curvy and her last haircut had been at the courtesy of her own hands because she’d been too darned busy to keep a hair appointment. “Just what am I supposed to distract him with?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Have you forgotten everything we used to know? You’re wearing something under that sweatshirt, aren’t you?”
“An undershirt.”
“Is it completely disgraceful?”
It was thin, white and sleeveless. “It’s clean.”
Sarah laughed softly. “What would you advise someone on your show? And you’d better hurry up. At the most, he only has three shots left.”
Frowning at the lengths she’d go to in order to save her fifty dollars, Leandra unzipped the sweatshirt and tossed it onto the nearby high-top table. Picking up her cue stick again, she sauntered around the table until she was opposite Evan once again.
She leaned the stick against the side of the table and braced her hands on the rails. “Want to go for double or nothing?”
He didn’t even glance her way. “We could just save the time and have you hand over the money, instead.”
Leandra rolled her eyes. Caught Sarah’s gaze. Her cousin nodded encouragingly.
Swallowing an oath, she slowly moved around the table, taking advantage of the time Evan was spending as he studied the table and the not-so-easy position of the remaining balls. She stopped beside him as he began to line up his next shot and murmured close to his ear. “Maybe I think three times is not going to be the charm for you.”
He jerked as if he’d been bitten. She almost chuckled at the comedy of the moment. But she managed to contain herself when he straightened again, not taking the shot after all, and she found her nose about five inches away from the soft brown shirt covering his chest.
Or, rather, the chuckle nearly turned into choking because the man was just too male for her stunted senses.
“What are you doing?” His voice was mildly curious.
She would not blush. She was a career woman, for heaven’s sake. Blushing was not supposed to be part of her repertoire.
She still felt her cheeks warming and thanked the heavens that the bar was crowded and slightly warm as a result. She’d blame it on that. Much more palatable than thinking he could reduce her to a blush so easily.
Searching desperately for an answer, she spotted Sarah, who lifted her eyebrows slightly, meaningfully.
“Just cooling off,” she assured. “Don’t you think it’s getting warm in here?”
His lashes drooped, his gaze moving over her from her face to her toes.
And dammit, she actually shivered. Shivered!
Maybe she was coming down with the flu. Maybe she was simply off her rocker. That was far more likely.
“Yeah, it’s warm all right.” His voice dropped a notch. “A hundred bucks? You sink every striped ball and I’ll pay you a hundred bucks.”
“Interesting idea. But this wasn’t about my ability. It was about yours.”
He set the bottom of the cue stick on the floor. The tip of it stood higher than Leandra’s head. “I don’t think either one of us question my ability.” He took Leandra’s hand and wrapped it around the shaft of the stick, keeping it in place with his own hand around hers. “Do we?”
There was a knot in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. His hand felt hot against hers.
“Well?” He prompted when she failed to answer.
She shook herself, snatching the stick and her hand away from him. Ignoring the faint smile that touched his wicked, wicked mouth, she turned to the pool table only to find that at least a dozen people had joined Sarah in watching them.
She felt her face flush even hotter.
Her parents. Her cousins. Ted. They were all there. Even the players at the other pool tables had gone silent.
Great.
“One hundred dollars,” she said brusquely. “You sure you’re good for it, Taggart?”
He cocked an eyebrow.
Making a face, she pointed the cue at the table. “Rack them up, then. Striped balls, any pocket.”
While Evan gathered all of the balls in the rack, Sarah scooted next to Leandra. “You were supposed to be distracting him, remember?”
“Yeah, a fine idea you had,” she muttered. “I’m going to make an ass out of myself, right here in front of everyone. Even Ted and his little camcorder, there.”
Sarah glanced over at the cameraman. “I didn’t even realize that thing he’s been playing with all evening was a camera.”
After more than a year of working together, Leandra wasn’t the least interested in Ted and his penchant for electronics. Instead, she kept her focus on Evan’s work at the table. He removed the rack with a goading smile, and waved his hand over the table, as if inviting her to humiliate herself.
“Just take your time,” Sarah advised under her breath. “Remember everything we’ve ever been taught about pool.”
The first thing Leandra had been taught was not to place a bet that she wasn’t absolutely certain of winning.
She centered the cue ball over the headspot, settled her left hand on the felt, making a bridge for the stick and sliding it slowly back and forth, experimentally, as she focused on the leading ball of the rack.
“Gonna take all night there, sport?”
She drew back and let fly.
The racked balls exploded. Two balls, one solid, one striped, plowed into the corner pockets.
A couple of hoots followed from the peanut gallery.
Leandra closed them out.
It was not so easy to close out Evan, though, as she moved around the table, studying the position of the remaining striped balls. He leisurely moved out of her way when she pointedly stopped next to him.
“Sure you want to try that shot?” His voice was solicitous. “You’re gonna have to cut the eleven ball to get the right angle.”
Shut up, she thought. She leaned over, lining up the shot. He was right, though. She’d have to hit the cue ball into the striped ball exactly to one side of center in order to gain the forty-five-degree angle she needed for the ball to head toward the corner pocket. Narrowing her eyes, she drew in a breath, and made her stroke.
The balls clacked together and old eleven rolled right into the pocket. More slowly than she’d intended, but at least it dropped.
“That’s my girl,” she heard her father say.
“Five more to go,”
