“Try me,” I drawled.
“Make that three hundred a grand.” She lurched her chin to the money between us.
“And when you lose?”
“I won’t lose.”
“And if you lose?” I amended. “What do I get?”
“Your pick.”
“I’ll get to pick what you wear for the remainder of the cruise. Take you out shopping and put you in what I want to see you in. I’ll dress you…” I paused strategically, “and undress you as I please.”
The crowd hollered in elation (pun intended, obviously). I was surprised at their responsiveness for a moment until remembering our sham marriage…
Her sharp hazel eyes, the lovely shade of a heart of a tree, flared for a fraction of a moment, before she fixed another sneer on those bright red lips.
“As far as I’m concerned, you can ask me to walk around naked until we touch land again. You’re not winning, so I don’t really care what you want from me.”
“Is that a deal?” I arched an eyebrow.
She gave me a quick nod.
The crowd cheered.
I collected the money between us, stuffing it into my pocket and reached to shake on it. Her hand was cold and clammy. I withdrew from her, hating the sensation her simple handshake had on me.
“Seven rounds or first to score seven points,” I laid down the rules.
“Yeah, I know how to play air hockey, pal.”
She annihilated me the first two rounds, but only because I let her. I wanted to build her confidence, and also to ensure that she thought she had a fair chance. By the third round, I stepped into the game. In our youth, Tennessee and I had always found ourselves competing in air hockey at the local arcade. We were simply the best at it. Rob used to be oblivious to how I looked at his girlfriend while I played with her. Probably because he was busy showing off to the other girls his claw machine talents—that bastard always got the teddy. He had a secret technique he wouldn’t share.
I won the third, fourth, and fifth rounds, and planned to see where the wind blew with the sixth one. Tennessee was good—but I was better, and I also wanted to change her entire wardrobe and bring her back to Fairhope a new, respectable woman and get the brownie points for it.
The perfect Dr. Costello gave Tennessee Turner a makeover and now his sister-in-law’s sibling looks like someone we might let babysit our kids.
“You’ve gotten rusty,” Tennessee commented from across the table, blocking the puck I sent spinning toward her and sliding it back to me with force. She was panting.
“You’ve gotten cocky,” I replied. She wanted to shatter my cool exterior. She was in for a great disappointment.
“Yeah, well, the past few years were just a breeze.” She blew a lock of blonde hair that escaped her hairspray and fell across her eye. “So naturally, I let my guard down.”
“Are you going to complain about your life every time we talk?” I sent the puck careening her way at the speed of light. “Because in that case, I’m not the only boring one here.”
“You should have more empathy for me, you know,” she huffed. “Not all of us have perfect lives.”
I have a lot more to offer you than empathy, if you’d just descend from the cloud of self-pity you’re stuck in.
“Aren’t you two married?” a confused teenager in the crowd wondered aloud, scratching a pimple open on his cheek.
“My life is not perfect,” I said, blocking the puck she sent my way. Damn. She had some moves on her. I forgot how fun she was to be around when we were actually…well, left to be our real selves.
“Of course it is.” She let out a throaty, sexy laugh. “Why’d you dump poor Gabriella? Did you not like the test drive?”
“We wanted different things,” I said curtly.
“What do you want?” Tennessee asked, trying to distract me and slide that puck into my hole.
You, I thought bitterly. I want you.
But I didn’t have nearly enough alcohol in my system to say it, and anyway, I wans’t sure I really, truly wanted her. I mean, I wanted her, but in the same way I wanted four cinnamon rolls. It would feel good to have, but might kill you afterwards.
“Not sure.” I leaned a hip against the air hockey table instead, making a show of getting bored. And, while I was at it, sent the puck straight into her hole. It landed inside in a clean strike. She groaned, hanging her head down as I continued, “I always figured when I found her, I’d know. Four-two to me, by the way.”
She grabbed the puck and placed it on the table again, delivering the strike of a woman possessed by the devil. “You’re getting a little old.”
“Aren’t you nearly thirty?” I asked conversationally. “Did you know that any pregnancy of a woman thirty-five and above is called geriatric pregnancy?”
“You’re a real smooth talker, aren’t you, Mr. Weiner?”
People chuckled around us. I had to remember we had an audience. It helped with keeping my heartrate—and that thing inside my pants—in check.
I won another round, making it five-two to me, and wasn’t in the mood to offer her some grace in a form of letting her win a round.
“You’ve always hated me,” I accused. “Why?”
“That’s bull.” Her mouth hung open in outraged shock. “You’re the one who always looked down on me. Even before I started dating Rob.”
“How so?”
“Who is Rob?” someone asked.
She put the puck back on the table, sent it my way, and nailed it straight into my goal.
Fine. Maybe I was a little distracted.
“Five-three to you.” She winked at me suggestively. “And I once overheard you telling him you thought he and I had nothing in common and that he shouldn’t ask me out. You said girls like me are a lot of work.”
I didn’t want to tell her I had told him that because I’d had a horse in that race.
“And you were.” I shrugged, putting the puck back in its place and starting another round.
“You wouldn’t look me in the eye after I started dating him. You couldn’t bear that he didn’t listen to you, could you?”
Yeah. That’s what it was. Sure.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” I sent the puck spinning again.
“Guess so, but that thing everyone called a mistake?” She held my gaze, stopping the game for a few seconds. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I wouldn’t replace him for anything in this world.”
“Good for you.”
I slammed the puck with my striker and won again. “Six-three.”
I had one more round to win before I put her in a sensible dress and flat shoes. I was probably the only man on Earth who wanted to see the woman he desired dressed like a senior librarian, and not because of some kinky fantasy.
“So how are you going to handle an actual pair of jeans? And I don’t mean the Daisy Dukes kind. Is your body allergic to fabric?” I wondered.
“It’s allergic to nonsense. That’s why you give me hives.”
“I love our love,” I cooed sarcastically.
She made gagging sounds. But she was still here.
“Don’t chicken out on me,” I warned.