Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2) (16 page)

Beth fought back tears behind the blindfold.

What a fool she was.

There was a thump outside in the hall and she jumped, wringing her hands together. She let out a long, shaky sigh.

Oh God! She was an idiot for thinking she could do this!  A fool for imagining she could fit in with these people and play a game where she didn’t know the rules and couldn’t imagine the stakes. All she knew about
that
stuff
came from watching
Sex in the City
on the sly with the sound turned off, so she only knew half the story even then.

She let out another uneven breath.

She should start walking home
right now
. Forget about waiting for John. Forget about trying to preserve her dignity. She didn’t belong here. Never would.

But just as she decided to reach up and remove her blindfold… the latch of the door snicked open.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
____________________

“T
ELL ME ABOUT your business. What’s your specialty? How do you market yourselves? Are you into using eco-friendly materials? Where do you see yourself in five years?”

Liz and Carter had retreated to the corner of the living room after dinner to play a game of chess. Carter glanced up, his hand hovering over one of his pawns. “
Sheesh
. I haven’t felt grilled like this since I got caught with Beth Peabody behind Old Man Richard’s barn.” He held her gaze. “Nothing happened.”

“Yes, well, she’s a lesbian. I could have told you that wasn’t going to happen.” Liz felt her face flush. “Anyway. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. It’s just… stream-lining and improving business operations is what I do.”

Carter shrugged and picked up his pawn. “We do a lot of hardscapes. I like building stone walls. Word of mouth, I guess.” He paused. “What was that last one? Oh, yeah. Five years?” He blew out a breath. “Damned if I know.” He set the pawn down again.

“You can only jump two spaces the first time you move your pawn.”

Liz reached out to move his pawn back into position, inadvertently touching his hand as she did so. A warm tingle, not so much electricity as a sweet heat, infused her fingertips. She rubbed her fingers down her thigh under the table and picked up her tumbler of wine before she got the urge to touch him again.

He’s too close.

Technically, he was a respectable distance away. Across the table, in fact, but the table was small, and if she wasn’t careful, his knee would occasionally knock against hers, making her acutely aware of the earthy, richly masculine scent of him as he bent his head over the chess board.

He tapped his fingers on the side of his can of soda as he contemplated his move.

“Really, you don’t have to over-think it,” she said. “I haven’t played in years. Probably you were the last person I played.”

“How come?”

“Gr—That is, I really haven’t had a lot of opportunities.”

“Doesn’t like chess, huh?”

“Who?” she evaded, knowing exactly who he meant.

“Your interoffice guy.”

“He’s not—Move your knight or I’ll get him with my bishop.”

“Thanks. You’re blowing my concentration is all,” he said amiably.

“Maybe you should concentrate on the game instead of trying to stir up gossip.”

“You’re not playing fair. You plied me with good food, liquored me up and now you’re distracting me while I’m planning my next move.”

“The wine is technically your fault, and I’m just sitting here.”

He glanced up, his eyes sliding warmly over her face, pausing a moment at the base of her neck, leaving a trail of awareness wherever they lingered. “Like I said. Distracting.”

Liz bit her lip and studied the board. No man should be blessed with lashes that thick and dark. She captured his other knight. Smiled. “I really do enjoy chess, though. Thanks for suggesting it.”

“Of course you enjoy it. You’re winning.”

“As I recall, we used to be pretty evenly matched. That is, when you were paying attention.”

“I’m paying attention.” He took one of her pawns and picked up her wine tumbler. Took a sip.

“I thought you were done for the night,” she commented, oddly excited by the small intimacy of having him drink from her glass.

“Not even close,” he smiled.

She took his second rook.

“Ouch,” he winced. “You’re ruthless tonight.”

“Not ruthless. Focused.”

“I’ve always had a hard time with that.” He leaned forward and captured her queen. “But sometimes I can pull it together.
Checkmate
, by the way.”

“What?
”
Liz studied the board a moment then threw her hands up in defeat. “I can’t believe it! You’ve got me!”

“
Ah
,” he sighed. “Could you say that again? I so love hearing those words.”

She threw him a glance as she cleared the board. “Please. Don’t tell me you’re still a gloater.”

“A gloater? Would you deny me the pleasure of my victory?
Tsk. Tsk.
Don’t tell me you’re still a poor sport.”

“I was never a poor sport. I just enjoy winning more than losing.”

He grinned and finished her wine. “So do I.”

The air in the room sparked with awareness as Carter held her gaze. She didn’t think they were talking about chess anymore, but it was hard to tell. He had a perpetual air of casual indifference which made it nearly impossible to tell whether he was serious.

She set the chess set on the shelf and smoothed her shirt.

“Well. It’s getting late. I should probably go,” he said, rising from the table. “Thanks for dinner. It was terrific.”

“You’re welcome. Did you want any cookies? For the road, I mean?”

“You have to ask?”

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Liz hurried to the kitchen, pulled a plastic bag from the drawer and filled it with cookies.

“You spoil me.”

Liz jumped as Carter reached from behind her to take the bag of cookies. Good heavens, the man moved like a cat.

She smoothed her hair and darted a glance at the kitchen clock.
9:53
? How did it get so late? “When will I see you again? I mean, when do you expect to start on the patio?”

Carter swallowed a bite of cookie he’d snitched from the bag. “Weather allowing, tomorrow work for you?”

“To—” The ring of her cell phone interrupted. Liz jumped and pulled her phone from her pocket. She set it face down on the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you need to get that?”

“No. It’ll go to voicemail. I can call back. So, tom—?” Again, the phone rang.

“Go ahead and pick up. I know my way out.”

Liz nodded and picked up the phone. She followed Carter to the living room. The front door clicked shut as she answered the call. “Grant! You’re back! Hi… Sorry. I was just... away from the phone for a moment.”

“I thought I might have had the wrong number.  So, did you get the e-mail I sent you on N.S. Utilities?”

“Not yet. I haven’t checked e-mail since this morning. I thought you—”

“Liz?” Liz spun around to find the front door open again, Carter poking his head around the jamb. “Thought you might want to know your brother’s here.”

“My—?” She turned back to the phone. “I’m going to have to call you back. John’s just arrived.”

“Is that who I heard in the background?” Grant asked.

“No. That was...
yes!
Right. My brother. I really should go. I’ll call you later?”

“Check your e-mail, Liz. I need your input before the meeting tomorrow.”

“I’ll check it before I go to bed. Promise.”

Liz hung up and walked to the door.

“Your folks?” Carter asked.

“Business call.”

Carter’s eyes met hers. “Kind of late for business.”

Liz ignored the comment as she watched her brother negotiate the steps at the end of the walk. She paled. John was clearly intoxicated or... something.

“Thanks for coming,” she said too brightly, hoping Carter would take the hint and leave. Like
now.

Instead, he leaned closer, the warm brush of his body making her jump. “Do you need help?” he asked.

“Why would I need help?”

“For one, I think your brother’s pissing on the mailbox.”

Liz sucked in a mortified breath and clenched her eyes shut.  “He’s not,” she gasped.

“Nope. Sorry. My mistake. It’s the bird bath.”

She turned from the driveway as tears of humiliation burned the back of her eyes.  “
Please go,”
she said.

“I would, but I’ve been meaning to talk with your brother for a couple weeks now. Seems as good a time as any to catch up.

“And besides, his car is blocking mine.”

H
IGH AS A KITE.

Carter watched Liz’s brother more or less re-zip his fly. Who knew what John had ingested, smoked, or shot himself up with this time? Better to stick around a bit to make sure Liz didn’t need the help she’d already declined.

Carter pasted a benign grin on his face and waved. “Hey, John! Long time no see!”

John spun around slowly, a bewildered expression crossing his face as he squinted toward the front stoop.

“It’s Carter. Carter McIntyre.”

John stumbled up the path and stopped. He frowned at them. “Carter? Beth? Whaddr you doin’ here?”

Liz gaped at her brother, her nose wrinkling as he approached, then seemed to recover her composure. “I’m on vacation. Helping mom and dad clean up the house. What are
you
doing here?”

“Need to crash,” John mumbled, his face turning slightly green in the pale porch light. “Feeling a little... off.”

Liz’s eyes shot to Carter. “He can’t drive in this condition,” she murmured in alarm.

“He got here,” Carter muttered back. “But you’re right. Do you want me to take him home?”

John swore and they looked toward him. “Can’t go home,” he mumbled. “No more. No more…”

Liz let out a short breath. “He’ll have to stay I guess.”

Carter helped John negotiate the threshold, grateful he wouldn’t be risking his truck’s upholstery. “Where do you want him?”

“The couch? I don’t think stairs are a good idea. I’ll get some old sheets to put on it, though. Just in case.”

Carter nodded and helped John sit so he could take off his shoes. John was so far gone, he only mumbled incoherently from time to time. It was a miracle the guy had made it there in the condition he was in.

Liz returned with an armload of bedding and began to spread sheets over the sofa. She wrinkled her nose again as Carter helped John collapse onto the makeshift bed. “He positively reeks. Do you think we should take him to the hospital?”

“No. I think he’ll sleep it off.”

She nodded and allowed Carter to lead her away. She looked pale, worried. And deeply embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry.” The apologies started pouring out of her as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. “You shouldn’t have to see this. Or deal with this—”

“Neither should you,” he interrupted.

She nodded then, an abrupt movement, her lips a taut line.

“You know this doesn’t reflect on you, Liz. You don’t have to explain it away.”

“I know.” She said the words, but he could see she felt she were somehow responsible for her brother’s actions. Her eyes met his. Grateful. Weary. “Thanks for helping.”

“No problem.” He shuffled from foot to foot, unwilling to leave. Unwilling to leave her looking so... lost. “Will you be all right? I can stay if you want.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He doubted she’d sleep a wink, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. “Does eight o’clock work for you? I usually start earlier, but considering—”

“Eight o’clock is fine.”

He walked to the slider, not wanting to remind either of them of the unpleasant reality lying on the living room couch and wished he could recapture the easy camaraderie they’d shared earlier. “Thanks again for dinner.”

She nodded and her fingers brushed his arm. It warmed him in ways he couldn’t explain. “Carter?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m glad you came. I had a good time tonight. Before—”

“Me, too.” He flashed her a smile and inclined his head fractionally. He wanted to kiss her. To be honest, he wanted to do much more than kiss her. And, for a moment, he almost gave in to the impulse to take that half step forward and lose himself in her full, soft mouth. Instinct told him she wouldn’t push him away.

Common sense told him they’d both regret the timing.

Swallowing his disappointment, Carter reached up to brush a strand of hair from her temple. His thumb lingered on her cheek, drawing an idle circle. He wouldn’t draw her to him, he told himself. He wouldn’t take advantage.