by Red Garnier
Her eyes tripled in size. There was no mistaking she was afraid of him as she stood up on quavering legs and started backing away. “I never said it was your fault, Mr. West. All we want is your help. We can’t find the cure yet, but we can definitely boost survival rates. You could do so much for us!”
She laced her hands together as if in prayer and gave him a face that only made him wonder how she looked when a man made love to her, a face which made him want to get her naked and make her look up at him in just that way she was looking at him now. Like he was everything she’d ever wanted and more than she’d ever need.
God.
Had she any idea of what beast she was awakening?
And he was not talking about cancer here!
She thought she was doing the world a good deed … well, she was in for a sorry reality check. She wasn’t taking his millions. She wasn’t taking a damned penny; she’d unsettled him enough.
He caught her before she could retreat another step, and the touch of his bare hand on her bare elbow zapped straight to his balls. It made him hold on to her tighter as his cock twitched painfully inside his pants. “I work like a lunatic here,” he said warningly. “I don’t give away my money, even for pity. But I’ll tell you what. You want my money? I’ll gamble you for it. How about that for your charitable donation?”
Her spine shot up straighter as if the mere thought of him gambling his money away, instead of donating it, affronted her. “I’d be very happy to take your money from you, but I don’t have funds to play your little game.”
“I’ll make it goddamned simple for you. We’ll play for your clothes, lady. Let’s see how saucy you are when you’re bare-butt naked at my place.”
“If you think I will back out of a perfectly good donation merely because you’re a bully and a pervert, think again!”
“So you agree?” he dared.
She stared, wide-eyed for a moment, as though she only just realized what she’d agreed to. Cade raked his gaze over her, and she glared and yanked her elbow free, but he could see the determination in the lift of her chin, and, no, she wasn’t backing out like he assumed she would. “Fine! But I draw the line at my panties and bra, I’m not taking those off.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms, studying her with new eyes. Had she actually agreed to play strip poker with him? Little Miss Pious Charity? “Then you’re only getting half of what I’m willing to give.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How much are we talking about here?”
“How much do you want?” he dared.
She surveyed him, and he could almost see the numbers climbing in her head, as though she thought she was worth a king’s ransom. “Two million,” she said.
He clenched his jaw. “For two, you take it all off.”
“Not if I win.” She yanked the doors open. “Where am I supposed to meet you?”
He squeezed his hands tight at his sides, emotions still roiling in his chest with nowhere to go, sending him to hell with her easy concession. He’d wanted to fight more. He’d wanted an outlet for the things she made him feel. Instead she’d agreed, and Cade stood there, in the middle of his office, pulsing with rage and desire.
He lowered his voice, but it came out gruff and somehow revealed his arousal. “Give me your damned card. I’ll have someone pick you up.”
“There.” She fished out her card from her bag and slapped it card into his hand, her lips stiff as she spoke. “Thank you for your time.”
“My pleasure,” he said, biting his tongue, and then he watched her from his doorway as she walked toward the elevators.
His gut twisted as he surveyed the sway of her hips, studied her shapely calves under her simple skirt, and he started getting worked up as he imagined her without clothes. Oh, fuck, he was going to see her in her panties if it killed him.
It was only when he watched her board the elevator that he realized a quiet had descended across the floor. Everyone seemed to be staring at him like he’d just grown an extra head, and it was uglier than the first.
Straightening, Cade turned and barked, “Get the hell back to work!”
Chapter Two
He wasn’t going to scare her.
Ivy Summers had faced much worse in her short thirty years of life, and she hadn’t been scared so far. Oh, no, she wasn’t letting Mister Cade “Anger Issues” West scare her in the least.
No matter how powerful he was.
How amazingly rich.
Or how pissed off.
Nope. She was not afraid of Cade West, and she repeated this thought like a mantra all day with the hope of engraving it and framing it—proudly—inside her spinning head. Still, her heart pounded like a live, mad trapped chicken in her chest as she rode in the back of the Bentley he’d sent for her. Her palms were sweating and her nerves had been gnawing at her all day.
Because she really was a chicken.
Agonizing over the thought of being bested by Cade West, Ivy stared unseeingly at the book How to Win at Poker she’d rushed to buy right after her meeting with him. The other ladies at the foundation would rather face a firing squad than approach him, and after today, Ivy considered joining their little club.
Cade West was frightening. He was raw, angry, and as close to animal as she’d ever seen a human being in her life. There seemed to be no line of respect with him, like he did not give a damn about rules, unless you invaded his personal space. Which clearly, Ivy had done. Not only by requesting his money, but by mentioning his wife.
And now she was on her way to his place to play a game she’d never played in her life, and all she could do was pray that she got a good donation out of him.
The faces of all the people counting on her success tonight flickered in her mind. She remembered her mother, how bravely she’d fought, and later, how gracefully she’d succumbed with the satisfaction of having given life her everything.
She thought of her friends at the Lincoln Heights Breast Cancer Foundation who had it. They all wanted to fight, but some had no means to, even if they had the will. Ivy wanted to help them. She had to help them. She’d promised herself that she would, and she’d made the promise to them, too, even when Cade West had refused to see her.
Well, he’d seen her now.
And tonight, he might see her in her underwear.
Oh, God, how could she bear it? She’d seen his rage today. It had swirled in the depths of his eyes the instant he’d looked up at her. Along with an unexpected hunger …
A rush of sensations slid under her skin as she remembered his smoldering gaze. He’d snared her, with those eyes, eyes so pale they were almost colorless. She truly had never seen eyes that color before. Or such a raw, unbridled expression as when he’d looked at her.
Imagining those eyes seeing her in only her panties made her woman’s parts tickle so uncomfortably she wanted to scream.
No! She wouldn’t dare let him see her “bare-butt naked,” as he’d said, and she was certainly not going to make it easy for him. Which was why she’d changed. Now she was dressed in so many layers of clothing, she felt roasted in her own skin by the time she arrived at his building.
Her attire seemed to be the first thing he noticed when Mr. I-Crap-on-Cancer West opened the door to his top-floor apartment.
“Did it freeze tonight?”
Her smile felt tight on her face, but the sight of him so close provoked some odd sensations inside of her, and she had trouble speaking. Her physical reactions to him astounded her.
Her insides had seized with his presence, and as they finally unwound, everything resumed at a frantic pace. Her heartbeat, her lung expansion, the blood shooting in torrents down her veins.
He was big, at least six foot three, and he was dark as sin. Everything about him was dark as sin, except the lightness of those eyes, with those dark pupils, watching her with a burning thirst that opened up some unknown carnal impulses within her.
“Or were you planning to move to Iceland?” He stepp
ed aside with a cock of his dark head.
She tried to enter rather breezily and with confidence, which was really hard with all the layers she was wearing. Especially considering she was going to spend the next hours with a very pissed off, possible donor, whom she could not flip off again if she wanted to help her foundation. “I’m very sensitive to air-conditioning,” she said lightly.
“No shit you are, lady.”
He closed the door behind her, and she was surprised to see that his apartment was rather cozy and not as intimidating as the man. It wasn’t over-the-top, one of the money traps she’d heard many millionaires tended to fall into once they had dollars coming out of their ears. No. Cade’s place was manly and tasteful, with incredible views of the city, and furniture that was strikingly simple but also … large and thick. Dark woods. Chunky sofas. All done in chocolate and navy, which blended beautifully with the maple wood floor.
All of a sudden, she heard the click of nails on the hardwood floor, and a huge beastly dog appeared down a hall. It was as obsidian in color and frightening as its owner, and its ears and tail pricked in alarm when it spotted her.
“Don’t even think about it,” Cade growled. “Sit!”
The dog sat, but its ears were still up at attention. Ivy stared at it, strangely compelled by the creature. “What’s it called?”
“His name is Genghis.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“Not if I’m here,” Cade grumbled, and when he patted the dog with his big hands, some jealous sensation gripped inside her stomach as she wondered what it felt like. “He’s a pound dog, but he used to be a fighting dog so he’s … a little rough around the edges.”
Ivy watched as he murmured to Genghis to be at ease, deliciously caught by the gentleness with which he spoke to the dog. She’d seen Cade West before his wife died. She’d glimpsed what lay beneath all that raw anger back then, and now she wasn’t even surprised that he would have rescued an angry dog from the pound. Or that he touched the animal with those gentle, big hands, and spoke to him with almost … affection.
Alarmed by the way this moved her, she started when he spoke behind her. His voice was soft. As soft as the one he’d used on the tamed dog. Filling her with goose bumps as she heard it near her ear. “Can I take your coat?”
She recovered fast and took a safety step away from him with a real smile. “Nice try, mister.”
He scowled darkly and signaled at her. “You can’t seriously expect to stay in all that? Hell, that’s not even fair to the Eskimo you got it from. And what the hell are these? Three scarves?”
He lifted them up to his somber scrutiny, and she nodded and watched them flutter back down.
“You can barely move in there. How many damned sweaters are you wearing?”
His intense scrutiny made her oddly aware of her nipples, her sex, her tongue, her fingers. “Two,” she said, feeling suddenly embarrassed that she was so obviously afraid of losing to him.
“And beneath the damned sweaters?”
“Two … camisoles.”
His glimmering gray eyes raked her, and she felt naked even with all these layers.
“So you’re wearing three scarves, two sweaters, two camisoles, a double padded ski jacket.… how many pants?” His voice dropped on the word “pants,” and she was sweating even harder, nervous already. She only wore one skirt and damned if she shouldn’t have worn pants under it, too. “Well, Ivy?”
Her name on his mouth sent a strange little tremor through her. She shook her head and pushed her loose hair behind her shoulders in a restless gesture. “Maybe you’ll find out, maybe you won’t. Where do you want to do this, then?”
He gestured to the hall where Genghis had appeared moments ago. “Just so you know,” he said, his voice deep and sensual, “I’m going to strip you without even setting a finger on you. I’ll get you down to your panties in less than half an hour.”
“I’ll be the one stripping you of both your clothes and your money.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re sure welcome to try.”
The sound of his laugh unnerved her, and she felt her nipples poke into her bra as he seized her and guided her to the wide carpet that stretched across his living room. She settled down on the carpet rather than at the table, then watched as he went to the kitchen. She could hear him running water, washing his hands, before he came out with two cups of coffee and a bowl of assorted dark chocolates. The brief contact of his hand as he passed her a cup made her skin tingle all the way to her toes.
“I assume that, like me, you’d rather stay sharp and pass on the alcohol?”
He settled down on the carpet a few feet across from her, and Ivy couldn’t resist popping in a chocolate truffle that melted in her mouth. She almost moaned as she swallowed, nodding at his words. His eyes seemed not to miss the pleasure in her expression, and his pupils went blacker as he watched her.
His voice dropped a decibel. “All right then, let’s do this. Care to shuffle, or do you want me to?”
His voice was firm, but rough around the edges, and his lashes dark and thick, framing those brilliant pale eyes that were a vibrant contrast to the tan of his skin. Those eyes watched her like his dog watched her from the far end corner; without an ounce of trust and like she might make an appetizing dinner.
The dog’s gaze didn’t alarm her; but the way her insides heated at the man’s gaze did.
“You do it,” she whispered, looking away so she could remember the rules in her head. They both had to put money on an opening bet, and if he raised it, she would have to bet more. She started by placing one of her scarves in the center. He placed a part of his blue chips.
“How much are they worth?”
“A hundred thousand each.”
She hoped he didn’t notice that she almost choked on her breath, for how could any scarf be worth that? Her heart pounded as he leaned back and expertly shuffled the cards with one hand.
“In fairness to you, I will open and raise you with money, and only discard an article of clothing if I lose.”
She nodded, grateful that she would not be the only near-naked person in the room. Maybe he wasn’t such a hopeless case after all.
The game began … and after the first few rounds, Ivy had removed her three scarves and one of her sweaters, while he’d only removed his belt.
The next opening bet, she had to remove her second sweater, hating that his stack of chips was still almost full, and Ivy was getting more and more naked.
“Deal me some good cards, Mr. West, or I’ll think you’re cheating over there.”
He cocked a brow and dealt their hands, sliding her five cards over the carpet, closer to her. “We’re playing strip poker. We were past Mr. West three scarves ago. Unless you have a problem with my name?”
“I don’t have a problem with your name. Only your attitude.”
His eyebrows rose. “Didn’t they explain to you how to kiss ass in charity school?”
She stared at her cards. “I think that right now, you want to see me naked as much as I want your donation, Mr. West.”
“Cade.”
“Cade.”
“Try it without the sarcasm, darling.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “When you call me Ivy, without the sarcasm.”
“Ivy. Ivy. … Ivy.”
She almost shuddered at the triple dose of sensuality he managed to infuse into her short name, almost liquefying by the third time he murmured it. Acutely aware of her vagina aching under her panties, she looked back at her hand, her pulse accelerating. The atmosphere was intimate. Only a few lamps were flicked on, and the sun had just set in the distance. Outside, the city began to come alive with lights.
Discomfortingly aware of the sound of his breathing, slow and deep, especially when compared to the sound of hers, which was much faster, Ivy changed three of her cards and was delighted to end up with a flush.
Cade had only a pair of Jacks.
&nbs
p; He cocked a brow and dropped his hands to his shirt, pulling it off with a hard yank that made every muscle beneath it ripple.
Her breath stalled at the sight of his naked chest. His arms were corded and with every possible muscle perfectly delineated. A thin line of hair formed below his navel and traveled beneath the band of his jeans. His abs were ripped, every square of him. Her gaze traveled upward again, to his face, to those kissable lips, those angry eyebrows, that silken sable hair, and those high cheekbones and that square jaw.
He was smiling, really smiling for the first time in this whole nerve-racking night, and the sight gripped her gut and squeezed tight. It was a good look on him. A really good look on him, unfortunately.
“You’re going to go home and dream about me now, aren’t you, Ivy?”
Those unnaturally pale eyes were glowing with challenge. They filled her with images of them, having angry sex together.
“It would be a nightmare.”
“More like a fantasy.”
“You’re arrogant.”
“I’m right.”
He picked up the pile of cards and dealt again in silence. He exchanged two cards, while Ivy exchanged four. He nodded at the cards she held to her chest like miniature shields, for she felt already naked in her camisole and skirt. “Show me your game and I’ll show you mine.”
Heart pounding, she lowered her cards. She wasn’t sure what she feared most: if she was more afraid of taking off her knee-length skirt and remaining in a cami and underwear, or of him taking off his pants and showing her more of his sinful body.
His body had been made to perfection. He had a male body to drool over, fantasize over, and lose your ever loving mind over.
She forced her eyes down at their cards. Cade had a full house of eights. Ivy had a pair of Kings.
Shit.
Bye-bye skirt.
With a smug smile on his face, Cade leaned back and watched her take off her skirt. Her cheeks itched with heat as she stood, and her hair fell to cover her face as she unzipped and bent to sashay the material off her hips. A strange edginess swamped her as she kicked it off to the side, searching deep inside her for courage before she faced him.
