She tilted her head toward the arguing couple and arched one brow.
“What are the stakes they’re fighting so fiercely over?” Mitch shrugged, surprised to discover his arms were on fire. He was used to pushing his body to the limits, but it was obviously harder when half his blood supply had taken up residence below his belt.
“Yo, Romeo. What’d you have on the line?”
Gabriel held up one finger to indicate he wasn’t finished arguing yet, and kept on edging closer to the brunette. Typical body intimidation tactics. Except she didn’t seem intimidated.
“You think they’ll end up in bed together?” Mitch wondered aloud.
“I’d be surprised if they managed to hold out long enough to find an actual mattress,” Livi replied. Then, lifting her head and her voice, she called out, “Aunt Roz, you have a second?”
“That’s about all I have.” The tall woman sauntered over to hold out a hand to her niece.
“I’ve got a crew of hungry people here. I need to bring in another keg of beer, and somebody should pour a pitcher or three of ice over those two. And what do you need?” As always, her words ran together into one long, breathless declaration.
“I’d rather it not get out,” Livi quietly told her aunt. “But I’m not sure what the stakes of this challenge were. Did you happen to hear?”
Roz’s lips twitched. She gave Mitch a wink then held out her other hand for him. He eyed it, wondering if this was how the mighty felt after the fall. But it’d be rude to refuse, so he put his hand in hers and effortlessly hopped to his feet.
“Nobody seemed to have the straight of it on what the stakes are between the two of you,” Roz said. “But the stakes between those two are a lip-lock versus a date.”
Livi frowned.
“We tied. That means it’s a draw,” she pointed out. “So why are they arguing? Neither lost.”
“Because Tessa says the draw means all bets are off. Romeo claims it means they both have to pay up. The money’s on Romeo, if you’re looking to cash in,” Roz said with a laugh before heading off to do all those things she needed to do.
Mitch watched Livi as Livi watched her aunt.
And he kept watching, giving her time to work it through.
It didn’t take her long. As soon as her aunt cleared the door, she turned her gaze back to him.
“So I owe you a kiss?” she asked.
“And I owe you a date,” he confirmed. Mitch tilted his head toward the side door. “Shall we go discuss payment?”
* * *
STEPPING INTO THE COOL, dark storeroom ahead of Mitch, Livi flipped on the light. The bulb cast a dim glow on boxes and crates, leaving Mitch’s face in shadows as he let the door shut behind him.
Livi knew she should have felt ashamed of the naughty way she’d manipulated that competition.
She didn’t.
But she should have.
Her mother was fond of saying that only results counted. But having grown up as one of her results, Livi was just as fond of believing that actions mattered, too.
And intentions.
She leaned against a waist-high stack of crates, her eyes locked on Mitch’s face as he walked toward her.
Out there in the bright room surrounded by partiers he’d seemed like a seductively sexy, extremely gorgeous, abundantly charming man. The kind of man she fantasized about.
In here he was still sexy, gorgeous and charming. But the dim shadows added an air of danger. Hinted at everything he was capable of doing. Because he was the ultimate fantasy...a SEAL.
Her excitement took on an edge that made her nervous.
What did it say about her that her anxiousness just turned her on more? He stopped a few inches away. Her pulse sped up even faster than it had during the push-ups. She tried to swallow but her throat was sandpaper.
“So, some challenge, huh?” she said, her bright words ricocheting around the room like a poorly aimed racquetball.
“It was interesting,” he acknowledged. His eyes were like X-rays, looking so deep Livi wondered if he could see her nerves. Did they teach that in BUD/S? What other skills did he have? More than she did, for sure.
Panic pushed through her excitement.
She didn’t know how to do this.
She knew how to win.
And—although some might debate it—she knew how to kiss.
But how did she handle winning a kiss?
“Interesting in what way?” she asked, desperately trying to find something clever to say, something that would keep him occupied until she figured it out.
“You play to win,” he noted quietly, skimming his fingers, just the tips, down her arm from shoulder to wrist. Livi shivered, need edging aside nerves again in her stomach.
She watched his face, wishing she could see as much there as she knew he saw on hers.
“I don’t do this,” she blurted out. “I mean, not usually.”
“Don’t play to win?” He waited a beat. “Or don’t play, period?”
She wanted to admit the latter. But her lack of sexual savvy had been a major bone of contention between her and Derrick—one of the key reasons for their divorce.
Any sexual shortcomings she might have were probably the kind of thing Mitch should find out for himself. After she’d found out if his mouth was as good as his body. How’s that for sexual savvy? she congratulated herself.
His hand was still skimming, light as silk, up and down her arm. His touch was a whisper. A reminder. As if she needed one. Her body was wound so tightly she didn’t know how long she could stop herself from grabbing his face in her hands and yanking that mouth to hers.
Long enough to keep from making a fool of herself, she silently promised.
“I like to win,” Livi admitted. “But I don’t think winning is everything.”
“Heresy.” His grin flashed like lightning in the dark, quick and striking. “Don’t let the team hear you say that.”
“You play to win?”
“I play. I win.”
“You are so confident,” she breathed, shaking her head in admiration. That was almost as much a turn-on as his well-muscled body.
“I’m good.”
He was
