Blame It on Texas (33 page)

She slipped her hand into the bag and pulled out a
C
.

“I guess you’re lucky,” he said.

She smiled but still looked nervous. “That’s what keeps the game interesting. Luck.” She looked at his swollen hand. “You sure you don’t need to keep those on ice?”

“I’m sure.” He hadn’t thought about his hand since she’d mentioning stripping. “So how does this work?”

“I think I’ll take a glass of wine.” She stood up.

“Nervous?” He grinned at her, not to tease her but hoping to soothe her.

“A little,” she confessed. “Then again, I think you saw everything earlier.”

He laughed. “Pretty much.”

Her cheeks grew slightly rosy. “You want some wine?” She started for the kitchen.

“Yes.” And this time he didn’t stop himself from enjoying the way her butt moved. But holy hell, he wanted her naked and in his arms.

He stood up and tugged on his jeans, knowing things were going to get interesting, and tight. Not that he planned on trying to hide anything. He couldn’t. She’d see it all when he lost his jeans. Having forgotten underwear both times he’d gone to his place, he was going commando. Not that he was into underwear all that much when he was at home.

A smile brushed his lips when he thought about her learning that little fact.

He’d settled back down when she came in with two glasses of red wine and passed him one. “We’ll use the point system,” she said. “Twenty points equals an article of clothing.”

He wondered if she’d played this game before and wanted to believe she hadn’t. Then he wondered about her romantic past. Considering she didn’t take sex lightly, he figured she didn’t have a long list of former lovers. He liked thinking that, too.

He pulled out her seven letters. “So what does the winner get, besides keeping their clothes?”

She hesitated as she lined up her tiles on the wooden base. “I don’t know; I’ve never played this before.”

A lightness filled his chest. “How about breakfast in bed tomorrow?”

She cut her baby blues up and grinned. “I make a mean banana sandwich.”

He laughed. “I think the winner sets the menu.”

Before Tyler had lined up his tiles, he had six possible words. Unfortunately, none were going to get him a piece of clothing, unless he landed on one of the double-word squares.

He watched her study her letters and smile. “You look confident.”

He loved the humor in her eyes. “I am,” she said. “You do know that the first person who plays earns a double-word score?”

“Really?”

“Really. Would you like to see the Scrabble rules?” She picked up the rule pamphlet.

“I trust you.” And even if he didn’t, he wanted to get to the part where they took off their clothes. Things were already tight in his jeans.

She set out her first word—
zephyr
. She looked up. “It means—”

“I know what it means.” He smiled and then calculated her score. The
E
landed on the double letter. With the double-word square added in, she’d earned fifty points. And he’d lost two articles of clothing.

She looked up with a wicked smile.

He countered that smile with one of his own because he’d just figured out his word, and Zoe was about to lose two articles of clothing herself.

Just to make it more fun, he stood and unbuttoned his shirt. Slowly. He stared right at her when he did it, too. By God, he wanted her to enjoy it. Plus, if he set the bar in the presentation of the clothes removed, hopefully, she’d
follow his path and put on a show as well. He opened the shirt, one side at a time, giving her a look at his T-shirt-covered abs. Then winking at her, he slipped his long-sleeve shirt off his shoulders.

He gave the shirt a few swings in the air and then tossed it on the sofa.

She laughed at his little performance. While he contemplated which garment should go next, he ran his hand down his chest to the clasp of his jeans, and then up again. He honestly didn’t know what constituted sexy for a woman, but he knew what he liked when watching a woman take off her clothes, and he wasn’t above playing the game.

Her eyes followed his hand up and then down. His gut tightened with desire to get this game moving along, but teasing her was fun. Dropping back in the chair, he removed his tennis shoes.

She looked at him in puzzlement, but she didn’t say anything.

“You can hold the applause,” he said. “But you can stick bills in my socks anytime.” He held up his socked foot.

“Too bad I’m broke.” She rolled her eyes and then reached into the black velvet bag.

When he started putting down his tiles, she said, “Let me finish. No reason to hurry.”

Except that she was going to be taking off her clothes.

He waited, impatiently, for her to replace her tiles. Finally, she looked up, and he took his turn. He used her
H
in
zephyr
, and laid out the word
hazards
. With the double-word score, that gave him two pieces of clothing.

He smiled. “Would you like my suggestions on what should go first?”

She scowled, but he could see the tease twinkling in her blue eyes. She pulled her legs up on the sofa and slowly unlaced her shoe. When she got one off, she lifted it up. “One.” As she started to work on the other, she added, “And this one will be two.”

“No,” he said. “I counted my shoes as one. They come in a pair.”

She grinned like a little vixen. “Which was an unfortunate mistake on your part. Is a shoe not an article of clothing?”

He studied her suspiciously. “So this is how you’re going to play it.”

“Just playing by the rules.” Then she shrugged oh so innocently.

“And who wrote these rules?”

“I did, of course.” She bent down to finish unlacing her other shoe.

“Come on,” he said. “At least give me your shirt.”

She continued to work on her laces. “Sorry, the participant removing the clothes gets to choose the article.” She took off her other shoe.

He studied the sexy, flirty way she held her shoulders and tilted her head. She was having fun. So was he.

He smiled. “You do know that’s just going to make me work harder.”
And get harder.

“One would hope,” she teased. “For someone with a hundred and eighty IQ, you’re not looking so good.”

He laughed. “We just got started.”

While he drew out his tiles, she refocused on the board. Then using his
R
, she finished her turn with the word
frisky
.

“Hmm. Interesting word choice.” He went to work
figuring out how many clothes she’d earned. With the double-word square, it gave her twenty, with the double letter she made it up to thirty. With her ten in reserve, she’d earned herself two more articles of clothing.

He tried to decide the best move—or he should say, the best removal. He could shock her and remove his pants, which would definitely up the tension, or he could tease her more.

He propped up his right ankle on his left thigh and made a production out of removing his sock. Tossing it with the shirt, he stood up, reached for his fly, undid the button, took the zipper down just a bit, and then pulled it back up.

She watched him, unable to hide the touch of embarrassment that had her cheeks getting red. He decided he enjoyed teasing her. Then he reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out the hem of his tee. Slowly, swaying and flexing his muscles as he did it, he pulled the shirt over his head.

She’d seen him without a shirt on last night, and he knew she enjoyed it, too.

“Meet your approval?” he asked.

Her face brightened. “It’s okay.”

“Just okay?” He put his hand over his heart. “I’m crushed.”

She grinned. “It’s nice.”

“Better. But I was hoping for more.” He sat down and refocused on the game.

He gave his word choices another quick check. The best option was the word
query
. It would give him a triple-word score and earn him fifty-one points and two articles of clothing.

He placed his letters, grinning the whole time. “Take it off,” he said when he finished. “And let’s make it interesting this time.”

She grinned and reached for the button on the top of her blouse.

He rubbed his hands together. “Oh, yeah, good choice.”

She rolled her eyes. “But I’m kidding.” She pulled her foot up and lowered her sock.

“Now that’s just mean.”

She added a little seductive smile as she slowly pulled the sock off. After removing the second sock, she held both her feet up in the air and wiggled her naked toes.

“Damn, you’re cute,” he said.

“Hmm. Cute. I was hoping for something more.”

“Give me more than socks, and you might get more than cute.”

Giggling, she lowered her feet, and he said, “Hey, keep your naked feet where I can see them. I should have some thrill since I’m sitting here without my shirt.”

She laughed. “Foot fetish, huh? I’ve heard about your kind.” She propped her feet up on the coffee table beside the game board.

He adjusted his chair and put his own bare foot beside hers. The sides of their feet brushed against each other. She had tiny feet, feminine, with light pink–painted toenails. He ran his big toe up to her ankle and back down again. It felt good. Maybe he did have a foot fetish.

When he looked up, she was staring at their feet, too. Her expression told him she liked it as much as he did. And if she liked that, wait until he got his hands on her body.

She glanced back at the board. After studying her letters, she went with the word
suave
. It got her eighteen points, and with her seven points left over it got her one article of clothing.

She looked up with a glint of challenge in her eyes. He ran his big toe down the side of her foot again. How quickly could he get this game to the good level? He decided not to push his luck. Best to get her partially naked first. Bending at the waist, he pulled off his other sock.

He sat his right foot on the table, next to hers. “Mine aren’t as pretty as yours, but my second toe is longer than my first, and you do know what that means, right?”

She checked out his feet again and reached for her wine. “I don’t know what that means, but I’ll bet it’s sexual.”

He laughed. “Would it be worth mentioning if it weren’t?” He picked up his glass and took a sip. They stared at each other over their glasses. The look was long and heated.

Then, eager to get more of her clothes off, he focused on the game. He found one twenty-point word using her
Y
, and it fell on a double-word square. He lined up the word
jewelry
. Grinning, he wiggled his brows at her. “Now, it’s going to get interesting. Two articles, baby.”

She sent him another mock frown. “Are you looking at the tiles when you get them?”

“No, I’m lucky,” he said. “I met you, didn’t I?” And the truth of those words hit his heart. He continued to watch her, waiting for her to take something off.

She took a sip of her wine, stood up, and reached for her blouse.

He leaned back. The first button came loose, and then the second. He got a peek at her bra, a white lacy piece of satin that hugged the sweet mounds of flesh. His jeans got tighter, and he knew the bulge was visible, but he no longer cared.

She slipped the shirt off her shoulders.

“Happy?” She looked adorable with her shy smile, wearing just a pair of jeans and a bra.

“Oh, yeah. But not happy enough to forget that you owe me two pieces of clothing.” Damn, he wanted to go to her and pull her against him and help her decide what she lost next. Though in all honesty, he didn’t know which item he wanted her to lose next—the jeans or the bra. His mind brought up an image of her breasts with their rose-colored nipples with a pillow playing peek-a-boo over them. Okay… he’d vote for the bra to go for now.

He waited to see her choice. She reached for her jeans, and he watched as she slipped them down carefully so as not to take the silky pink panties with them.

Pink, like most of her panties in her drawer.

His breath caught when he saw the little triangle of fabric covering what he knew was a patch of red hair, and he decided this choice wasn’t bad, either.

He got a vision of him removing those panties with his teeth. Things got painfully crowded in his jeans, and more than anything, he wanted to lose his pants. He wanted to hold her against him, to rock her in his arms, laugh with her, feel her smile against his chest.

Their eyes met. “I need another glass of wine.” A touch of insecurity laced her voice, but the smile was confident. So he told himself not to worry.

He watched her walk away, her round backside shifting
beneath the pink panties as she moved. His gaze moved up to the hourglass curve of her waist. He remembered how perfectly the palms of his hands fit there. A second image filled his mind. Her on top of him, him buried up to her navel inside her as he held her waist and set the rhythm of their lovemaking.

That image had him standing up and readjusting things in his jeans to prevent zipper burns. The temptation to follow her into the kitchen, remove the wine from her hands, and lead her into the bedroom was strong.

But she’d started this game, and he decided to let her finish it. He could be patient for a little while longer. He had a feeling it was going to be worth the wait.

Ellen had gotten Britney in bed, showered, and had just crawled into bed herself when she listened to Noel’s messages. Each one got more irate. Why hadn’t she been home? Maybe because he hadn’t told her he was coming!

Her phone rang, and ready to give him hell right back, she took the call.

“If you’d told me you were coming, I’d have been here.”

“Excuse me?” The male voice coming from the phone wasn’t Noel’s.

It took about a second to recognize it. “Rick?”

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I… I thought you were someone else. I should have checked the number, sorry.” Then it hit her. “How did you get my cell number?”

He hesitated. “I’m a cop, Ellen. I pretty much can get whatever info I want.”