Suddenly, the room grew very still. The whisper of the big hotel casino on the other side of the door--the muted ringing and whirring of the slots, the muffled laughter and music--all faded away. She looked at Beaulieux, and he looked back at her.
"You seem to be short," he said.
She swallowed. "Yes." The word came out a bit breathy.
At last, she was completely alone with her prey. So why was she suddenly feeling as if she was the one being hunted? "I guess I win," he said, making no move to rake in a sizable pot.
"I was--" She moistened her lips.
He quirked a brow, watching her tongue.
"I have this necklace. I was hoping..."
His gaze meandered to the sapphires then up again. "Well now, I do believe that would be against house rules." His expression made it clear he didn't give a damn about rules, house or otherwise.
"I won't tell if you don't."
Again his lip curled in that roguish smile, and her temperature kicked up about ten degrees. Man, oh, man, it should be illegal to look that sexy.
"And how much would you say that little trifle is worth?"
"Five thousand, nine hundred, and eighty-seven dollars."
He leaned back in his chair and chuckled. "Is that so?"
She lifted a shoulder. "I had it appraised recently. So what do you think?"
He picked up what was left of his cheroot and slowly took one last, long pull at it. As she watched his lips, her imagination went into overdrive.
Lord, who was she kidding? The man was a thief, suspected of stealing a million dollars' worth of jewelry from Massachusetts to California--a good portion of which had been insured by Moorefield. Influential family or no, he was going to spend years behind bars, and she had every intention of being the one to put him there. She had no business wondering what his lips would taste like, pressed against hers.
"Okay, it's a deal."
She snapped out of her fantasy, wondering for a second if he'd been reading her thoughts.
"Let's say it's worth an even six thousand," he added.
Giving herself a mental shake, she smiled. "Most generous of you, Mr. Beaulieux."
"Please, call me Beau. It's a bit silly that we've been playing half the night, and I don't even know your name."
"Beau, then." It was the first time he'd said his name, and although both she and her assistant, Ricky, had thoroughly checked his identity before setting up the sting, it was nice to hear it from his own mouth. "Katherine Colfax. I go by Kit."
His eyebrows rose up. "Kit Colfax?"
"Is there a problem?"
His gaze held hers assessingly for a moment. "Not at all." This time, both corners of his mouth curled up. He stubbed out the cheroot. "I believe the bet stands at four thousand. Shall we continue?"
"By all means." Forcing her eyes from his wicked smile, she reached up to unclasp the necklace. She didn't know which was making her more nervous, the thought of losing her job over this outrageous plan, or losing her cool over this outrageous man.
"Uh-uh," he admonished, wagging a finger at her.
The necklace glided into her palm in a glittery pool of blue. "You've changed your mind?"
"Oh, no. But to be strictly fair, you must first use up all your chips."
She blinked. Now, why would he want her to do that? She recounted the chips in front of them. "But then you'd have to ante up to match it. It would take everything you've got."
He grinned. "Worried about me?"
"Of course not. I just thought--"
His grin turned positively diabolical. "Or maybe you're afraid to risk everything you've got."
"Certainly not." She glanced over at his cards. Eight, three, and a queen of hearts. One of his down cards had to be another queen. She'd been watching him carefully all evening, and he played like a pro. His eyes said he was sure he'd win, but the cards said otherwise. Her kings beat his queens no problem. Unless he had three. She prayed he did. Everything depended on him winning the necklace, so she could lay her trap to arrest him.
She gifted him with a smile. "There's no way I'll lose."
She pushed her little pile of chips into the pot and dropped the necklace on top. "That's a raise of thirty-five to you."
He pursed his lips. "So it is." One by one, he tossed his remaining chips to the center of the table, counting them off as he went, until the last one was gone. "There's your thirty-five."
Kit reached out to run over her kings, but his hand shot up in a gesture to halt. "I'm not quite finished yet."
Frowning, she opened her mouth to protest. Her jaw nearly dropped off when he oh-so-casually reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the red chip the bimbo had placed there.
"And I'll raise you five."
Outraged, she leaped to her feet. "That's not fair!"
"Why not? You saw her put it there yourself. And if looks could kill, she'd be six feet under right now." He gave her an impudent wink.
Oh, the nerve of the man! "Don't flatter yourself."
"Now, me. I don't need to. You're doin' a fine job all by your lonesome."
She gasped at the sheer audacity of his statement. The fact that it was true just made it all the more annoying. Damn, it was going to be a pure pleasure to toss his butt in jail.
She struggled to regain a semblance of composure. "All right. I have matching earrings. They'll cover the five hundred."
She didn't like this. It was not part of her plan. But what choice did she have? It would look incredibly suspicious if she folded now over a mere five hundred dollars. He'd never trust her. Besides, she'd have the earrings back in no time, together with the necklace.
In a supple movement, he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. Her breath caught. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, lean hips, powerful thighs--all were encased in perfectly tailored black evening clothes. His jet-black hair fell disarmingly over one eye. She nearly sighed out loud. The women of the world would be losing a prime piece of real estate when he got sent down.
With deliberate ease he sauntered around the table, coming to a halt beside her. She grasped the edge of the table. He was way too close. So close, the heat and the scent of him, smoky from the cheroot, a hint of spice-and-sandalwood cologne, surrounded her. Her pulse tripled madly.
What was with her? She didn't do men anymore. They were demanding, selfish, shallow creatures.
With an unsteady hand, she reached up and pushed her blond hair behind her ear so he could examine one of her earrings. They were emerald-cut studs, matching the sapphires in the necklace.
"Exquisite," he murmured. His fingers softly collided with hers then moved on to brush the outer shell of her ear. His warm breath fanned her cheek, causing stray hairs to tickle her neck. A finger traced around her earlobe.
"They're worth--"
"I'm not interested in the earrings."
Her eyes flew open, and she turned her head, alarmed. His face was so close, their noses practically touched. The angled slash of his cheekbones and square strength of his jaw should have made his expression forbidding, or at least severe. Instead, he looked sensual and provocative.
"But I've got nothing else to offer."
As she watched, his whiskey-colored eyes darkened to a deep mahogany. "Darlin', you've got plenty to offer."
Oh, Lord. This was not in the plan, either. No way was this in the plan.
"What--" Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What is it you want?"
She knew what she wanted. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her so badly her knees were shaking, and she could barely stand in her high heels.
She swallowed heavily.
For a moment, he stared at her mouth then his gaze dropped to her throat, her collarbone, and lower, until it settled on her breasts. His eyes lifted to hers, filled with lambent invitation. There was little doubt what he wanted, either.
"Your dress."
)
Simon "Beau" Beaulieux oozed sensuality--from his bedroom eyes to his broad shoulders to his lilting Louisiana drawl. Kit Colfax knew the parish chief of police always got what he wanted, but to protect her future, she couldn't let him have his way ... or her. Kit sought to put Beau's thieving cousin behind bars. Beau sought to stop her. And painful experience had taught Kit how powerful men operated ... and manipulated. Well, not this lady. Not this time. Sure, Beau had made her feel as she never had before. Made her want to trust him as he so unwaveringly trusted in his cousin's innocence. But was that a lover talking or a deceiver bent on saving his family ... whoever paid the price?
