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Bethany walked over to the counter and fumbled around for a moment before looking back at him, completely lost. “You seem...very at home here. How do you find what you need?”
Slicing oranges into halves, he shook his head and squeezed each over a wide bowl. “Chef’s intuition, I suppose. I just think about where I’d like it to be and it’s usually there. This is a phenomenal kitchen. Check out the Viking range.”
Bethany smirked. “Ah, the world renowned intuition of Mr. Ryan Chase. It’s boggled my mind for months now.”
Ryan sensed an edge, not entirely playful, creeping into her voice. He looked up at her as she stood beside him. This wasn’t exactly the Beth of work, the one who patiently bore his existence but showed little more than disdain when business closed. She wasn’t the Beth of two nights ago either, enchanted by the serenity of their secluded environment, swept away by the moment. This woman balanced in the middle, and he wasn’t sure where she would fall.
He wiped his hands on the dishtowel over his shoulder then placed them on her hips. “Yeah, intuition. Instinct. Gut. I know you’ve got it, too, you just don’t like to use it. Numbers and formulas are more your thing.”
The side of her mouth curved up, and he couldn’t resist running his thumb over it.
Her eyelids dropped to a softened stare. “I just prefer methods that I can rely on.”
“I can rely on my gut. I’d trust it over formulas and equations any day. Data is only as good as the person that entered it, and even if it’s right, people change their minds. Sense hasn’t steered me wrong, yet.”
“Yet,” she said, snapping at this thumb, still dangerously close to her mouth. Her eyebrow raised silently, screaming dare.
“That sounds like the voice of doubt, Ms. Phillip. Do you challenge me?”
Her laugh bubbled out, resonating through the room. There was more freedom in it than he’d ever heard from her.
“Well, I am feeling pretty confident after the ass-kicking I delivered in Scrabble last night. What kind of challenge do you have in mind?”
“Mmm, I’ll have to let my instincts guide me here.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, please.”
“My gut is telling me that I can answer twenty multiple-choice questions about your personal life—which we both know you don’t share with me.”
“Twenty questions I pick? Someone’s pretty cocky.”
“Someone didn’t seem to mind last night.” He loved to get a rise out of her.
“So, what are we talking here? Dollars?” she asked with the smug look of a mark in the midst of a hustle. Perfect.
“Pfft, dollars. Come on now, Beth. We make enough dough that money just doesn’t make sense. What means something to you? I know. Control. That’s what you and I have been battling over since the day we met. Seems to me this would be the perfect opportunity to get some satisfaction on that count. Or are you scared?” He knew how to taunt.
“Control? Like slave for a day type thing?”
“Slave for a day...and of course, for the night as well. Let’s say, until seven tomorrow morning. Anything goes.” He wasn’t surprised to see Beth all but licking her lips. She’d been hungering for the edge on him since day one, and this was finally her chance to get it.
Poor girl was probably fantasizing about making him wear a skirt all day or some other wholesome nonsense. It would almost be worth it to throw the challenge just to see what she’d do. But that wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t give up, and today Beth was getting a lesson in gut.
“You are so going to be wearing my underwear around this house all day! That and a few...other things I can think of. Bring it on.” Her eyes danced, and she rocked back on her heels. She was easy, almost too easy.
“I’m serious. Slave for a day. Anything I say. You back out, you have to say ‘I’m a welcher’.”
“Fine, fine. So long as you know what you’ll be saying.”
“This is serious. We’re going to shake on it. I know how you are about the worth of your handshake.”
She stuck out her hand and shook, firm and solid. Ryan knew she was going to be pissed when she lost, so he thought he’d make the most of this amicable moment. Rather than release her hand, he pulled it up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle.
Bethany squirmed then narrowed her eyes at him. The game face. “Enough of dilly dallying. You ready to lose?”
“Okay, let’s have it. Don’t go easy on me, now. I like a challenge.”
She leaned back against the counter and rubbed her hands together. Ryan tensed a bit, wondering if he’d misjudged. He’d never met a hustler who could hustle him, but Beth had surprised him, showing a side of herself last night he hadn’t known existed. Would he learn another lesson this morning?
