“Sometimes it fits. I’ve always thought beauty was just an accident of genes or something accomplished through skill. You make me wonder.”
“You’re a very strange man, Hornblower.”
He smiled a little. “You don’t know the half of it.” He stepped back. “We’d better play cards.”
“Good idea.” She let out a quiet, relieved breath as she took the deck from a drawer. If she had a little time, alone, she might just figure out what it was about him that jolted her system. “Poker by firelight.” She dropped onto the floor. “Now that’s romance.”
He sat opposite her. “Is it?”
“Prepare to lose.”
But he won, consistently, continually, until she began to watch him through narrowed eyes. For lack of anything else, they were playing for cookies, and his pile of chocolate chips kept growing.
“You eat all those you’re going to get fat.”
He merely smiled. “No, I won’t. I have an excellent metabolism.”
“Yeah, I just bet you do.” With a body like that, he’d have to. “Two pair, queens and fours.”
“Mmm.” He set his cards down. “Full house, tens over fives.”
“Sonofa—” She broke off, scowling, as he raked in the chips. “Look, I don’t want to sound like a sore loser, but you’ve won ten out of twelve hands.”
“Must be my lucky night.” He picked up the cards and riffled them.
“Or something.”
He merely lifted a brow at her tone. “Poker is as much a science as physics.”
She snatched up a cookie. “Just deal, Hornblower.”
“Are you going to eat your ante?”
Miffed, she tossed it into the pot. “If I don’t eat several times a day I get cranky.”
“Is that what’s wrong with you?”
“I’m basically a very nice person.”
“No, you’re not.” He grinned as he dealt the cards. “But I like you anyway.”
“I am nice,” she insisted, keeping her face carefully bland when she spotted two aces in her hand. “Ask anybody—except my last two supervisors. Open for two.”
Jacob obliged her by adding his two cookies to the pot. He liked her this way—warily friendly, competitive, relaxed, but ready to pounce on any infraction. He supposed it didn’t hurt that the firelight painted interesting shadows that played over those fabulous cheekbones. He checked himself—and his hand. This seemed as good a time as any to find out more about her.
“What did you do, before you came here to decide to be a lawyer?”
She made a face, then drew three cards. “I sold underwear. Ladies’ lingerie, to be specific.” She glanced up, waiting for the disdain, and was mollified when she didn’t see it. “I have a drawerful of great stuff I got on discount.”
“Oh, really?” He thought about that for a moment, wondering just what her idea of great stuff consisted of.
“Yeah.” She was delighted to see that she’d drawn another ace, but she kept her voice even. “The problem was, this particular supervisor wanted you to take the money, box the silks and keep your mouth shut—even when the customer was making an obvious mistake.”
He tried to imagine her keeping her mouth shut. He couldn’t. “Such as?”
“Such as the pleasantly plump lady who was going to torture herself in a size eight merry widow. Bet three.”
“And raise it two. What happened?”