Card Sharks by Liz Maverick Page B

lost the hand which meant she’d probably decided to start with some kind of bluff to make the boys initially believe she didn’t know what she was doing, and now Peter was leaning over to encourage her to take off her underwear and . . . Oh, for God’s sake!
    â€œWould you like to switch seats?” Bijoux blurted out.
    â€œOh. No, I’m fine,” he said, leaning back in.
    Bijoux rolled her eyes as Peter wrote something down in his notebook and then turned his attention back to Marianne, who’d intelligently decided simply to remove her other shoe.
    After two solid hours of game play, Marianne’s strategies had already started to pay off. Bijoux looked over at Donny, now bare from the waist up. He didn’t look like he was enjoying himself that much anymore, perhaps not quite so giddy with possibility the way he was before the men all started losing their clothes.
    Peter’s intent focus on Marianne the entire time was probably another reason for the scowl. He seemed to be the one guy in the room who was on Marianne’s—and, by extension, Bijoux’s—side. His attention, his fascination with her abilities and her other assets, say, seemed to spur her on. She was playing to him. She was trying to impress him.
    â€œYour bet, Bij,” Donny said kindly, though his voice had taken on a strained quality.
    Bijoux looked at her cards for what seemed like the umpteenth time. She looked down at her status. She was still mostly clothed, though a bit disheveled from having to remove her shoes, most of her jewelry, and her bra through her sleeve.
    Marianne was true to her word: She’d played well enough to keep herself mostly clothed and Bijoux clothed enough.
    Bijoux folded, secure in the knowledge that her hand wasn’t good enough to win but not bad enough to lose her underwear over.
    The clock struck two o’clock in the morning, and not a sound was made as Marianne laid down her cards and fanned a jack-high straight out on the table.
    Bijoux looked up at her friend and grinned. Marianne grinned back and surveyed the other hands that had been more slowly revealed. Marianne looked at the poor unfortunate at the opposite end of the table and gave him a sympathetic smile. “That’s you, hot stuff.”
    Hot Stuff moistened his lips and stood up, completely undressed except for his boxers. He frowned at the rest of the men sitting around the table, all of them stark naked, then looked back at Marianne—still completely clothed. “This is so not my idea of a great night of strip poker.” With that he leaned over, pantsed himself, twirled his boxers around his index finger as Bijoux and Marianne hooted and hollered, and then slowly rotated in a full monty.
    â€œWell, that’s the game,” Donny said, pushing the cards into a pile on the table.
    Marianne stood up and walked over to where he was still sitting, his clothes in a pile on the floor by his feet. She pickedup his clothes before he could react and started backing up with them.
    â€œMare? Maaaare? Give me my clothes.”
    â€œCome and get them!” she said in a singsongy voice, still backing away and waving a sock in the air as bait.
    Donny stood up at the table, using a handful of cards to try to cover his privates. “Marianne, I’m serious.”
    Marianne wiggled the sock as the others took up some more hooting and hollering. “I think you owe me and Bijoux an apology.”
    â€œI apologize,” he said immediately.
    â€œMean it.”
    â€œYou want me to apologize for luring you and Bijoux over in hopes of getting you naked? And mean it? That’s a tall order. I mean, if you really think about it, it’s your fault as much as mine.”
    Marianne narrowed her eyes.
    â€œWhat? Have I ever lured you over and not tried to get you naked? You should have known better,” he said, grinning madly.
    Bijoux glanced at Peter, who was leaning