Game for Trouble (Game for It 2)

The restaurant was a cute, charming hole in the wall—if you could call anything in downtown Carmel a hole in the wall—with brick interior walls and a fireplace blazing with the coziest fire she’d ever seen. There was even a dog curled up in front, an old black lab with a gray muzzle, sitting on his dark green dog bed without a care in the world.

Willow loved it. Not that she’d admit it to Nick, but the restaurant was so cozy, so warm and inviting. The tables were full, there was a large room in the back filled with pool tables and a beautiful, gleaming wood bar that quite a few people sat at, tipping back beer and munching on pizza they sold by the slice.

Considering she’d grown up in the area, she couldn’t believe she’d never heard of the place before.

Nick ordered an extra-large pizza fully loaded—sans onions, it should be noted—and a pitcher of beer just for her, despite her protests. He said it would relax her. She rarely drank beer, but whatever Nick ordered went down smooth from the first sip and next thing she knew, she’d tipped back two glasses and consumed three pieces of pizza.

And was seriously considering a fourth.

“Damn girl, you know how to put it back,” Nick said with a laugh as he polished off his fourth piece.

Only Nick would point out she was a total pig. And only with him did she slip enough to eat like one. Was that because she’d known him for years? Back then, she’d been without a care in the world, eating whatever the hell she wanted and never gaining an ounce.

But that was a long time ago. Now she exercised, ate right, and rarely indulged.

“I guess I was starving. I’ve been working a lot lately, moving everything in to the new spot.” She wiped the corner of her mouth and reluctantly tossed her dirty napkin on her empty plate.

Damn it. She’d really been eyeing that thin slice still sitting on the pan.

Leaning over her, Nick grabbed the crumpled napkin and set it on the table beside her plate before he grabbed the very piece she’d been staring at and set it on her plate. “Don’t deprive yourself,” he murmured close to her ear. “You want it, you go for it.”

He could be talking about a multitude of things, none of which she should be remotely considering. She slowly turned her head to meet his gaze, startled that his face was so close to hers. She could see the golden flecks in his eyes, the light stubble on his jaw, the tiny scar that ran at the corner of his lush mouth.

His mouth. She both despised and desired that mouth of his. The words he said irritated and aroused her—which, of course, was more than part of the reason she was irritated. She shouldn’t let him get to her. He was blackmailing her, for the love of God, most likely doing this—forcing her to go on a date with him, multiple dates with him—just to drive her crazy.

Worse? A tiny, secret part of her wished there was something real between them. Something old yet fresh. She liked that they had a history, however painful it was for her to remember. Though there were good times between them. Plenty of good times…

Blinking, she realized she was still fixated on his mouth. He certainly knew how to use those lips so every thought that floated through her head evaporated upon impact. His mouth should be a designated lethal weapon.

She so needed to stop thinking about his mouth, their past…everything. It was pointless. This date was pointless.

“I’ll get fat,” she murmured.

“You are the farthest thing from fat.” His gaze dropped to her breasts, her waist, and her backside. “Besides, I like curves on my woman.”

“I am not your woman,” she retorted, pulling away from him. Just like that, his mouth broke the heady spell she’d been so close to falling completely under.

“Don’t squash my dreams, Will.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture sweet, the look in his eyes hot. “Have you gotten prettier over the years or what? I didn’t think that was possible.”

She scowled. Caught sight of the sincerity in his gaze, and, Lord help her, her mouth, her entire attitude, softened. “Stop trying to sweet talk me,” she protested.

“It’s the God’s honest truth. I remember when I first saw you, following your daddy while he strode the edge of the field.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmured, sort of wishing he would go on.

“He wore a suit that probably cost more than my own daddy made in three months’ salary. He scared the hell out of me.” Nick mock shuddered.

Willow laughed. Nick described her father perfectly. He was a lawyer to the rich and famous—a few celebrities, though most of his clients were professional athletes.

“And then I saw you trailing after him. Pretty as a picture, wearing those little shorts that showed off your long legs and all that dark hair waving in the wind and calling my name. You locked eyes with me and I was a goner.” He smiled.

She had no reply. That was exactly how she felt the first time she saw Nick. A goner. He’d touched her, he’d kissed her, and she’d fallen into bed with him, just like that. Being near him shredded her willpower to bits.

“Give me a break,” she said, though her voice wavered. Was he some sort of snake charmer? Working his magic on her with words and memories and heated glances?

He was hypnotizing her. She could try and blame it on the beer but she knew the truth.

Really, she blamed it on the man.