The Family Jewels by Christine Bell Page A

of the juice dripped down her chin and it took every ounce of discipline he had not to dip in and lick it off. How could he want a woman as confounding as this one, so desperately? He literally couldn't take his eyes off her.
    She studied him for a long moment before swiping at her chin and leaning toward him. "Okay. I’ll give you the stuff. But I don’t just want the cash.” She dipped her head close to his ear and whispered, “I want in."
    She was stubborn and ballsy as hell, he’d give her that. "Look, Sadie, you don’t have any idea what you’re even asking and-"
    "Whatever this long con is, it's obviously way more lucrative than the twenty thousand dollars worth of jewelry I managed to lift from him before you interrupted me. And I want a piece of it." She sat back in her seat and lifted her chin defiantly. “It’s a win-win. We both get what we want and walk away happy.”
    “This isn’t about finances for me. What I stand to gain is nothing that can be divvied between us.” More importantly, though, he didn’t need her underfoot.
    Her face dropped but she rebounded quickly, the quiet desperation in her eyes moving him far more than it should have. "Okay, so bring me with you to the poker game next weekend, then."
    "He’s already met you. Twice, I might add. Do you honestly think he's stupid enough to not recognize you as a third person?" Even as he said it, he wondered about the answer himself. She was good, and Alistair was dumb enough to let a nice pair of breasts sway him into believing just about anything.
    "Actually, I do," she answered, reiterating his own thoughts on the topic, "but we don't need to take it there. I can go as the Countess. You can tell him you ran into me and invited me along, can't you?"
    "Do you have twenty-five thousand dollars to buy in with?"
    "No. But once you pay me that amount for the jewelry I will."
    "Do you know how to play poker?"
    "Of course," she snorted, rolling her eyes with disgust. "What do they play, Seven-card Stud? Omaha? Hold 'Em?"
    "Hold 'Em. But I'm not sure how they’ll feel about women at the table."
    She thought about that long and hard before giving him a curt nod.
    "Fine. I'm going to gamble on me," she said, slapping her hand on the bar. "All you have to do is bring me. If I can’t get him to let me play, I keep the twenty-five grand, no harm no foul."
    "And if he says yes?"
    A radiant smile spread over her luscious lips sending a pulse of heat to his groin. What would those lips feel like under his?
    "Then you let me work my magic at the poker table.” She held up her glass and smiled. “What do you say, Jake? Shall we drink on it?"

7
    M aybe she should've said no on that last drink. Or the one before that. Jake had stopped at two, but she was wrung out and they were so cold and delicious, with all those cherries…
    Laughter bubbled from between her lips, broken by a loud hiccup. "Scuse me," she murmured, letting her head loll back on the plush, leather headrest.
    She sat up with a grumble and yanked the itchy wig off before letting her head fall back again, breathing in deeply.
    "Mmm. This is a nice car. Someday I'm going to have a car like this."
    Jake’s response sounded more like a chuckle than anything else, and she opened one eye to get a look at his face. Sure enough, he was smiling that crooked smile of his, dimple cranked up to eleven.
    "Oh, for fuck's sake, put that thing away already, would you?"
    "I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” he murmured, shooting a bemused glance in her direction.
    “The dimple,” she grumbled. “It’s ridiculous.”
    “And where would you suggest I put it, lass?"
    She mimicked him in her best Irish accent, "‘And where would you suggest I put it, lass.’ Like, I must be a total anomaly. I bet when you bust out the accent and the dimple at the same time, most women's vaginas just explode like cherry bombs on the Fourth of July, don't they?"
    He barked out a full-on laugh. "I'm not