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It was 1 a.m. and the Medici brothers were ringing in the New Year with a bottle of Scotch and a game of pool. For once, Rafe was finally winning against his older brother Damien. His younger brother Michael, however was nipping at his heels.

“Let’s wrap this up,” Damien said, taking a shot and missing in his haste.

“Anxious to get back to your bride?” Rafe asked, goading him.

“She should be out of the shower by now,” Damien said, a rare smile playing on his lips. “I plan to start the New Year off right.”

“I never thought you’d let a woman come between you and beating me at pool,” Rafe said, sinking a ball into the corner pocket.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t have a woman like Emma waiting for you,” Damien retorted.

Rafe couldn’t prevent a stab of regret. Ever since his disastrous romance with Tabitha Livingstone, he hadn’t let a woman get under his skin. Rafe scratched his next shot and muttered under his breath.

“He’s right about that,” Michael said and shot his ball into the hole. “Yes,” he said in triumph. He lined up his next shot and missed.

Damien glanced at his watch then looked at each of his brothers. He set down his cue and lifted his glass. “To both of you, may you find a woman half as fine as Emma this year.” He took a sip and walked out of the room.

“Then I’ll take the match.” Rafe took the next shot and the next. Two more and he took the game.

“You won,” Michael said.

“Yes, I did,” Rafe said, but the taste of triumph wasn’t nearly as sweet as he’d thought it would be.

“What do you want to do now?” Michael asked, looking as if he too felt at loose ends.

“Blackjack,” Rafe said. “We may not be lucky in love, but I bet we can clean up in cash.”