“Very,” she replied without even a moment’s hesitation. “I’d be a pretty shitty lawyer if my face gave away everything I was thinking.”
“Do you consider yourself a good lawyer?”
“I do.” She offered no apology for her surety. Why should she? Then an idea struck. Scooting forward until she sat on the edge of her seat, she crossed her arms and placed them on the table. “What about you, Isaac? Are you any good at your job?”
“The best.”
She’d anticipated as much.
Putting her weight on her elbows, she decided to test the waters. “And how’s your poker face?” She spoke softly so that he’d have to either lean forward to hear her or ask her to speak up. Her gut said that if he was into her, he’d lean in. If he wasn’t, he’d ask her to repeat what she’d said.
He leaned in on the first word.
Score one for intuition.
“Also the best.”
“Are you willing to make a little wager, maybe see which one of us possesses the superior poker face?”
“Perhaps.” He blinked slowly, the heat in his gaze making her clench her thighs. And when he next spoke, she found herself leaning forward to hear him. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“A game.” God, was that breathy voice actually hers? “Seven-card stud. One round. Winner takes all.”
“What’s the prize?”
The urge to put herself out there overruled her common sense and any reservations she’d held on to up until that point. “One night.” She looked down, gauged her timing, then slowly looked up. Met his blazing gaze, licked her lips and lowered her voice even further. “Together. No strings. No regrets.”
His gaze locked on the bare skin of her thigh and lingered longer than could be deemed polite. She tapped the table and his attention snapped back to her.
“Deal.”
A sharp thrill coursed through her and she rose from her seat. Isaac reclined and hooked an arm over the chair back, looking up at her. “I don’t suppose you have a deck of cards handy, do you?”
“What, you don’t keep a set on hand for situations just like this?”
“My spare is in my other suit jacket.”
“Of course.” She swept low and retrieved her clutch and then, with all the casualness she could muster, she inclined her head toward the front door. “Shall we?”
“Shall we what?”
Her stomach somersaulted, rolling over and over before coming to a shaky halt. Thank God it was right side up.
This was the moment when she had to decide. Be bold and brazen, or reserved and, likely, peppered with regret come dawn.
“Bold,” she said so softly that Isaac’s attention focused on her mouth and he seemed to be trying to read her lips.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t hear you.”
Rachel closed her eyes, searched and found her emotional center and whispered a small promise to never again forget who she was, no matter what happened in the next thirty seconds.
She opened her eyes, held out her hand and said, “What do you say we get out of here and find a deck of cards?”
CHAPTER FIVE
ISAAC IMPATIENTLY WAVED off his driver and opened the town car’s rear passenger door for Rachel. He jogged around to the other side and stopped for a moment, his hand resting on the door handle, to regain his composure. Getting his heart rate down into the normal range—a range it hadn’t visited during the last hour—wasn’t optional.
The woman flustered him, and he wasn’t sure whether he hungered for it or abhorred it.
She threatened his self-control like no one had before. Ever.
And she was as sexy as she was impulsive. Impulsiveness was, at best, difficult to predict. At worst? It was dangerous. And without being able to predict her actions and reactions, he was flying blind.
If the conversation with her had proven anything, it was that he didn’t have a solid grip on his reactions to her. For God’s sake, he’d smiled! Impulsively. He’d let himself relax in her company. She was a veritable stranger despite the forty-five minutes they’d spent together. And when he’d tried to withdraw, she’d followed him, leaning across the table and using that seductive voice of hers like a siren. Her offer of one night of unmitigated, irresponsible, unparalleled pleasure had scrambled his brain.
“Poker,” he said softly and shook his head, the urge to grin striking him again without warning.
This time, Isaac managed to quell it, his ironclad emotional control slipping back into place. He could do this. He could play a game of poker with her, enjoy their time together no matter how they spent it and then issue a kind but definitive farewell come morning. That was absolutely within his emotional wheelhouse.
Impulsive or not, Isaac wanted—needed—to see where this might go. Rachel’s spontaneity was a challenge. She kept him on his toes, forced him to engage in the conversation and be wholly present.
It was an odd thing to be that present in a personal conversation. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had.
The door opened and his driver stood, twisting to face Isaac. “Sir? The woman in the back seat...” He hesitated, fidgeting with his tie.
“Yes?”
“She asked me to relay a message.”
“Then relay it.”
“I don’t want to lose my job.”
Isaac’s mouth twitched, though whether he hovered on the border of irritation or humor he couldn’t say. “Just tell me what she said. Verbatim,” he added.
“She said to tell you to either get your ass in the car or take her home where she could play solitaire.”
Laughter nearly choked him, and he couldn’t stop it from breaking free, a sharp sound that was entirely unfamiliar. Realizing his driver’s eyes were nearly bugging out at the fact Isaac was laughing, he tamped down the outburst, cleared his throat and said, “I’m getting in. Run the divider up, pull into traffic and drive.”
“Destination, sir?”
“I’ll let you know.” The man moved to reenter the driver’s seat, but Isaac stopped him. “Oh, and David?”
“Sir?”
“As far as anyone—anyone else is concerned, I left the bar alone. I don’t care if it’s family, friend, coworker or corporate rival, you didn’t see me with anyone tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
Letting himself into the car, he settled into the plush leather seats and breathed a short sigh. There was familiarity, even comfort, in the known, and this car was known. It was his. Something he had arranged so that each and every component suited his preferences.
As directed, the driver raised the partition between the front and back of the car before pulling away from the curb.
Rachel glanced out the window. “I assume we’re going to get cards.”
“If you prefer.”
She looked at him, expression open, not an ounce of pretension or any sign of an agenda visible. “Where would you normally go to get cards?”
“Wherever you prefer.” Light from a smartphone screen lit up the interior, and Rachel started rapidly tapping on the screen. “No need to Google directions. Tell me where you want to go and David will get us there.”
“I’m not Googling directions. I’m texting my emergency contact to let her know where I am, where I’ll be and when I’ll be back.”
“Seeing as I’m with you and don’t know that information, maybe I should give you my cell and you could text me, too.”
She glanced at him then back to her screen, smiling. “Smart-ass.”
“Seriously, Rachel. Where to? David can drive the city for hours, but a destination would be nice.”
Fingers pausing over the screen, she worried her lower lip with her teeth.
Isaac leaned forward and hit the intercom button. “The boat, please, Dav
id.”
“Boat?”
“It’s as good a place as any for me to school you in seven-card stud.”
She laughed, that true laugh of hers that was low and sultry and a type of foreplay all its own. “Where’s the boat?”
“On the harbor.”
“That’s a given, Isaac. I need the name.”
“The Marina.”
Her tapping resumed, but she paused to read a response and then shot him a sharp look. “The Marina?”
“The one and only.”
“Are we going to the clubhouse or do you have a boat?”
“Boat.”
“Slip number?”
He relayed the number and added, from memory, the manager’s name and number as well as his driver’s name and number, watching as she sent all the information to this mysterious emergency contact.
Rachel continued to clutch her phone even when she’d finished typing. She was clearly a good deal more nervous than he’d believed.
Sighing, he reached over and touched her forearm lightly before withdrawing. “Would you prefer I take you home?”
“No.” But she didn’t look at him.
Doubt began to weasel in, its insidious voice filling his mind with all the things that could go wrong, until he finally asked, “What are we doing here, Rachel?”
She swiveled around to face him, then. “My friend made me aware of who you are, Mr. Miller.”
“Isaac, please. And just what did she tell you?”
“That you’re the CEO of Quantum Ventures. That you’re—you’re...” She looked away, worrying her bottom lip.
His breath faltered, an unwilling captive trapped in his chest. He waited. Then he waited some more. When she didn’t continue, wouldn’t look at him, he forced himself to control his breathing. Every inhale and exhale felt forced. Possible attributes this stranger had saddled him with raced through his mind, each one hitting him with surprising, almost crippling force. Admittedly, his own imagination was likely far crueler than the simple truth. Without making a conscious decision, Isaac suddenly found himself filling in the possible blanks out loud, though in a low voice.
“I assume, based on your reaction, that your friend decried me as evil. Or am I perhaps corrupt? Has she found my name on some government watch list? Did she tell you I’m cold? Callous?” All truths—things he’d been called or labels that had been attributed to him at one time or another—that he didn’t want her to have heard. Surprised at his outburst, the shock of it caught him just below the diaphragm and made him suck in a short, sharp breath. Forcing himself to slow down, to regain control of himself and his runaway mouth, he offered a more lighthearted response. “I can confirm for you I’m neither evil nor corrupt, but the watch-list thing? Odds are pretty good she’s right.”
“Cold and callous?” she asked, her voice oddly soft.
“Depends on where you sit on any given issue, but yes. I’ve been called both. I even earned it once. Maybe twice. Okay, fine. Three times. But that’s all I’m copping to.”
“Fair enough.” She sighed and made a show of tucking her phone back into her clutch. “In the interest of full disclosure, you should know I’ve been called psychotic, a ball-busting bitch, heinous, criminally motivated, a ladder-climbing whore and a few other things that make me a potentially unsavory individual to be seen with.”
He slid his glance sideways and found her mouth twitching slightly as if she was fighting the urge to grin. The breath he’d been holding escaped in a surprising rush. “I would expect you to be wise enough to bury those bodies in places they’ll never be found.”
She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Those who sleep with the fishes—”
“Have no tales to tell.”
Rachel chuckled, her smile authentic. Then it faded. “She told me you’re rich.” A pause and she shook her head. “No. That’s not accurate. Casey said you’re ‘filthy’ rich.”
“And if I told you all my money has been thoroughly laundered?”
“I’d ask if it was truly clean.”
“Lily-white,” he said without hesitation. “Smells like Gain detergent.”
“Good to know.”
Shifting to face her, Isaac looked at the first woman to have ever made him forget himself during simple conversation. “Is it a problem, Rachel? That I’m essentially criminally wealthy?” When she hesitated, he felt himself mentally stumble and raced to fill the void. “Ah, I get it. You’re regretting that you didn’t bet more on this poker game now that you know I’m good for it.”
Her peals of laughter rang through the car. “You might be good for it, but I’m not raising the stakes, thanks.”
“We don’t have to do this, Rachel.”
It took a moment for him to realize he was clutching the door handle in anticipation of her answer. One more facet of his control she’d fractured, and the fact irritated him. Forcing himself to breathe slowly and deeply, he released the handle and laid his arm across the back of the seat, fingers resting just inches from her tousled hair “You said it yourself earlier. Honesty. No word games.”
Her chin lifted so rapidly he feared she might suffer whiplash. But when she spoke...
“I don’t want you thinking I made that offer based on your net worth.” She shook her head at the same time she laughed, the sound still rich but somehow a bit smaller in the vast backseat of his town car. “I had no idea who you were.”
“Should you have? Known, that is.”
The look she gave him, one so deep and clearly considering, stalled his next breath. He waited on her answer. Would his money matter? Would it influence her unjustly? He had never given a right damn about what anyone thought about him or his projected “worth.” A man was more than the number of commas on his bank statement. And Rachel’s thoughts where his true worth was concerned? For whatever reason, he felt as if her opinion of him mattered. Like she could matter if he paid this whole evening any attention at all.
Her opinion matters. Nothing more, he mentally clarified. He wouldn’t allow her to get under his skin any more than she already had. He would retain control of himself, would not cede it to a woman he hardly knew, no matter how intelligent, witty or attractive she was. “I’ll ask again. Should you have known, Rachel?”
Her scowl spoke volumes. “Probably.”
“Why?”
“Because...” She bit her bottom lip, her eyebrows winging down as she considered her words. “Just...because.”
“That’s not much justification.”
“I don’t think I owe you justification.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” His voice was even lower now than it had been moments before. Soft, even. Not the voice of the infamous hard-ass the business world knew as Isaac Miller. His boardroom opponents would laugh if they could see him now.
“That look on your face.” She smiled, her features softening in the ambient lighting. She shifted onto her hip to better face him. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“That was an easy yes.”
“I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Fair enough. How in the world did the software program pair us, Isaac? I have to be blunt here. We’re as different as day and night.”
He lifted his hand from the back of the seat and raised a single soft curl from her temple. Pausing, he gave her the chance to object.
She didn’t.
“I have no idea how we were paired. You must’ve answered the questionnaire with great care to land such a catch.”
Her eyes sparkled despite the dim lighting. “Or you did.”
The laugh caught him off guard as it rushed up from somewhere deep and all but inaccessible. He reveled in the endorphin rush. When was the last time he’d laughed like this? The sobering thought tamped down the laughter, though not bef
ore he caught the surprise on her face. “You’re right,” he murmured, twisting the curl with care around his forefinger. “Perhaps it was I who answered with more than a little luck.”
But he hadn’t.
He had rushed through the questionnaire, giving it less than even half-assed answers. He’d had no intention of finding a potential partner. Not even a partner for a single evening. He’d been helping his little brother. Nothing more. But to admit as much to Rachel would be to insult her, to say that his thoughtless answers paired him with such an interesting woman while hers paired her with a man who didn’t give a shit. So he shrugged. “The program was created to dig deeper, to find the common ground that superficial assessments miss. Perhaps there’s more to this thing between us than simple chemistry.”
“In my experience, chemistry—true chemistry—is rarely simple.”
“Then maybe the program’s doing exactly what it was designed to do.” He tugged gently on her curl, his pulse thundering through his head louder and louder as she voluntarily moved into his space. His hand. His touch.
“It’s important to me that you know I didn’t come with you tonight based on your net worth. I couldn’t care less, Isaac.”
“Trust me. If I thought otherwise, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
“You’re the second person to tell me to trust them tonight.”
“So I am.” He let go of her curl, watching it gently bounce back. Then he asked, “What do you want, Rachel? What do you truly want out of this evening?”
“A promise.”
His hackles rose, and she laughed out loud. “Nothing like that. All I want is the guarantee that, whatever happens, it’s all consensual, no strings attached, and we part ways on good terms with no expectations for anything more.”
“Thank God.” He laughed then, entirely self-deprecating.
Rachel smiled, the look a soft one she hadn’t shared until that moment.
“What?”
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