Taxes. Could she be more boring? Despite having warned him that she was not a fun date, she had a goal here and she needed to get on it by steering the conversation toward his ethics. “But you cheat at cards. All the time.”
His slow smile did something X-rated to her insides. “That’s only when we’re playing strip poker, darling. And believe me, it’s worth it.”
The memory of messing around in college, using things like card games as foreplay, spiked through her. They’d always ended up naked and breathless. The anticipation had been drawn out over the length of a game she could hardly pay attention to because Gage had been revealing himself oh-so-slowly while she sat there in a similar state of vulnerability.
Kind of like now.
And she couldn’t unthink it. Back then, when they’d finally come together, she’d exploded under his careful and thorough lovemaking. Because he had always thoroughly engaged her—mind, body and soul.
And that hadn’t changed. The moment she’d recognized Gage in the parking lot, it felt as though she’d woken up from a coma. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed being so comprehensively engaged. How much she missed a man paying attention to her.
No. Not any man. This one.
Their gazes met over the table, burning up the atmosphere. Obviously he was recalling their hot and heavy times, as well, and his expression unleashed a shiver she couldn’t control. Something unknitted inside, falling apart as if all the glue holding her together melted at Gage-point-five degrees.
They’d once been so close because they had so much in common. They’d shared the same goals, and she’d always been able to count on him to have the answers she sought. She’d counted on him to encourage her, to push her. Because he understood her.
It was so much more powerful now that they were equals. Gage Branson, CEO, was so much more attractive than he’d been as her mentor.
Fork suspended in midair, he tilted his head. “Weren’t we playing a game?”
Cass blinked. The game. The suspicions. Her precarious position within Fyra. She bit back an unladylike swear word and took a fortifying sip of wine.
How had she fallen into Gage so easily that she’d forgotten what this dinner was supposed to be about? He’d cursed her with his magic voice and wicked personality, lulling her into believing they were former lovers reconnecting over a drink.
He wasn’t on her side, not like he used to be. Maybe he never had been. As he was making love to her, he’d probably already be plotting his escape. Just like he’d almost assuredly plotted to steal her formula.
Gage Branson, CEO, wasn’t any more of a good bet with her heart than he had been as a graduate student.
She steeled her spine against the good memories and dredged up the bad ones. She’d spent years working sixteen-hour days so she could fall into bed exhausted and actually sleep. Otherwise, she lay there in misery, aching over having lost the love of her life.
And here he was again, ripe for a comeuppance and deserving of whatever she threw at him. She narrowed her gaze and shoved back the past. “We got off track. Sorry. Next question. Have you ever stolen anything?”
“I’m supposed to say whether I want truth or dare first.” Warily, he eyed her. “What’s with all these moral questions anyway? Admittedly, it’s been a long time since I played truth or dare, but I seem to recall we always asked things like who was your first crush or have you ever gone skinny-dipping?”
“Those are great questions for eleven-year-olds. This is the adult version,” she informed him pertly and was instantly sorry as something wicked flashed through his expression.
“Why didn’t you say so?” His slow smile had all sorts of danger signs attached to it. “I’d like to take the dare, then.”
She cursed. Should have anticipated that he’d take the dare, dummy. “I dare you to answer the question.”
“Oh, no, honey,” he said with a laugh. “It doesn’t work like that. You promised me the adult version and I’m fully prepared to pay up for not answering. Lay it on me.”
Clearly he expected the dare to come packaged in a thinly veiled sexual wrapper. So she indulged him with a sensuous smile. “I dare you to take your shirt off.”
“Here?” He glanced around the crowded, high-class restaurant with a dubious line between his brows. “It doesn’t seem fair to show up all these other guys. Can’t you think of something else?”
Typical male machismo. Of course if his body still looked like it used to—and chances were high that it did—his point was valid.