Page 29 of Carnal Wagers

“Depends on the agent, and whether I like you.”

I scoffed. The nerve of this woman. “You have direct access to these products?”

“As the business owner and its main chemist, I’d say yes.”

I frowned, looking her over from head to toe once again.

“Don’t tell me I’ve shocked you silly.”

“Why do business with me?”

“Do you really need me to answer that? I thought it was self-explanatory.”

“Spell it out.”

She leaned in close, and the tips of her damp hair skimmed my wrist. “You get things done. The players on the field envy you. I haven’t heard more than the standard complaints, and the market likes you. The question is, do I?”

“You’re playing with me.”

She shrugged. “More like testing you.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to do in a man’s own territory.”

“But that’s the thing. I’m an innovator. My competition is limited. Guns, firearms, and explosives all have a rampant high supply and high demand on a market with too many shareholders. Whereas the wares I sell are finite and highly regulated. You know the adage: The higher the risk, the higher the reward. I’d wager you enjoy risk. I bet the greater it is, the more satisfied you are.”

I squinted at the patrons at the booths around us. Five booths and eight tables were taken, only seven of which were by clan members, another two at the bar. It was too high a crowd for this conversation. I rose.

“Come with me.”

The corners of her mouth twitched with amusement, but she made no move to obey. She held my gaze over the rim of her glass and finished every last drop of that Irish coffee.

My cock pulsed, imagining her swallowing it down just as eagerly. My jeans tightened around my groin, and I buttoned my coat. Jaysus, I hadn’t responded to a woman like this in so long I’d thought my sex drive was as dead as my existence.

“I’m not in a habit of repeating myself.”

“Too alpha male for that, I’m guessing.”

I crowded over her, my arms caging her against the seat. “I always get what I want.”

“Sorry, mari chéri.” She patted one of my hands. With one unexpected tug and twist of my arm, she took the advantage, got to her feet, and slipped past me. “Not today, you’re not. I’m not sure I like you yet.”

She brushed off invisible lint from my sweater, the cloth still moist in patches like her own outfit. When I caught her hand, she chuckled a husky little sound that zipped straight to my cock.

“I don’t like my time wasted.”

“Wasted how? This is a meet and greet. No matter what, I’ll never again sign anything on a first date.”

She tracked the walk of her fingers up my chest, but I still caught a flash of vulnerability in her gaze before she reeled it back in. That look called to me. It was eclectic and intriguing until her shoulders deflated, her smile turned forced, and she put distance between us.

I grunted. “Give me your name at least.”

She called over her shoulder, “Next time, Mr. O’Leary. Don’t worry. I shall be seeing you again.”

She winked at me, and I had this flummoxing urge to lift my hand and wave. In front of my men. Like a damn eejit. Ach, no. I shoved my hands forcefully into my pockets, my fingertips on fire with the need to do something.

I watched her leave, my sweater collar suddenly tight, the fabric prickly. It felt like I’d gone ten rounds in the ring. Fuck if I didn’t want more. That was the single most electrifying conversation of my life, doing absolutely nothing at all.

The space where she’d been lay empty, but her teasing grin, the spark of intelligence in her eyes, and that huffy tone underlining every single one of her words stayed long after the bell trilled and the door clacked shut. Something about her niggled the back of my mind, leaving me more unsettled than I’d been in months.