She hazarded a glance around the room, spotting Michael and Nicole standing in front of the windows at the far end of the room. Dominic was right. Michael was watching them, not so subtly, as he took large sips from his drink. Nicole didn’t look like she’d seen them, too engrossed in whatever she was talking about.
Kate looked back to Dominic, who had piled his plate with cocktail wieners, coconut shrimp, and mini chicken salad sandwiches. “I think we’ve accomplished what we came here for tonight,” she said. “But instead of HBO, I have another activity in mind.”
The plate Dominic was holding slipped sideways, and he would have lost its entire contents had she not reached out to save it. She laughed, feeling a little powerful at the reaction she’d gained. “I was talking about Scrabble. I saw it in the entertainment center back at the room.”
“But you were going out on such a high note this evening. Why would you want to go back and play a game that I’m sure I’ll whip your ass at?”
She smiled. “Is that some sort of challenge?”
“Just a promise, babe,” he said and gave her that lazy sideways smile.
Usually hearing someone use such ridiculous endearments would send her eyes rolling. Only coming from Dominic, she found the words had a sweeter meaning.
“Let’s just put your money where your mouth is.”
His brows crooked. “Oh? Are you saying you want a wager?”
“Absolutely.” Little did Dominic know she had never been defeated in a game of Scrabble. Michael had given up playing her, calling her too competitive.
“Good. Because I know just what I’m going to want when I win.”
Poor deluded guy. This was going to almost be too easy. She almo
st felt bad for him.
…
Dominic leaned back against the couch, his legs sprawled in front of him on the floor. He waited as Kate continued to study the board and then looked back at her tiles.
“I’m setting the timer. You’ve gone way past three minutes,” Dominic warned.
“Fine,” she said, heaving a deep sigh. “I’ll go.”
Only he could see the corners of her mouth twitch as she tried to suppress a smile while placing the letters across the board. “Q-u-i-c-k. With the triple letter, should give me…forty points.”
He focused his attention on recording the score, aware of her barely suppressed glee. He glanced at his own letters, only taking a minute to see what he needed before placing two letters down. “Q-u-i-c-k-e-n. And with the triple word score,” he emphasized, “gives me…sixty-six points.”
Kate stared in shock at the board, her mouth slightly open. She didn’t say anything for another long moment. Then, as if she had envisioned this from the beginning, she nodded. “Lucky move.”
“Of course. And that leaves our scores at…217 and 163. I believe I’m in the lead. Your turn.”
She took another sip of her second mug of hot chocolate laced generously with Irish cream liqueur and leaned back, her feet tucked underneath her. She looked up and stared into the fire he’d lit earlier, her mind clearly running in overdrive as she tried to think of a way to best him. He should have warned her before that his family were championship Scrabble players, having spent most every weekend sharpening their skill as he grew up. Daisy was the best by far, but he’d given her a run for her money a time or two.
Outside, the snow continued to fall big, heavy flakes that accumulated on the banister outside on their balcony. By morning he’d bet they’d have over a foot of snow, easy.
Kate jumped to her feet. “Are there any more of those cocktail wieners left?”
“You’re stalling,” Dominic said. “And no. You finished them all. I think there were a few pieces of shrimp left, though.”
She headed to the fridge and peered in. It was hard for him to ignore her luscious backside when she leaned down like that. “Nope. Looks like that’s gone, too. Only a sandwich is left.” She shut the door, her nose curled up in distaste. “Why’d they have to put walnuts in a perfectly good chicken salad?”
When she returned, she plopped down on the floor, on her stomach this time. Damn.
From this angle, it was impossible not to look at the tantalizing gap in her sweater that was displayed. Her face propped on her hands, she was studying her letters again and couldn’t know where his lecherous gaze was wandering.
He swore she was wearing a deep grayish-blue bra. Almost the exact shade of her eyes. Why the hell would she go out of her way to match her undergarments to her eyes if she didn’t want people to appreciate the comparison, right?
“You know, I’m kind of tired. Why don’t we just call it a draw.”