Matched. Kelli Ireland

gauged her timing, then slowly looked up. Met his blazing gaze, licked her lips and lowered her voice even further. “Together. No strings. No regrets.”

      His gaze locked on the bare skin of her thigh and lingered longer than could be deemed polite. She tapped the table and his attention snapped back to her.

      “Deal.”

      A sharp thrill coursed through her and she rose from her seat. Isaac reclined and hooked an arm over the chair back, looking up at her. “I don’t suppose you have a deck of cards handy, do you?”

      “What, you don’t keep a set on hand for situations just like this?”

      “My spare is in my other suit jacket.”

      “Of course.” She swept low and retrieved her clutch and then, with all the casualness she could muster, she inclined her head toward the front door. “Shall we?”

      “Shall we what?”

      Her stomach somersaulted, rolling over and over before coming to a shaky halt. Thank God it was right side up.

      This was the moment when she had to decide. Be bold and brazen, or reserved and, likely, peppered with regret come dawn.

      “Bold,” she said so softly that Isaac’s attention focused on her mouth and he seemed to be trying to read her lips.

      “I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t hear you.”

      Rachel closed her eyes, searched and found her emotional center and whispered a small promise to never again forget who she was, no matter what happened in the next thirty seconds.

      She opened her eyes, held out her hand and said, “What do you say we get out of here and find a deck of cards?”