The One-Night Wife. Sandra Marton

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      “Champ…” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He tried not to imagine it was his lip those perfect teeth were worrying. “Oh. I didn’t…I mean, that would be nice.”

      “Besides, how could I let you go until I know why you stood in that alcove watching me for so long?”

      Her face whitened. “I was not watching you.”

      “Telling fibs isn’t nice, sugar. Sure you were. And now you’re as nervous as a cat in a dog pound. Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart. I like getting beautiful women flustered—but I like to know the reason for it. Somehow, I don’t think your nerves have all that much to do with my masculine charms.”

      She looked up at him, conflicting emotions warring in her eyes. For a heartbeat, Sean felt as if she were on the verge of telling him something that would set him on a white charger like a knight ready to do battle with a dragon.

      But she only smiled and angled her chin so she was gazing up at him through thick, honey-brown lashes.

      “You’re right about my watching you,” she said softly, “but wrong in thinking it had nothing to do with your masculine charms.” She smiled again, just enough to give those words the light touch they deserved. “I hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

      “There’s not a man in the room wouldn’t notice you, if you were looking at him.”

      She laughed. It was a flirty, delicious sound. “That’s very sweet.”

      “It’s the truth.”

      Her hand was on his chest again, her fingers toying lightly with the lapel of his jacket. Her lips were slightly parted; she tilted her head back and now he could see the swift beat of her pulse in the hollow of her throat.

      Sean almost groaned. He’d played games like this before but he’d never felt as if every muscle in his body was on full alert until now.

      “I think it’s time we got to know each other better, Just-Savannah.”

      “That sounds nice. What do you have in mind?”

      Taking her to bed. That was what he had in mind, but he wasn’t going to do that until he knew exactly what was going on here.

      “The champagne I promised you, for starters.” He linked his fingers through hers. “And some privacy.”

      “I’d like that.”

      Warning bells rang in his head. The words were right. So was the come-and-get-me smile, but the look in her eyes was wrong.

      Maybe it was time to up the ante.

      He turned her hand palm-up and lifted it to his mouth. He felt her stiffen as he pressed his lips to her flesh, felt her start to jerk her hand from his.

      “Easy, sugar. I haven’t taken a bite out of a woman in years. Not unless she wanted me to.”

      “I know. I just—I told you, this is all—”

      “—new. Yeah, so you said.” Sean’s smile was deliberately lazy. “Unless, of course, there’s more to the story than you’re letting on.”

      “What more could there be, Mr. O’Connell? You’re a very attractive man. I’m sure I’m not the first woman to show an interest in you.”

      The warning bells were going crazy. Mr. O’Connell? How could she know his name? He was Just-Sean. She was Just-Savannah. Definitely, there was more on her agenda. Should he call her on it? Should he play along?

      He looked deep into the green eyes fixed to his. Hell. He was a gambler, wasn’t he? What did he have to lose?

      “Now, sugar,” he said softly, “what kind of gentleman would I be if I answered that question?”

      A slow, easy smile curved his mouth.

      Seeing it, Savannah almost sagged with relief. For one awful minute, she’d been afraid she’d given everything away. She’d come awfully close, saying the wrong things, letting her nerves show, but then she’d turned the situation around by using her mistakes to convince Sean O’Connell she’d never come on to a man before.

      That, at least, was the truth.

      She couldn’t afford any more screw-ups.

      She’d thought this would be easy, but it wasn’t. Using a deck of cards to scam a dumb mark on a dingy street corner was not the same as using your body, your smile, your words to scam an intelligent man in an elegant casino.

      Besides, O’Connell was more than intelligent. He was street-smart. She hadn’t expected that. He kept looking at her as if she were a candy bar he wanted to unwrap, but always with a wariness that made her uneasy.

      Not that it changed anything.

      She was in too far to stop. Either she went forward or she failed. And failure wasn’t an option.

      He was still smiling, but was there something in his eyes that shouldn’t be there? Time to come up with a clever move that would shut down his brain.

      A squeeze of her fingers in his might do it. A sexy smile. A flick of her tongue across her bottom lip. He’d reacted to that before.

      Yes. It was working. His eyes were darkening, focusing on her mouth.

      “If you told me about those other women,” she said huskily, “you’d be the kind of man I’d run from. I don’t want you thinking about anyone but me tonight.”

      “There’s no way I could,” he said softly. Another light brush of his lips against her palm and then he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Have you seen the terrace, Just-Savannah?”

      “No.” Her voice sounded thready. She cleared her throat. “No,” she repeated, and smiled up at him, almost weak with relief. Things were back on track. “No, I haven’t. I’ve never been here before.”

      “Then you’re in for a treat.” He began walking slowly through the casino. Because of the way he’d captured her hand, she was pressed close to his side, aware of the warm length of his body, aware of the muscles in his thigh as it shifted against hers. “Let’s have a drink on the terrace and I’ll show you the most beautiful sight in these islands.” He glanced at her, angled his head down to hers and put his lips to her ear. “I take that back, sugar. The second most beautiful sight in these islands.”

      The warmth of his breath, the promise in his words sent a tingle of anticipation through her. For a moment, Savannah let herself imagine what it would be like if the story she’d spun were true. If she’d come here to gamble, noticed this tall, incredibly good-looking stranger, taken her courage in her hands and gone up to him with seduction, real seduction, in mind.

      But she hadn’t. She was here for a purpose.

      Was O’Connell really as good a poker player as people claimed? Alain said he was.

      Maybe. But she was better.

      Tonight, that was all that mattered.

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