I looked up to see his lips—dear God those lips—moving into a grin. “Thank you. And you look beautiful.” His gaze flicked over my body. “Bastian’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw you.”
I took a sip of whiskey. “What about your eyes?”
“They’re very much appreciating the view,” he said, his grin moving into a flirty little smirk.
I felt hot. Happy.
I kept sipping on my cocktail.
Charlie set his drink on the bar. “But really. Rebuilding after losing yourself like that can’t be easy. I think it’s cool that you took some time to figure out who you really are. Probably would’ve been easier for you to dive right back in and try to find someone else to tell you. But you decided to sit with yourself for a while. See what you were about. See if you could heal on your own.” His eyes, intelligent, searched mine. “That’s a really hard fucking thing to do, Jane.”
“Thanks,” I breathed.
He got it. Got what I was saying. What I’d gone through.
The blue in his eyes was searing now. I looked down at my drink again. My heart had twisted itself into knots in my chest and was beating weirdly. Wildly.
“And yeah, the temptation was always there to just fill that voice with someone else,” I continued. “For a hot minute I thought that’s what moving on meant. That’s what building a new life meant—being with someone new. I hated being single. So I flew all over the world, looking for that someone. Someone who was going to fix me. Figure me out. But after some soul searching and a hell of a lot of therapy, I actually started to enjoy being on my own. Still do.” I sipped my drink. Looked back up. “Are you divorced? You seem to know about this stuff.”
“I’m not.” Charlie lifted his glass and took a sip, looking away. He sucked a breath through his teeth. I got the feeling he was doing the same math I’d just done. Deciding whether or not to share.
I wanted him to share. I wanted to know more about him. About the circumstances that had formed this gorgeous, gorgeously aware guy.
“Did you lose yourself, then?” I asked.
“No. I lost someone else. My mom died when I was in my twenties,” he said without looking up. “My dad was never really in the picture, so after she was gone, it was just me against the world. I didn’t have anything—family, money.”
My heart clenched. So Charlie was self-made.
He was also an orphan, like me.
“My parents died when I was sixteen,” I said softly. “It’s like a nuclear bomb being dropped on your life. The landscape’s completely different after that.”
His eyes flicked to meet mine. The pain I saw there—the struggle—it took my breath away. Because it was so intense and so real?
Because I recognized it. I knew that pain, too bloody well.
“Yes,” he said. “And it’ll never be the same again. There’s just the before, and then—boom—the after.”
“Exactly.” Exactly.
I held his gaze for one beat. Then another. The air between us tightened. Thrummed with electricity, making the hair on my arms and on the back of my neck prickle to life.
My heart felt like a bubble, floating weightlessly around my chest.
Charlie was the first one to look away. He lifted his glass with his thumb and middle finger, tapping it against the bar before bringing it to his lips. He looked…uncomfortable? I still couldn’t tell.
I ran my tongue along my bottom lip. Scoffed. “Sorry. This conversation got really heavy really fast.”
“No need to apologize,” he said, shrugging. When he met my eyes, whatever discomfort that had been there was gone. “For a princess, you’re pretty easy to talk to.”
I resisted the urge to bite my lip. “For a douchebag, you’re a pretty nice bloke.”
“‘Nice’?” His eyes went wide, even as he continued grinning. “Nice? C’mon, Jane, you’re killing me tonight. First you say whiskey tastes better than me, then you call me nice? Am I really that fucking bland?”
Laughing, I tilted my glass on the bar to touch his. Our fingers brushed. My body lit up. Like there was a direct wire between the pads of my fingers and my cunt, currents of electricity bolting from Charlie’s touch right to my clit.
Underneath the bar, I squeezed my legs together.
“To be fair,” I said. “I haven’t tasted you, so…”
Our fingers were still touching as Charlie looked down at me. I could smell him. That sandalwood scent on his skin. He hovered over me, half a head taller, so handsome it almost hurt to look at him.
It did hurt. I was so physically turned on, so mentally aroused, I wanted to scream. It was a deadly combination.
He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. His eyes moved to my mouth.
“Yet. You haven’t tasted me yet.”
A crack of lightning-fast lust split me in two, landing with a throb between my legs. I wanted to take this man home. Now. All night—I wanted him over me and inside me all bloody night.
“Charlie—”
I was cut off by an eruption of voices and claps behind me. His eyes moved over my shoulder.
“Looks like the tables are open.” He looked at me. “Shall we?”
Chapter Nine
Charlie
I let out a silent sigh of relief as we made our way to the tables. I needed a little space. A little…time to regroup. Jane kept catching me off guard, which made it difficult to stay focused.
I’d never met a mark like her. She was a world away from spoiled daddy’s girls like Veronica. Jane was wealthier and way more famous than anyone else I’d conned. But she had this down to earth energy that was completely at odds with her background. At least in my head. I knew there had to be rich people out there who weren’t painful, awful human beings. I’d just never met one until now. Hell, I’d never had a single thing in common with any of my marks. But Jane and I—we had so much in common it was almost ridiculous.
That didn’t mean Jane was necessarily a good person. Experience told me it’d only be a matter of time before she showed her true colors. But it was certainly taking a lot longer than I’d expected.
Which made me wonder what the hell I’d do if these were her true colors. If she really was this bright, interesting, kind person. Jimmy only had us con assholes. People who needed the karmic scales balanced for them. If Jane was better than that though…
I shoved the thought from my head. Mom had wanted us to do better. But for Owen and I, better meant paying off our debt to Jimmy and keeping the shop open. Nothing was more important than that.
Not this girl, and not my conscience.
Even if this girl was ridiculously sexy. I snuck a glance at her from the corner of my eye. I could just make out the circles of her nipples through her blouse. She had this tight body, not small but shapely and athletic. She clearly worked out; I wondered what she did for exercise. Part of me assumed it’d be something ridiculous—polo or dressage or fifty-pound Pilates classes.
But another part thought maybe not so much. Maybe she actually boxed or something. I smiled at the image of Jane in a sports bra and boxing gloves, pummeling the shit out of some poor dude who’d, like me, wrongly assumed she was a tenderfoot princess-and-the-pea type.
“What?” she asked, startling me from my thoughts.
I blinked. Shit, I’d been staring at her.
“Sorry. I—” I what? I was staring at you like a creeper because I think you’re gorgeous and I’m having way too much fun with you and I can’t figure out what the hell that means?
“I have no excuse,” I said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
Jane’s lips twitched.
“That’s all right.” She nodded at the green baize table we’d bellied up to. A small crowd had already gathered around it. “Where did you learn to play?”
“My mom actually taught me,” I said. “We didn’t have much money growing up, so we spent a lot of time at our kitchen table playing cards. Started with
solitaire, gin rummy. Spit.”
“Spit!” Jane’s face lit up. “I loved that game. Although my brothers always cheated and ended up getting in fistfights with each other over it.”
The thought was there before I could catch it. Mom would love her. In my head I saw the two of them in our old kitchen. Heads bent together, holding their cards over their mouths as they exchanged conspiratorial whispers. As they fleeced Owen and me for the two dozen pennies we had on the table.
Two totally different worlds, coming together over a game of spit. Sounded ridiculous. But in my head, it worked.
“Spit?” I said, draining my drink. “Really? You didn’t, like, ride ponies or go tubing behind your yacht?”
Her eyes danced as she sipped on hers. “We did that stuff, too. But all kids get bored. I think cards were one of the few things that shut all four of us up for more than ten minutes at a time.”
“Were you any good?”
“Was I good.” She scoffed teasingly, rolling her eyes. “Charlie, I was the bloody best at spit. I won every time. Won most of the fistfights, too.”
“Of course you did,” I said. I was staring at her again.
She held up her arm and curled it, flexing her bicep. “With these guns, how could I not?”
Without thinking, I reached out and gave that bicep a squeeze.
“Jesus, you really do have some muscle there.”
Her smile broadened. “Honed over years of being the only girl in a house full of boys. I kicked ass in my day.”
“I bet you still do.”
Her eyes were still dancing. “When the occasion calls for it. So.” She tilted her head toward the table. “Tell me about blackjack.”
“Right.” I cleared my throat, grateful for the distraction. “So the whole point of blackjack is getting to 21 without busting.”
“Sounds easy enough,” she said, watching as the dealer dealt two cards each to the players at the table.
“It is,” I replied. “Easy to lose, too.”
Jane turned her head to look up at me. Our mouths were close. Her teeth were perfect. Even and white. Her lips looked soft. No gloss. No lipstick. She had to be wearing the cherry chapstick.
Had to be.
Focus. I had to focus on the task at hand, not on Jane’s lips.
“Good thing I’ve got a whiz kid here to make sure that doesn’t happen,” she said.
I managed a grin, inclining my head. “It’s an honor to debauch you with my knowledge of gambling, Highness. I shall take my debauching duties quite seriously.”
Jane laughed and put her hands on the back of an empty chair. “All right. Let the debauchery begin.”
The dealer flipped the first card over.
A Queen.
She slipped the second over.
A King.
The table went nuts. Jane stared at her cards in disbelief for a minute before throwing up her arms. She high-fived everyone at the table, then slid the dealer a $50 chip as a tip, just how I’d taught her.
She turned to me and, smiling hard, launched herself into my arms.
“Ooof,” I said, trying—failing—not to smile myself.
“Have you ever seen a hand like that?” she said. “Not bloody likely!”
Her unbridled enthusiasm made me laugh, even as her breasts pressed into my chest made me…a lot of things. Horny most of all. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against me, inhaling her perfume. She arched into me, her arms curling around my neck. My body lit up.
Down, boy.
Jane was having fun. The con was working. Now, more than ever, I had to keep calm. Stay in control.
It was just so fucking hard when she was like this. Lit up and giggly and bonding with everyone at the club over illegal games of chance.
I was getting fucking hard.
When was she going to turn into a Veronica?
Now would be a good time.
A really good time, before things really got out of hand. It was my job to make these women have fun. To make sure dates like this one went well. I’d always had to try really, really hard to make that happen. But tonight, it was happening without me trying at all.
I was having a blast. So was Jane. We were hitting it off for real.
Again—where the fuck did that leave me? It was a good thing, because she’d want to see me again. Which meant I’d be one step closer to finishing the job.
But I couldn’t help but feel it might turn out to be a bad one, too. This was entirely new territory. I didn’t know my way around it yet.
“I couldn’t believe it,” she said. “I got those aces, which I split, and then that pair of eights, so I had to split again—and then the eleven, I doubled down—”
“And you fucking won.” I released her. Her hands lingered on me for another half beat before she fell back into her seat, eyes bright, color high. “I’ve taught you well.”
Jane wagged her brows as she brought her second Old Fashioned to her lips. “Or maybe I just played well.”
“There she is,” I said. Without thinking, I reached down for her drink (I’d already finished mine). She passed it to me without hesitation. Easily. Casually, like we’d been sharing drinks forever. “The haughty princess. I knew she was in there somewhere.”
If only.
Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms. “You have to admit I’m a fast learner.”
“You are,” I said. I meant it. I’d taught her the basics of blackjack—splitting aces and eights, doubling down on elevens, when to hit, when to stay, how to tip the dealers—but after about ten minutes, she was winning all on her own. Was there anything this woman couldn’t do? “I’m not the one Monica should be worrying about.”
Jane tapped her fist on the green baize table, her eyes flicking over the pile of chips in front of her. “I probably should stop while I’m ahead, yeah?”
I checked my watch. Jesus, I hadn’t realized it was so late. The night was getting away from me.
This whole fucking thing was getting away from me. Which meant I needed to end this date. The sooner, the better. Before I did something stupid.
“Probably a good bet,” I said.
“Ha,” she said, smiling. The chips clicked happily as she counted them into neat stacks. “I see what you did there.”
I helped her carry the chips over to the cage. She pointed to the sign.
“This is one cage I don’t mind.”
I blinked. Then I grinned, remembering the cage comment I’d made yesterday on the terrace.
Had that really only been yesterday? I felt like I’d covered so much ground with Jane already. Days’ worth.
“The only cage where you feel free,” I said.
Her brown eyes were soft when they met mine. A little wet with laughter.
“Yeah,” she said. “Look at you, bringing it full circle. Are you always so clever?”
I stepped a little closer. But then I caught myself, putting my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“Only with you, I think.” I shrugged. “I know you’ll appreciate it. You’re very clever yourself.”
Jane rolled her eyes. But she was still smiling when she put a hand to my chest and gave me a gentle, playful push.
“I do. Appreciate it. Even if it is a little shameless.”
I flashed her a grin. “Don’t forget, I am a douchebag.”
“No you’re not,” she replied. Her smile faded a little bit. Her eyes searched my face. “I’m not sure what you are, Charlie. But it’s not a douchebag.”
Heat—a new kind, unpleasant—gathered inside my collar and along the edge of my scalp.
I cleared my throat. Looked away, nodding at the stack of bills the cashier was holding out. “Don’t forget to take your cash.”
Chapter Ten
Charlie
I needed this night to end. I felt like I was on the edge. The edge of what, I didn’t know.
But I still walked Jane to her door. It was t
he polite thing to do. And it would allow me to case the exterior of her apartment one more time.
Only I wasn’t doing much casing, because I was too busy keeping my eyes glued to my toes so I wouldn’t look at Jane as she walked beside me. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Except for the low rumble of the Range Rover’s engine behind us, the night was quiet. Like even the air was holding its breath.
The enormous gas lamp beside Jane’s door coated everything in slippery copper light.
Usually, I was relieved when a date with a mark was done. But tonight, I felt…bummed. Confused.
Attracted. I was really attracted to Jane.
I was all of those things, and it was driving me crazy.
We climbed up the two steps to her door, our footsteps landing in unison.
Jane turned on her heel to face me. Her eyes reflected the flame of the gas lamp. They were literally on fire. Liquid with heat.
“I had the best time tonight,” she said. “I mean that, Charlie. I’m not using the word ‘lovely’ on purpose. Lovely doesn’t do this date justice.”
“I told you I’m a man of my word,” I replied, managing a smile. “I’m glad you had a good time. So did I.”
Jane was toying with her bottom lip. She tilted her head toward the door.
“Would you like to come in for a drink?”
I looked at her. Let out a breath. My mind raced. My cock was screaming.
Fuck.
I’d never been even remotely tempted to go to bed with a mark. But now I wanted to.
I wanted to go to bed with Jane badly. In that moment, her eyes on mine, I wanted to break all my rules with her. Put my hands on her body and make her say my name, over and over again as she came. When was the last time she’d been properly fucked? None of those douchebags at the Ascot could do Jane justice.
I would.
I so fucking would.
But I couldn’t. This wasn’t a real date. This was a con. Even if I really was a douche, and I broke my rule and slept with her, maybe Jane would be done with me. She’d all but said she was just looking for a hook up. I needed to draw this out a little. Give myself time to work my way into her confidence. Into her apartment.
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