I watch as he opens up a deck of cards and starts shuffling them on his leg.

I can’t help but laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” He looks up at me and winks. “You afraid?”

“Who me? May ‘Card Shark’ Wexler? I think not.” I turn around and get to the middle of the bed near the pillows. I cross my legs and tuck my feet under them. This, I can handle. “What’s your poison? Poker? Blackjack?”

“We’ll start with poker.”

“Excellent.” I rub my hands together, thankful that the pressure has temporarily been removed. Maybe after we play for a while and joke around a bit, I’ll feel more comfortable about sleeping with him.

His grin is decidedly sly. “Seven card draw, jokers wild. You lose, you take off an article of clothing.”

Ooooor maybe I won’t feel more comfortable. I guess we’re going to find out.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

I lose the first hand and my shoes. He loses the next three hands, which has him down to his underpants. He wears boxer briefs, in black, of course. His arms rest on his knees, and his poker hand hovers between them. He’s looking at me. “What’s it going to be, May ‘Card Shark’ Wexler? You want any cards?”

I’m holding a pair of threes. That’s it. I’m sweating too, because if I lose this one, I’m taking off my top or my pants. He already put the kibosh on me taking off earrings. Clothing only, that’s the rule.

“Hmmm, yeah. I’ll take four.”

He chuckles as he pulls four cards off the top of the deck. “Oh my, May. I think you’re in a little bit of trouble.”

I look at the cards he selected for me and smile. “Maybe. Maybe not.” I’m completely bluffing. I know this pair of threes with a ten high isn’t going to do jack diddly for me. My only hope is to get him to fold. Folding is a forfeit but without clothing removal.

“I’m going to take one card,” he says, removing one from his hand and taking a new one from the deck.

One card. Oh, crap.

“What’s it going to be?” he asks me. “You ready to go down?”

My face heats up. Go down? Not quite yet.

“I’m not folding, I know that. Maybe you should, though. You’re going to be starkers if you lose another hand.”

“Maybe I want to be starkers.” He winks at me.

I frown. “Have you been losing on purpose?”

“Who, me?” He frowns a little too hard. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m too competitive to lose on purpose.”

Or too chivalrous. I try to replay our earlier hands back in my head. Did he forfeit good cards for bad? I wasn’t paying attention then, and it’s too late now to figure it out. Dammit. And here I thought I was being a card shark for real when what I was probably being was a non-virgin virgin wannabe card shark. Double dammit.

He puts his cards on the bed. “Read ’em and weep.” He has a full house.

I slowly put my cards on the bed in front of me. “Pair of threes, otherwise known as total suckage.”

He leans over and takes my top button in his fingers.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you.” He unbuttons the first one.

I slap his hand away. “Hey! What if I was planning on taking my pants off first?” I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack right here over this stupid deck of cards. We are going to be naked together, and I’m not ready!

He leans back. “Take your pants off then, if you prefer.” He leans back on his hands and grins. “I’ll just wait over here. Your turn to deal, you know.”

“I know.” I say it with my annoyed voice. Standing, I first button my shirt up, all the way to my neck, and then I undo the top button of my pants.

“You nervous?” he asks. He’s not smiling anymore.

“No.”

“Liar.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I’m lying. I am nervous.” I push my pants down to my ankles anyway. Fair is fair; I lost the hand.

“We can quit anytime you want.” He falls onto his back and talks at the ceiling. “I’m kind of tired of cards now anyway.”

I step out of my pants, now wondering if he’s still being a gentleman or if really doesn’t care if he sees me naked. That thought should bring relief, but instead it makes me kind of sad. I hope I didn’t blow it with him.

“What do you want to do instead?” I ask.

“We could watch TV.”

“You said there was nothing good on!” I act outraged when, really, I’m happy. I’m glad he wanted to play strip poker with me. That’s a compliment, right? And he’s smiling, so it can’t be all bad between us.

“I lied. Come on.” He does a back flip off the end of the bed and leaves the room.

“Wait for me!” I run out of the room in just my shirt and underwear.

He’s waiting for me on the couch, the television already on. The dogs are curled up together in a giant dog bed on the floor next to the far side of the couch. Sahara is snoring. Felix is crashed out on his back, his feet in the air. I’m tempted to go pick him up, but I don’t. He’ll sleep all night like that, and I want to be with Ozzie right now anyway.

“Modern Family. Cracks me up.” He points the remote to the wall-mounted television set, and the channel changes. I see the familiar faces of Claire and Phil.

“You don’t seem like the Modern Family type,” I say, lowering myself onto the couch one cushion away from him. I’m near the end, he’s in the middle. The thing is big enough for six people, probably.

He flips himself around and lies on the couch, putting his head in my lap like it’s the most normal thing in the world—the two of us watching a sitcom, half naked, in the sword room. I’m obviously living in Crazy Town.

Instead of overanalyzing something that defies analysis, I sit back and watch the show. My hands find their way to his head where I massage his scalp, lightly drag my hands over his temple and cheek, and play with his ears. They’re soft, where other parts of him are decidedly hard. When he laughs, the entire couch moves. He’s adorable and charming when he’s watching this silly show. It’s definitely my new favorite.

At some point during the first half of the program, one of his hands goes under my thigh. Then a little while later, the other one reaches up and goes behind my back. It doesn’t look very comfortable, but when a commercial comes on, I see how well it can work for both of us. He flips over onto his back and the arm that was under my thigh comes out. His hand floats up to my shirt button, the one I closed at the top of my neck.

I pretend to be enthralled with the excellent cleaning features of the Tide Stick that’s being advertised, while he unbuttons three buttons, revealing the edges of my bra. I laugh at a commercial that has a small dog chasing a cat who took his toy, but can’t keep up the charade when his fingers pull the top of my bra down and he cups my breast.

I tilt my head down and stare into his eyes. He’s all seriousness now.

“I like you on my couch,” he says.

“Aren’t you worried someone from the team is going to come in?”

“No. I have security, remember?” He glances over at the hallway leading to the outer door. “I disabled the lock. No one can get in.”

“Even with the code?”

“Even with the code. You could run around here naked, and no one would ever know.”

The idea makes my ears burn. “You would know.”

“But I’d never tell.” He pulls me down and kisses me on the mouth, his tongue coming out and reaching up for mine. It’s not the most comfortable position in the world, but it’s hot. He’s managed to get me half naked and not self-conscious about it. I can see his hard-on in his boxer briefs, so I know if I just said the word, he’d be all over me. But instead, he lets me go and just looks at me. Watches me for a reaction.

“I’m not as nervous as I was earlier,” I say. I need him to know I appreciate what he’s doing.