Читать книгу Scoring - Kristin Hardy - Страница 2

He clinked his beer bottle with Becka’s. “You’re definitely a better player than I am, but I usually don’t stink as badly as this. I think I need a goal.” He glanced at the table. “I think we ought to bet on the next game.”

“I don’t play for money, Duvall.”

“No money. Something better.” He set his bottle down and traced a finger along her jawbone. “You win, the evening’s over and I never bother you again…. I win, we go to bed.”

She opened her mouth with the intention of telling him to go to hell, but stopped before the words got out. It was the perfect setup, she realized. He was offering her a chance to reel him in, to get him turned on and, thinking he had her, then take the game from him and show him who was really in control. “I think that’s a bet I can live with.”

Mace walked behind her, sliding a slow hand down her hip, and she jolted. He leaned over the table with his pool cue, looking sexy and a little bit dangerous, yet more than capable of taking this game, of taking her.

Uh-oh. “Wait,” she blurted, just as the cue ball cracked into the colored balls, scattering them around the table.

Damn. Too late.