Reese's Wild Wager. Barbara McCauley

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СКАЧАТЬ Sinclair!” She slammed her cards down on the table. “In spite of your high opinion of yourself, I do not go to the book review meeting to stare at your butt!”

      He looked at her for a long moment, then blinked. “Excuse me?”

      “I said, I do not—”

      “I heard what you said, I just don’t under— Oh.” He glanced at the wall, then back at her. “I was talking about the restaurant award. You are a member of the Chamber of Commerce, aren’t you? And you did vote for the top restaurant in Bloomfield County, didn’t you?”

      The restaurant award. She felt her cheeks burn. He was talking about the restaurant award.

      He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Sydney Taylor, shame on you. Where is your mind tonight?”

      Her entire face was on fire now, the heat spreading down her neck. “I…well…I—”

      “I’ve never seen you stutter and blush, Syd.” Reese gave her a lopsided grin. “You were thinking about my—”

      “I was not!” She scooped up her cards again and stared at them. “The sun will be up in a few hours and you can crow all you want, Sinclair. Right now, this game is gathering moss. Could we get on with it, or do you need some ice for that swelling in your head?”

      “You know, darlin’—” Reese picked up the cigar he’d put out an hour ago and bit on it “—that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble one of these days. You need to learn to lighten up and have some fun.”

      “I am having fun.” She smiled sweetly at him. “I have twice as many chips as you do. Bet’s to you, darlin’.”

      Reese grabbed a large handful of chips and tossed them on the table, then grinned at her. “Five dollars.”

      It was a steep bet, the largest he’d made since they started playing. He was bluffing, she thought. She’d seen him brush his thumb over his jaw a few moments ago. Sydney matched the bet, then slid another column across the table. “And I raise you.”

      And then he scratched his neck under his left ear.

      Oh, dear.

      Now she wasn’t sure.

      She stared at her own cards. She had three jacks, ace high. A good hand, but not great.

      His thumb brushed his jaw again. She chewed on her bottom lip.

      “Let’s have some real fun,” Reese said casually and glanced up from his cards. “Let’s bet it all.”

      Bet it all? Her throat went dry. “You’re kidding.”

      “Nope.” He shifted the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other and leveled his gaze at her. “Winner take all.”

      She knew enough not to look away, not to so much as glance at her cards. Confidence was everything in this game. Never sweat, never falter. Absolute self-assurance.

      “Do you know how to make quiche, Sinclair? With a splash of goat cheese and a kiss of basil? It’s a little more complicated than flipping burgers and pouring beer, but you’ll get the hang of it.” Without so much as a blink, she pushed her stack to the middle of the table. “Or maybe I’ll have you put on a tux and wait on tables. There are plenty of people who’d pay to see that.”

      “Not as many who would pay to see you wearing a wench outfit toting a load of drinks.” Reese shoved his chips across the table. “Hell, I’d give a month’s salary for that, myself.”

      They stared at each other, neither one flinching.

      “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” Reese raised one corner of his mouth.

      Sydney laid her cards on the table without even looking at them. Reese glanced down. Without any expression at all, he laid his hand down, too.

      Breath held, she slowly lowered her gaze.

      Three tens.

      And a one-eyed jack.

      Four of a kind.

      Her breath shuddered out of her. She felt a pounding in her head, as if her skull were a tin drum and someone was beating on it. Boomer, who’d started this whole business in the first place, lay under the table, softly snoring.

      But she could hardly blame the dog for her own stupidity.

      “We don’t open until ten tomorrow,” Reese said cheerfully. “But show up at eight to get ready for Sunday breakfast. The Philadelphia Gazette ran an article about the tavern winning the Chamber of Commerce award, so I’m expecting a crowd.”

      Numbly, she rose from the table, every limb stiff and cold. She’d lost. Dear Lord. Two weeks. She had to work for Reese Sinclair for two entire weeks. Under his “personal supervision” as he’d put it.

      She couldn’t think right now. Couldn’t let Reese see how completely humiliated she was.

      She’d never let anyone see her like that again.

      “All right, then.” Drawing in a deep breath, she tightened the belt of her robe. “Eight o’clock it is.”

      “Sydney.” Reese shook his head and chuckled. “You don’t think I was serious about this, do you? I was just having some fun.”

      She lifted her chin and narrowed a cold look at him, praying he wouldn’t see how badly her hands were shaking. “That’s just one difference between you and me, Reese. Everything’s a big lark to you, a game. You don’t take anything seriously, where as I intend to honor my bet and the deal we made. I said I’d be here at eight, and I will.”

      A muscle jumped in Reese’s jaw, and she watched as his eyes darkened. “Have it your way, Syd,” he said with a shrug. “Just remember if it gets too rough for you, that I gave you an out.”

      “I can handle whatever you dish out,” she said in a voice so serene it surprised even her. “What remains to be seen is if you can handle me.”

      His brow shot up at that, and she simply smiled, turned on her muddy, slippered feet and walked calmly out the door.

      She intended to give Reese Sinclair two weeks in his life that he’d never forget.

      Two

      Sunday was the only morning that Reese allowed himself to sleep in. He cherished that day, was grateful that he had a manager like Corky to come in early, start the coffee brewing, the grills heating, and the cinnamon rolls baking. Squire’s Tavern and Inn was well-known not only for their hamburgers and pizza, but also for their breakfasts—plump sausages, country potatoes, biscuits that melted in your mouth and eggs so fresh they were still warm from the nest. He loved the smells and the sounds of his business: the food grilling, people laughing, having a good time while they ate and talked.

      It reminded him of meals in his house when he was a kid. With five kids at the table—four of them boys—you had to yell to be СКАЧАТЬ