If You Believe

Rasss chair creaked loudly. He leaned back and lit up a pipe. The acrid-sweet odor of tobacco floated through the room. Threads of gray smoke drifted across Marians face, obscuring her for a heartbeat.

"Sit down, Mariah. I have an idea," Rass said, puffing on the pipe.

She moved stiffly to the table and sat down beside Mad Dog, careful not to make eye contact. Her chair was close to his, so close he could smell the soft fragrance of vanilla that clung to her clothing.

"We could play a game," Rass suggested. "Weve got that new Electoral College Game. " He grinned at Mad Dog. "It teaches the method of electing our president. "

Mad Dog tried to smile—he really did. "Uh-huh. Sounds great. "

"I dont know, Rass," Mariah said quietly, "Mr. Stone probably doesnt like board games. "

"I think bored is the key word," Mad Dog remarked blandly.

Mariah didnt look at him, but he felt, oddly, as if she were disappointed. She started to rise.

Instinctively he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Her skin felt cool and soft beneath his chapped fingers.

She gasped quietly and turned to him, slowly lowering back to her seat until their faces were a handspan apart. Her lips parted in surprise. A tiny breath escaped.

His gaze held hers in a strong, velvet grip. She didnt look away. Slowly her tongue peeked out, dragged nervously along her lips. Moisture glistened on the puffy pinkness of her mouth.

He almost groaned aloud.

"I didnt say I didnt want to play," he said quietly. "I just dont want to play that. "

"What did you have in mind?"

"How about something more . . . interesting. Like poker?"

Rass thumped his fist on the table. "Great idea. "

She pulled back her hand. He resisted for a heartbeat and no more, then grudgingly let go.

"All right," she said, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her skirt. "We shall try poker. "

Rass set his pipe down and leaned forward. Resting his elbows on the table, he steepled his fingers and peered at Mad Dog. "How about making it more . . .

interesting?"

Mad Dog grinned. Strip poker. He bit back the entirely inappropriate response just in time. "What did you have in mind?"

"Team poker," he said. "You and Mariah against Jake and me. "

He glanced at Mariah and grinned. He couldnt have planned it better himself.

"Whatll we play for?"

"How about a fish breakfast? Winners catch and cook," Rass said.

Mariah frowned at her father. "Winners?"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"I just thought—"

"No problem. " Mad Dog cut her off seamlessly.

Rass grinned triumphantly. "Perfect. " Then he patted Jake on the back. "Come on, partner, lets talk strategy. "