepared to risk it all now.”
