“What’d you say?” Tiger yelled.
“I said you’re lucky. I’ve decided to go out and get you a six-pack. I have a few things to drop off at my brother’s, too, so I might be a while. Hang out here and enjoy the movie, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
She wasn’t worried. She’d have to undress in front of him just to get him off the couch.
13
“Don’t do it.”
Sheridan frowned at Cain, who sat across the table from her, then studied her cards again. They were playing poker, something she’d suggested they do. She wasn’t strong enough yet to move around a lot, but she was tired of lying in bed and needed a diversion. Should she ignore him? She was about to raise her bet, but the caution in his voice made her hesitate.
Then it made her suspicious.
“What kind of poker player warns his opponent when he has a good hand?” she asked.
“One with a conscience, I guess,” he said, shrugging.
She studied the pile of money in the center of the table. They’d each put in about $50—not a fortune but she couldn’t afford to lose a lot of money. On her salary, she didn’t have a lot to lose. “You? A conscience?” she teased. “I think you’re bluffing. You’ve probably got a lousy hand, and you’re hoping I’ll fold so you won’t have to.”
A crooked smile curved his lips as his index finger tapped the table. “Do you want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“I’m actually doing my best not to take advantage of you.”
“You don’t have to warn me. I can take care of myself. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a big girl now.”
His eyes slid over her, making her heart pound. “I’ve noticed.”
“But…”
He laughed. “But I’ve also noticed that you’re a shitty poker player.”
Stung, she muttered, “We’ve only been playing for fifteen minutes.”
“I could tell in the first three.”
“That’s such bullshit!” She tossed a red chip into the center of the table. “I’ll raise you ten.”
“Suit yourself.” With a sigh, he promptly threw in a blue chip.
“Wait. Don’t you want to think about it? Obviously, I believe in my hand.”
“I’m satisfied.”
Damn. Now she was into the pot for another ten dollars, he’d just raised his bet by twenty, and she was facing the same decision she’d faced a moment earlier. Should she fold or raise again? “You think I should cut my losses.”
He rubbed his jaw. “That’s exactly what I think.”
“But you could be bluffing.”
“I could be, but I’m not.”
She eyed him over her fan of cards. She was holding three eights, which was the best hand she’d had so far. She wanted to use it to win; if only to show him he didn’t know everything. “I quit now, I lose sixty bucks.”
“If you don’t quit now, you’ll lose more.”
She bit her lip in indecision. “Oh, fine,” she snapped and, with a sound of impatience, laid down her hand.
He glanced at the cards she’d revealed, smiled as if he’d expected as much, and fanned out his own hand. He had a full house.
“You weren’t lying,” she said as he raked the chips toward him.
“Nope.”
“So why’d you warn me? You could’ve won a lot more.”
“I don’t want to financially cripple someone who reminds me so much of my mother.”
She stopped kicking herself for not listening to him sooner. Cain rarely mentioned his past. “I remind you of your mother?”
“Yep.”
Julia Wyatt had been beautiful. Sheridan would’ve been flattered if he’d said she looked like her, but she couldn’t see how the two of them resembled each other at all. “In what way?”
“Everything you feel registers on your face. I don’t think you could tell a convincing lie to save your life.”
That was a problem. She was attempting to lie to him every day, wasn’t she? By pretending he didn’t affect her on a sexual level. By pretending she wasn’t consumed with the thought of letting him touch her again. “It’s a good thing when the people around you can tell how you feel. It means I’m not dark and moody, like you.”
“Dark and moody?”
“Maybe not dark and moody, but…unreadable.”
He cocked his eyebrow at her while dealing the next hand. “Sorry, if you want to know how I feel, you’re going to have to ask.”
“Okay,” she said. “I will. I have a few questions already.”
“Like…”
“Like how did your mother and John Wyatt get together.”
“What does that have to do with expressing my emotions?”
“I’m getting there.”
“We were talking about poker.”
“You have something else to say on the subject of poker?”
“I was about to express my emotions about it.”
She folded her arms. “Fine. Go ahead.”
His smile turned naughty. “I feel bad taking your money from you.”
“That’s…nice,” she said, but she could tell there was more. “But?”
His smile showed more teeth. “But I wouldn’t feel at all bad about taking your clothes.”
“And this is you being honest about your emotions?”
Finished dealing, he put the rest of the cards in the center of the table. “I just wanted you to know that I’m capable of saying what I feel.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Your depth amazes me.”
“That wasn’t the angle I was going after, but I’ll take it. So what do you say?”
“If we changed to some other prize that made you feel less conflicted, I doubt you’d be warning me not to raise my bets.”
“Hell, no,” he said. “You can take care of yourself, remember?”
She remembered that she’d only won a single hand. “No, thanks.”
“It’d make things interesting.”
No, it’d make things dangerous. Sheridan wished it was her competitive spirit that was goading her on, but she knew the temptation came from farther south than her brain. “I’m not about to risk sitting here buck-naked with you sitting over there, wearing all your clothes and an ‘I told you so’ smile.”