“Somewhere more private,” she mused. “Peter took me to Hawaii. I found out later that he leaked our plans to the press so they would show up to take photos.”
Luc met her gaze. “Really?” he said in disbelief.
“Yeah,” she said. “All about the PR.”
“Not on your honeymoon,” he said.
“You can’t tell me that you’ve never exploited the honeymoon angle,” she said, discarding three of her sorry cards and drawing three more sorry cards. “Check.”
“Maybe, but the couples who are really in love just tell me to take a flying—” He broke off, suddenly reaching the conclusion that Gwen had reached for herself.
Silence fell between them.
“You have my sympathy,” he said.
Her pride stung, she raised her chin. “Don’t you dare pity me for what Peter—”
“Because you’re going to lose this hand,” he interjected, laying his full house on the table.
She stared at his cards then hers. One card shy of a full house, she scowled at him. “Beginner’s luck,” she said. “I’ll get you in the next game.”
He laughed. “In your dreams,” he said and scooped up the cards and shuffled them. “Now you owe me.”
“Owe you what?” she asked. “We were only playing for pennies.”
“Pennies translate into favors,” he said, shuffling again. “You wouldn’t play for clothing, so it’ll have to be favors.”
“Favors,” she echoed. “What do you call this fake engagement? Oh, wait, my mistake. That’s blackmail.”
“Exactly,” he said, presenting the deck for her to cut it. “So we’re playing for favors.”
“What if I win the same number of times you do? Doesn’t that just negate the winnings?”
“That won’t happen,” he said. “But if it did, you would get the same number of favors from me.”
“What if I don’t want any favors from you?”
“You will,” he said, meeting her gaze for a long moment that took her breath away.
“Deal,” she said, determined to teach him a lesson.
For the next two hours, they traded victories and secrets. She learned his favorite music, food, beer and pastimes, and he learned hers. It occurred to her that Luc would know more about her preferences after two days than her husband had known after three years.
“First crush?” she asked, preparing to rack up another win for herself.
“Sara Jameson, fourth grade,” he said.
Gwen stared at him in surprise. “You remember her name? I would have thought you’d have dated so many women that their names would run together.”
He shook his head. “If I’m the master of spin, then don’t you think I know how to create it for myself?”
“Are you telling me the playboy image isn’t real?”
“I create my image, then do what I want,” he said.
“You didn’t really answer my question,” she told him.
“I told you the name of my first crush. We didn’t break up until she moved away, freshman year in high school.”
“Wow, that’s longevity.”
“What about you?”
“I was shy, too tall. It took me a while.”
“You had to grow into those legs,” he said, his gaze sliding over her denim-clad figure.
“Tucker Martin,” she said with a sigh. “He had dimples and blue eyes. He was smart and funny.”
“How long did that last?”
“Oh, it never got off the ground. He didn’t notice me,” she said.
He gave a bark of laughter. “Poor sap. Bet he’s kicking himself down the street these days.” He placed his cards on the table. “Full house, again.”
She mentally swore. “You’re impossible.”
“I work at it,” he said. “You owe me another favor.”
She sighed and glanced at the monitor again. The horse had settled down. “I’ll think about that tomorrow,” she said quoting Scarlett O’Hara. “Time for me to go to bed.” She rose and he did too, standing mere inches from her. “Thanks for the amusement.”
“My pleasure. You need to give me one of my favors now,” he said.
A warning instinct flashed through her. “Why?”
“It’s something I need to know for the interview,” he said, moving closer to her.
She should step away from him, but for just a moment, his closeness felt good. “What?”
He lowered his head closer and closer, taking her breath with each corresponding invasion of her space. “I need to know how you taste.”
He gave her three agonizing seconds to protest or refuse, three seconds to turn back or pull away. But Gwen did none of those sensible things, because she wanted to know how he tasted, too.
Five
“You’ve already kissed me,” she said against his lips, distracted by the texture of his mouth, the sensation of his chest beneath her palm.
“That didn’t count,” he muttered.
Her mind scrambled like electrical circuits gone haywire as he rubbed his mouth over hers. Her body instantly heated and she craved more. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt this way before. Had she ever?
“You taste like honey,” he said in a low voice and slid his tongue over her lips.
Instinctively opening for him, she moved closer so that her breasts pressed against his hard chest. She couldn’t withhold a soft moan.
He slid his powerful thigh between hers, and she felt a shocking spike of need. Distantly, she felt him move her against the wall. It was cool against her back, but he was so warm, so strong, so male. And somehow she knew he could take care of her sexually, maybe in every way. Was that possible?
Her emotions ran from one end of the spectrum to the other. Should she stop? Should she go further?
Luc slid his hand underneath her sweater and wrapped his hand around her waist. The sensation of his hand on her bare skin sent her equilibrium in to a tailspin.
She slipped her hands up to his head, giving in to the urge to plunge her fingers through his hair. His groan was gratifying, and he brushed his hard masculinity against her. Sucking his tongue deeper into her mouth, she savored his taste, savored the sensation of him.
Luc slid one of his hands down to her bottom, guiding her against his hardness while he skimmed his other hand up her rib cage to just below her breasts.
She held her breath, dying for his touch. Her nipples strained against her bra. She fought the forbidden urge to pull off her sweater and feel her naked breasts against his bare chest. Her heart pounded against her ribs.
She felt his hand slide to her back and felt the catch of her bra release. One. Two. Three seconds later, she felt his palm cupping her breast.
Gwen sighed against his mouth.
His thumb brushed her nipple and she gasped.
“You feel so good. So good,” he said, French kissing her again.
He rocked inside the cradle of her