by Meg Lacey
“Yes,” Jackson agreed, rolling his eyes. “Definite problem.”
“Let’s flip a coin instead,” Nicholas intervened, fishing a coin out of his pocket.
“Heads,” Jackson called as Nicholas flipped the quarter in the air, snatching it as it fell.
“Heads it is,” Nicholas said. “You break.”
Jackson looked at Raven. “Shall I do the honors, or would you rather—”
“Please go ahead,” Raven answered. “Make it a good one, darling.”
Jackson winked at her as he bent over the table. “I think I’m about to get lucky.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Nicholas muttered as he watched the cue ball hit and scatter the balls, sinking a solid-colored ball in a pocket in the process. “Okay, you and Raven play solid, Lorianne and I will play the striped balls.”
And the game was off and rolling.
Nicholas watched Lorianne attempt to put a ball in a pocket and for the fourth time sink the cue ball instead. Luckily for their team standing, pool was Nicholas’s game.
It was also Raven’s.
Nicholas could read Jackson’s thoughts as he stood both admiring and resenting Raven’s prowess. The one thing the younger man seemed happy about was Raven’s continual flirting with him.
Not to be outdone, Lorianne tried her best to keep up with both the flirting—focused on Nicholas—and with the game. One more successfully than the other, Nicholas decided, wincing as her cue stick missed the ball and streaked across the table instead.
“Whoops.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nicholas soothed. “We’ll make it up.”
She smiled at him, before sending a baiting look at Jackson. “That’s so sweet, Nicholas, so reassuring. Jackson would have been suicidal if we were partners and I’d just done that.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Jackson denied, sending her a hot look in return.
“You would too.”
“Would not.”
“You’ve been telling me to take lessons for years.”
He cradled his pool cue and folded his arms, the picture of a satisfied male. “Maybe you should have listened.”
“Jackson, darling, gloating is so common,” Raven commented with a chuckle, stroking a hand down his arm.
“You’re right.” Jackson shrugged. “At least you didn’t rip the felt, Lorianne. You’ve done that before, remember?”
Lorianne flushed at Jackson’s comment, getting all nervy as she lined up her next shot, instead of relaxing as she’d been encouraged to do. “I was only thirteen.”
“Here, let me help.” Nicholas moved to Lorianne and put his arms around her, moving his hands over hers to demonstrate, catching a glimpse of Raven’s scowl as he did so. “This is a better way to hold your stick. Move one hand toward the tip and make a bridge, and use the other one for leverage.”
“Like this?” she asked, looking up at him, smiling as if the angels had just given her a valuable gift.
“That’s it,” Nicholas encouraged, “move your left hand a bit. Now aim for left of center on the cue ball and try the shot.” He stepped out of the way, crossing over to get the chalk as Lorianne twisted around for the proper angle.
Then Lorianne gave a gasp and collapsed to the floor as if a bowling ball had knocked her off her feet. Jackson was the first to reach her.
“My knee gave out,” Lorianne said as Jackson slipped his arms around her and lifted her to her feet. She leaned against him, her face a bit pale.
“Are you hurt?” Jackson asked.
“No, my knee locked, then all of a sudden let go and I couldn’t stand up.”
“That’s because you pushed too hard on a bruised knee,” Jackson said. “Didn’t I tell you to stay seated? But no, you had to dance.”
“That’s not what did it. I was fine when I was dancing. It happened because I was twisting to make this shot. I must have gotten into the wrong position.”
“No. You tired yourself out on the dance floor.” Jackson stuck to his refrain like a one-note chorus. “I shouldn’t have let you.”
“Let me?” Lorianne adopted a haughty tone, even as she was brightening at Jackson’s interest.
“Why don’t we call it a night?” Raven said.
“Probably a good idea,” Jackson agreed.
“Lorianne, can I help you to—” Nicholas started to ask.
“No,” Jackson stated, his expression resembling a kid who wanted to keep all the candy for himself.
“Oh, Nicholas, that would be wonderful,” Lorianne said, ignoring Jackson to send a melting look in Nicholas’s direction.
Jackson puffed up like an angry pigeon. “I’ll see she gets to her room.”
“Oh, well, I…” Lorianne trailed off, making it look as if she was reluctant to leave unless Nicholas was involved.
Jackson slid his arm around her and forced her to lean on him. A fact that amused Nicholas as he watched the other man help Lorianne to the door.
“You don’t have to treat me like an invalid. I can walk.”
“Your knee could give out on the steps. Then your father would hunt me down for letting you get hurt.”
“You didn’t let me get hurt.”
“That’s debatable. I’m the one who lost control in the marsh today, remember?”
Lorianne patted his arm. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
“No, but it happened all the same.”
“Anyone can make a mistake, Jackson,” Raven declared with a look at Nicholas. The look telling Nicholas she wasn’t referring to the accident.
Jackson looked over his shoulder. “Oh, Raven.” He blinked as if he’d just remembered she was there. “Sorry, I’ll get Lorianne settled and then come back to—”
“Not necessary,” Nicholas interrupted, purring his response, “I’ll see that Raven gets to bed.”
Jackson flushed at that, while Raven sent Nicholas a “just try it” look before she waved Jackson away.
“Go ahead, Jackson. I can take care of myself. I hope you feel better tomorrow, Lorianne.”
“I’m sure I will.” Lorianne nodded with a hint of a smile as she nestled a bit closer to Jackson, accidentally tromping on his foot.
“Ouch, you’re standing on my instep. Can’t you walk? Do you want me to carry you?”
Her gaze flew to Jackson. “You want to carry me?”
“Sure, I’ll just sling you over my shoulder and—”
“Romantic, but I’ll pass.” Lorianne shuddered, her mouth drooping at the corners. “I can make it if you keep your arm tight around me.”
“Okay, but watch where you’re stepping.”
Nicholas smiled. Luckily, Jackson seemed unaware that she was making her recent accident seem bigger than it was. For the next few minutes all they could hear was Jackson scolding Lorianne all the way out the door.
Nicholas walked over and shut the door, then turned back to Raven. “Your turn, I believe.”
“I don’t need you to carry me anywhere.”
“We’ll see about that later,” he said, grinning before strolling back and nodding at the pool table. “Meanwhile, let’s set the game up again. It’s your turn to break.”
Raven reached for the rack and set up the balls again. “You asked for it.”
Nicholas chuckled. “Get ready to lose, sweetheart.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Nope, more a number-one fact.”
Raven picked up the chalk, rubbing it on the tip of her stick as she refocused on the table, then on him.
As her eyes met his across the green felt table, Nicholas recognized the look—determination mixed with a bit of taunting. Just the attitude he’d come to expect when he goaded her.
“Facts can be disproved. It all depends on the interpretation.”
He grinned at her tart response and sparkling eyes. He loved the way she threw herself into things, that joy she could summon on the spur of the moment—and never more than when she was trying to give him a har
d time. “Still up for that game of strip pool, sweetheart?”
Head tilted, she drawled, “Darling, you’d be lucky to have your watch left after I wipe the table with you.”
“Big talk. Want to put your little black dress where your mouth is?”
“No.”
“Afraid?” he taunted.
“Absolutely not.”
“Are you sure?”
“The reason I’m not willing to participate is more basic than that.”
“Uh-huh. Sure,” he said, knowing his tone would annoy the hell out of her.
“Strip games of chance are so yesterday.”
Nicholas laughed. “Great excuse for copping out because you’re afraid.”
“No, I’m fashionable. That’s a different thing.”
“Our cousin Darcy fell in love during a game of strip poker.”
“I don’t intent to repeat his mistake.”
Nicholas grabbed her arm. “And yet you offered a game to Jackson.”
She shrugged off his arm instead of answering, did a half-turn and marched around the pool table to line up a better shot. “Are we going to play or talk all night?”
Nicholas sent her a wolfish smile. “I thought we were playing, sweetheart.”
Raven almost growled as she drew back to slam her stick against the white cue ball, which responded by galloping down the table and crashing into three other balls causing them to whirl off in all directions but the one direction they were supposed to go. Raven remained hunched over the table as if in pain before straightening to send him a warning look.
Ducking his head to hide a grin, Nicholas murmured, “Nice shot.”
Raven curled her lip at him and then practically flounced away from the table, heading straight for the liquor cabinet in the far corner of the room.
Watching her, Nicholas called, “I could use a refill.”
She ignored him, taking a small bottle of chilled water from the fridge and guzzling it straight down before she turned back to look at him.
“Or water would be good, too,” Nicholas said, grinning before bending over the table and calculating his angles to make his shot with his customary panache. The ball disappeared into the pocket. After a quick glance at Raven who was sauntering toward him with her hips rolling in a sensuous movement guaranteed to send blood away from his brain, he shot again, wincing as the next ball missed the pocket by a cat’s whisker.
“Oh, too bad,” Raven commented, slapping a bottle of water into his hand as he straightened.
He tucked his stick under his arm and removed the cap. Taking a big gulp, he challenged, “Next time.”
Raven leaned over until her ripe lips were touching his ear. “We’ll see about that, darling.”
The game was on, with both taking their time, using all their skill and discipline to win.
Much later, they were coming down to the final shots. The game was neck and neck.
“Red in the far right pocket,” Raven announced, surveying the remaining balls on the table as she calculated angles and lined up her shot.
Nicholas studied the shot. “A bit cocky, aren’t you?”
“Confident. A little number-one fact of my own,” Raven said, her grin pure recklessness.
“Five bucks says you don’t make it,” he challenged back.
“That’s all you can afford?” Raven teased. “Wouldn’t you like to up the stakes?”
Nicholas studied her. “What have you got in mind?”
“All or nothing.” Raven threw the words down like a challenge.
“Like the game you were playing tonight?” Nicholas asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes narrowed. “Jackson.”
“Lorianne,” she snapped back.
He ran his finger over his top lip. “Ah, Lorianne.”
When he said no more, she finally asked, “What’s up with you and that little blonde? I thought you let that stupid flirting idea go before you left the barn.”
“I did.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
“Darling.” Nicholas smiled. “I do believe you’re jealous.”
“Of what? Of you?” Raven pushed her hair back. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh yes, that’s usually a role the men in your life play, isn’t it?” He offered a look that managed to be disappointed, accusing and amused all at the same time.
Raven stabbed her finger at him. “You’re a fine one to talk. You haven’t been living like a monk.”
Nicholas grinned. “There might have been a few—”
“Blondes. In the past, you were partial to blondes.”
“Maybe that’s why I find Lorianne so delightful.”
Raven stared at him for a moment. Then she leaned close to him. “Did you want to kiss her, Nicholas? You looked very attentive. Did she pout her lips and tease you until you wanted to break?”
He said nothing, just looked at her with an impassive expression on his face. At least he hoped so. With her alluring mouth so close, his juices were starting to stir.
She leaned even closer, bringing her lips against his as she nipped his bottom lip then withdrew an inch. “Can she make your blood boil like I can?”
“What makes you think you can make my blood boil?” he asked, hardly hearing the words because of the roar in his ears.
“Because of what happens when I do this.” She threw her pool stick to the floor, rose on her tiptoes to slip her arms around his neck and kissed him. What started as a teasing gesture on her part quickly turned into something else as he pulled her against him, sliding his palms down her back to cup her buttocks, pulling her up to press against his growing erection.
Raven freed her mouth long enough to say, “This is only a demonstration not a—”
“Shut up,” Nicholas replied, tilting his head to slant his mouth across hers. His tongue teased her lips, opening them as if he was the only man who had the key.
His lips met hers, sinking into the velvet of them, letting the feel of them soothe him even as they excited his senses. He felt as if he was rounding third and coming home. Here, now with Raven in his arms, with her lips caressing his, with her tongue tangling hotly in his mouth, he lost control. He dropped his guard and just felt, let himself live in the moment. There was no yesterday, no tomorrow, there was only now and—
“Raven,” he groaned as he pulled her tighter, swinging around to lift her so she sat on the polished cherry ledge of the pool table. He stepped forward, nudging her legs apart until he pressed against her. With a gasp, Raven spread her legs wider then rocked forward against him to clasp her legs around his hips. He fit there as if he’d been born to do so. Just as his hands were born to caress her, he thought, as he slid them up her back and into her hair to hold her head still for his deepening kiss.
It wasn’t enough.
Lips, tongue and emotions plunging, he removed the soft cashmere cardigan she wore. His hands returned to caress the warm satin of her skin as he slid them over her shoulders. He drew back and looked at her, taking in her tousled hair wound into wild curls by his restless fingers, her flushed cheeks, her hot swollen mouth and eyes stunned with surprise, dreamy with secrets and clouded with desire. The heart-shaped bodice of the little black dress molded lovingly to her breasts, held there by gravity and the slender straps that caressed her shoulders, straps that his fingers toyed with before sliding underneath.
“Do you own any clothes that aren’t sexy as hell?” he breathed in complete wonder.
She focused on him for a moment, eyes suddenly glinting with humor, voice husky with arousal. “Scooby-Doo flannel PJs.”
“Even that doesn’t deter me.” He smiled back as he slipped her straps off her shoulders and followed them down her arms. His gaze shifted to the neckline of her dress as it dipped low, the black jersey practically begging to continue its fall. His fingertips traced the edge of material, meeting in the center cleavage, that mysterious shadow hinting at hidden
delight. He bent his head and traced the neckline with his tongue as his hands came up to her breasts. Raven stirred under his touch, pushing forward to spill over his cupped hands. He rubbed his knuckles over her hard nipples and she moaned. The moan did it. He snapped, leftover edges of control were gone as he pulled her dress to her waist and replaced his knuckles with his mouth.
“I could get drunk on the taste of you,” he murmured, laving first and then pulling her nipple into his mouth to suck as his fingers continued to arouse her.
She pulled his shirt from his waistband, unbuttoning it until she could slide her hands beneath. Her hands explored his chest, fingered his nipples, then continued down to his waistline, slipping under his belt to plunge into his trousers, where his taut muscles hardened into iron strings of steel in response.
He moved one hand and followed her example, easing under her dress to caress her leg as he continued his almost-frantic search for satisfaction. His fingers found lace; soft, exotic lace which edged the miniscule bit of silk that was all that stood between him and her ecstasy.
His other hand caressed her breasts as his fingers continued their quest, teasing, tempting, tormenting until Raven moaned again and bucked against his hips. Pulling him closer, frantic herself, she levered off the ledge and leaned back until she was almost lying on the smooth green felt with him on top of her.
He positioned himself over her, lifted his head and took her lips again as he cupped her, the palm of his hand pressing against her mound, fingers seeking—hard and relentless, he continued until she crested in shudders against his palm, moaning into his mouth in her excitement. Intending to replace his hand with his body, he moved abruptly, his elbow knocking into a ball, sending it sailing to crash against the bumper edge of the table before bouncing back to hit him in the temple.
“What the—”
His confusion was complete as he lifted his head trying to make sense of the interruption. As his eyes collided with dark green felt now graced with the black, white and red-hot sensuality of Raven, he jerked, rising up on his elbows to stare down in horror.
“Good God…”
Raven’s eyes opened slowly, gradually regaining some insight into where she was—and with whom.