in a thin black trench coat, with a high, stiff collar and a straight no-nonsense hem just above the knee, she reminded him of a prissy professor. Though her perfectly sexy knees and her shapely bare calves smothered in luscious ivory skin ruined the imagery. As for her feet…
Finn clenched his jaw and breathed past the grin begging to be let loose.
Oh, man, did he want to see under that coat. More than his next breath.
‘Do you like to gamble, Miss Scott? Try your chances with Lady Luck?’
‘Not particularly. I’m not so sure I believe in luck.’
Her admission was a prelude to a charge in the air as secrets and lies swirled around them in an electrical storm.
‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ he drawled. Risky, Finn—and didn’t that just rouse his desire? He chose his next words very, very carefully. ‘If you do something for me I may grant you one wish. As long as it’s in my power to give.’
Up came her chin once more, her grey gaze narrow with scepticism as her need fought hand in hand with obvious discomfort. ‘Deal.’
‘Show me what you’re wearing beneath that coat.’
‘Wh…what?’
‘You heard. Untie that sash, undo those buttons, pull that coat wide and show me.’
Chaotic emotion and energy writhed around inside him.
What he was doing he had no idea. All he knew was that common sense and control took a back seat when he was within five feet of her.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and the sultry swell of her breasts made heat, fast and furious, speed through his body.
Ah, hell, he should stop her.
Right now.
‘A deal is a deal, Miss Scott. You don’t strike me as the type to renege.’
She tapped her hands against the ruffle of material at her thigh and slowly, provocatively, tiptoed her fingers up to the knot of her sash.
Finn gritted his teeth as the ribbon-like belt sank to each side of her hips.
Every pop of every button was magnified, the sound echoing off the silk-covered walls, until she gripped the sides of the soft black fabric.
Then she heaved a bashful sigh, rolled her eyes, and pulled the lapels wide, giving him exactly what he was looking for.
‘Happy now?’ she snapped.
‘Ecstatic.’ Only Serena would storm into one of the most exclusive casinos in the world wearing a pair of frayed denims cut high on her toned thighs and another quirky T-shirt—this one ocean blue, with two scuba divers and the words ‘Keep Your Friends Close and Your Anemones Closer’ riding across her taut stomach.
With no effort whatsoever, she lit up his dark, dark soul.
‘What gave me away?’ she asked, a hint of petulance smoking her tone.
He pointed his index south. ‘Your feet.’
Her gaze followed the direction of his finger. ‘What’s wrong with my feet?’ Her brow furrowed, her head shot back up, eyes slamming into his. ‘And what’s with that wicked gleam and that grin?’
‘I’ve just never seen you in anything other than biker boots.’
‘So?’ she snarked. ‘One of my dad’s ex-lovers gave them to me, I think. This is the first time I’ve had them on.’
Light crept over marble-grey and Finn hurtled towards lucidity. The reason she wouldn’t be seen dead here. The reason she’d shied away from the glamour puss outside the bathroom. Not only did she feel uncomfortable around women, she felt horridly out of place—and yet she’d come here to find him.
Beautiful and brave. He’d never wanted her more. And didn’t that spell trouble?
‘So I’ll ask you again,’ she groused. ‘What’s wrong with my feet?’
‘Nothing, baby, they’re cute.’ The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel worse. She didn’t have a clue.
‘Cute?’ she spat. ‘Kittens are cute. I am not cute. And cut it out with the baby. It’s driving me nuts!’
‘Tell the truth—you love it. Every time I say it you careen into some kind of delightful fluster.’
The nuts part was that she was beginning to like it, and she didn’t want to like anything he said to her.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘Now it’s my turn. I want my wi…’
Her voice trailed off, eyes widening, as he pushed himself off the sofa-arm and sauntered towards her. While he had every intention of playing fair, it wouldn’t hurt to distract her, now, would it? If he tried to kiss her again she would either hit him or bolt. Either exit was fine with him.
When he was up close and personal she raised her head, and Finn caught sight of the wild flutter at the base of her throat.
‘I bet you don’t even realise you have the most beautiful, elegant décolletage.’ He trailed one fingertip down the side of her neck. ‘And this skin of yours is a perfectly gorgeous peach colour.’ Yeah, like peaches and cream, to go with that strawberries and cream voice.
‘St…stop saying stuff like that, Finn.’
No.
‘Love the T,’ he murmured as he brushed down between her breasts with the backs of his fingers, over the creased transfer of frothy waves in a blue ocean—‘Keep Your Anemones Closer’. Sorry, beautiful, not going to happen.
Down, down he stroked—with fire unfurling at the tops of his thighs—and when he reached her navel—
He growled. Snatched his fingers away and slammed both hands against the wall on either side of her head.
‘Wha…what’s wrong?’
Finn closed his eyes. ‘I need to look.’
‘A…at what?’
‘You know what. On your stomach.’
A tremble shook her voice. ‘Only if you tell me what’s wrong with my…my feet.’
Prising his eyes open, he focused on the perpetrators. ‘Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. They’re pretty little…ballerina pumps. I think that’s what they’re called.’
‘Do you know you pause when you lie?’
Great.
‘Okay, okay. They’re slippers.’
Her
