Any Thursday (Donovans of the Delta) (7 page)

“Nothing is called off.” Smiling, she picked up the cards and began to shuffle. “Strip poker, Jim. Lock the door and ante up.”

He grinned. “My coat against your dress.”

“Done.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Hannah still had her dress.

Jim had lost his coat on the first round. He’d been holding a pair of queens, but Hannah had bluffed him out of the coat with a pair of fives. Sitting in his shirt-sleeves, he watched the expert way Hannah shuffled the cards.

“I admire your style, Dr. Donovan. Beginner’s luck becomes you.”

She gave him a madonna smile and kept on shuffling.

“If that smile is meant to take my mind off the game, it didn’t work. I intend to see you naked.”

“What will it be this time, Jim,” she asked smoothly as she laid the cards on the table for him to cut, “your shirt or your pants?”

“My shirt against your shoes.”

“Only my shoes?”

“I like to undress a woman bit by bit—saving the best till last.”

Luck was with Hannah. Although she’d bluffed to win the first hand, she was holding a sure thing the second time around—three of a kind. She tried to keep a poker face as Jim unbuttoned his shirt. He made a great show of it, pinning her to the chair with a sizzling gaze, taking his own sweet time with each button, acting as if he were stripping for an audience of thousands instead of losing his shirt at poker. The whole performance made her feel hot and irritated. She fanned herself with the cards.

Jim chuckled. “You could turn your head, you know.”

“What?”

“If the sight of my chest bothers you that much, you could look the other way.”

She flung the cards onto the table. “The sight of your chest doesn’t bother me at all. I’ve seen marvelous chests before. I have brothers, you know.”

He decided to be charitable and not point out her obvious slip of the tongue. As he handed her his shirt, he decided that losing this game was even better than winning. It pleased him to see the cool Dr. Hannah Donovan in such a flustered state.

“What do you want of mine this time, Doctor? My pants?”

She struggled to regain her composure. “What I want is for you to show a little more anxiety over losing.”

“Shall I beat my chest? Or better yet”—he leaned across the table and said softly—”you pound my chest.”

“Your deal,” she said curtly.

She took his pants with a pair of twos. She’d played with such brazen abandon that he’d thought she had been holding at least a straight. Or perhaps he hadn’t been thinking at all, he decided, as he rose to take off his pants. Maybe he’d fallen under the spell of her bewitching grin.

His gaze never left hers as he reached for his belt buckle.

“Do you want to call it quits while you’re ahead, Dr. Donovan?”

There was a slight hesitation before she spoke. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re sure?”

She tossed her hair in a gesture of defiant bravado. “What’s the matter, West Coast Warrior? Afraid of what I’ll do to you?”

“No, wildcat. I’m afraid of what I’ll do to you.” His zipper was loud in the pulsing silence of the room.

Hannah squeezed her hands together in her lap. She’d be hogtied before she’d give Jim the satisfaction of knowing they were shaking.

His pants hit the floor with a magnified boom. She sat ramrod straight as he bent over, picked them up, and handed them to her.

“Your winnings.”

She took a deep, steadying breath before she accepted the pants. Why he ever covered up that body with clothes was a mystery to her. She lost the next two hands, primarily, she decided, because she couldn’t keep her eyes off him.

Minus shoes and earrings, she looked down at her hand. “I bet everything,” she said as cool as iced lemonade.

“Everything, Hannah?” He quirked one eyebrow in question. He was holding a full house. “You can’t escape under the cover of bubbles this time.”

Her gaze swept over his bare chest, and she smiled. “Everything.”

“What if you lose, Hannah? I’ll take all of it, you know, every scrap of clothes you’re wearing.”

“So will I.”

“In that case, I call.”

There was a breathless moment while they merely looked into each other’s eyes. He thought she was the boldest, most flamboyant, most exciting woman he’d ever met. A pity he wanted an old-fashioned girl.

She thought he was the brashest, sexiest, most arrogant man she’d ever known. A pity she didn’t have time for a man.

Slowly he laid his cards on the table. Three queens and two tens. A full house.

Her smile was triumphant as she played her cards. Ace, king, queen, jack, and ten of hearts. A royal flush.

He conceded the game. Standing up, he removed his socks, Wadding them together, he tossed them into her lap.

“I’ve never been so thoroughly trounced at poker.” He smiled down at her. “Tell me, Hannah, was it luck or did you cheat?”

“Do you think I’d tell and spoil a perfectly scandalous reputation?” Now that the game had ended, she felt vastly relieved. She’d won; she’d had her revenge, and best of all, the strip show was over. She tucked the socks into his jacket pocket and smiled at him. “By the way, Jim, you have nice legs.”

“It’s good to be loved.” His hands went to the waistband of his briefs.

“Wait.” She stood up and lifted his stack of clothes into her arms. “I’ve decided to be generous.”

He inched the briefs down below his navel. “You won fair and square. I insist.”

“No!”

“No?” He grinned. “Afraid my other body parts will be nice, too, Hannah?”

“You’re impossible.”

“It was your game.” He slid the briefs down another inch.

For a moment Hannah was mesmerized by the dark swirl of hair on his flat stomach. She licked her dry lips as her gaze dropped lower. If he hadn’t chuckled, she might have made a complete fool of herself, standing there imagining what he had in his briefs. Whoever had said revenge was sweet had never dealt with Jim Roman. Thoroughly aggravated at herself, she jerked her head up and glared at him.

“Keep the underwear. I don’t think Greenville is ready for the sight of you naked.” And neither was she. She whirled around and headed toward the door. His mocking laughter followed her through. She sailed across the empty room, bearing his clothes in front of her like a burnt offering. Her heart rate was up, and she felt flushed. Even the brush of his clothes against her skin made her tingle.

Her impetus carried her all the way to the parking lot. She leaned against her van and took several deep, steadying breaths. Lord, what that man did to her! Still holding his clothes, she lifted her face to the sky. It was navy blue velvet and lit with so many stars it looked like an artist’s fantasy. A cool breeze fanned her hot face.

She’d give him three more minutes, she thought, three minutes to wonder how he was going to get across town in his underpants without being stopped by the cops and put in jail. That should teach him that she wasn’t the kind of women he could pluck off the ground, plop onto a filly, and lead away like a child. She smiled. There was something to be said for his audacity.

She glanced down at her watch. He’d had time enough to worry about his predicament. Taking the armload of clothes, she started back toward the clubhouse.

“Going somewhere, Hannah?”

Jim appeared out of the darkness like a giant Greek god. A large white tablecloth was draped over his body, toga-style. For a moment she stood in the parking lot and stared. Never had she seen a man more magnificently suited to wear a toga. He looked even better than he had in his briefs.

“Good grief. Julius Caesar?”

“No. Mark Antony. I’m glad you waited, my serpent of old Nile.” He didn’t move; he simply stood there, a powerful man playing a powerful game.

She didn’t know what bothered her the most—the way Jim Roman looked or the way he called her his serpent of old Nile, Antony’s pet name for Cleopatra. Mark Antony and Cleopatra had been history’s greatest lovers. They’d also been star-crossed, just as she and Jim were.

Her heart rate picked up speed as she faced him. Lovers. The word echoed through her mind. Even as she yearned for him, she denied her feelings. They weren’t lovers; they never would be lovers. They were merely two gamblers who were fated for a casual mating. Unconsciously Hannah jutted her chin out. She was determined that was all they would be— casual bedfellows.

“You’re very resourceful, Jim.”

“I’ve always had to be.”

Something in his tone made her look at his face. Behind the dashing smile was a vulnerable man. For the first time since they’d met, she wondered about his childhood. Her mother had described Jim’s mother as “having had a hard time.” She thought of her own happy, privileged childhood, and guilt slashed through her. She wondered if she’d carried her prank too far.

“I was on my way back with your clothes. I never meant to let you ride across town in your underwear.” She held his clothes out to him.

To her surprise, he lifted her off the ground and spun around with her, laughing. “My beautiful wildcat, do you have any idea how appealing you are when you’re repenting of your mischievous deeds?”

“I am
not
repenting. Put me down.”

He held her aloft as easily as he would a doll. “What will you give me?”

She leaned toward him and practically purred, “Great pain if you don’t.”

“Woman, you drive an irresistible bargain.” He set her on her feet but kept his hand on her waist. “Hannah, be nice to me. This is my last night here.”

“So it is.” The wedding was the next day, then Jim would be gone. Somehow she hadn’t thought of him leaving so soon. He’d become so much a part of the family celebration, she’d been lulled into thinking he belonged in the Delta. But, of course, he didn’t. He belonged in San Francisco as surely as she belonged in Glacier Bay.

She tipped her head back so she could look into his eyes. “How nice do you want me to be?”

“Go dancing with me.”

“Dancing?”

He chuckled. “You had something else in mind?”

“Not in the parking lot.”

His chuckle became an appreciative boom of laughter. “That’s my Hannah, wicked to the very end.” Taking her elbow, he led her toward his rented car.

“Aren’t you going to change first?”

“No. I’ve grown fond of this toga. It lets in the breeze.”

“Has our Mississippi heat been getting to you?”

His gaze stroked over her. “The heat, among other things.” He opened her door and helped her inside.

“You’re really serious about wearing that thing dancing?”

“I intend to have lots of fun watching you explain why you’re dancing with a man wearing a tablecloth.”

 o0o

He drove to his favorite little dive by the waterfront. It was pleasantly smoky and uncrowded. Two couples sat in a corner booth holding hands, and one lone man occupied a barstool. The pianist glanced up and smiled, but never missed a beat.

The bartender called out a greeting as if seeing a man in a tablecloth toga was an everyday occurrence to him. “Glad you’re back, Jim. Bourbon?”

“Not yet, Wayne. Have to dance with my lady.”

He took Hannah in his arms and began to dance.

“I’m no lady.”

“How well I know.” Pulling her closer, he pressed his cheek onto her hair. “Hmmm, nice. What is that fragrance you’re wearing?”

“Lavender.”

“The fragrance of ladies.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You just jogged an old memory.”

Hannah waited to see if he would elaborate, and when he didn’t, she talked on. It helped keep her mind off the slow fire that was building in her.

“When I’m on the job, I can never wear perfume. The sweet smell would attract too much attention. It’s one of my small indulgences when I come home.”

“Along with bubble baths?”

“How did you know?”

“It was a lucky guess. You stayed in that bathroom last night long enough to shrivel.” He smiled down at her. “I’m so glad you didn’t.”

“You were listening?”

“At the door. Have you forgotten that I’m an eavesdropper?”

“I’ve forgotten nothing about you, Jim Roman.”

“And I’ve forgotten nothing about you, Hannah Donovan.” Nor was he likely to, he thought as they moved to the pulsing sensuous beat of the music. Blues would always remind him of this moment, with the Mississippi River whispering its secrets outside the window and Hannah Donovan working her magic in his arms.

They were good together, just as he’d known they would be. She responded to the slightest pressure of his hand, her body moving in perfect rhythm with his.

He felt the tension building inside him until it was desire, full blown and heady. The woman in his arms had woven a spell around him, a spell that almost made him believe he could fall in love with a hellcat and settle down in some sleepy southern town. Or perhaps it was the town itself that had worked the magic. The languid pace of the days, the lack of noise and neon, and the quiet grace of the river had seduced him. He hadn’t thought of crime in the last twenty-four hours nor had he felt his usual overwhelming need for frantic activity.

Hannah pulled back and tipped her face up to his. “You’re so quiet. What are you thinking, Jim?”

“I’m thinking that I’ll miss this little town.”
And you
, he added to himself.

“This little town will miss you.”
And so will I
, she thought. “We don’t often get strangers dancing in tablecloth togas.”

“Is that all they’ll miss?”

“Yes,” she lied.

She moved her head back against his shoulder so she wouldn’t see his charming, lopsided half smile. She wouldn’t allow herself to think of all the reasons for that vulnerable look on his face. She wouldn’t allow herself to speculate about the man beneath that tough-warrior facade. She didn’t want to know whether he’d ever loved or been loved, whether he’d ever been hurt, whether he’d ever been lonesome.

Dancing the way they were—so in tune they were almost one—was too much like being in love. And love had no place in her well-ordered life in the remote fjords of Alaska.

“I should go back,” she said.