Patrick's Destiny by Sherryl Woods Page B

that I drove out to the fast-mart on the highway and bought out their stock. I’d hate to bring Molly’s wrath down on our heads.”
    “You do know I can’t possibly eat all this, don’t you? Or are you hoping I’ll take a stab at it and wind up in some sort of diabetic coma?”
    “Why would I want to do that?”
    “So you can beat me at cards.”
    “I don’t need you unconscious to win,” Patrick chided. “Those candy bars are just a token of my affection. Say thank you.”
    She met his gaze, saw the teasing glint in his eyesand was captivated all over again. “Thank you,” she said softly.
    “Anytime.”
    The air in the tiny galley sizzled. At least it did right up until the second she caught on that charming her was his real means of attacking her concentration. If she was feeling all mushy and tender toward him, she might be distracted from playing cutthroat poker.
    “It’s not going to work, you know,” she told him mildly, as she deliberately turned her back and ladled their soup into bowls.
    “What’s not going to work?”
    “I’m not going to become so overwhelmed by my hormones that I can’t concentrate on the cards,” she said, setting the soup down in front of him.
    His lips twitched slightly. “You think not?”
    “I know not,” she said emphatically.
    “You’re turning it into a challenge,” he warned. “Men love challenges.”
    Uh-oh, she thought, recognizing the truth in that statement. Men were disgustingly predictable when it came to challenges, especially challenges uttered by a woman. She tried to regroup. “It wasn’t a challenge, just a warning.”
    “Nice try, but I know a challenge when I hear one.” He grinned as he cupped the back of her neck and held her mere inches away from his face. “And when I decide to take you up on it, you won’t even see it coming.”
    Her stomach flipped over, even after he’d released her. She glanced a little frantically at her watch. “It’s getting late.”
    “Oh, no, you don’t, Miss Newberry.” He moved aside their untouched bowls of soup and slapped a deckof cards on the table. His gaze caught hers and held. “Ready?”
    A part of Alice that had been too long dormant snapped to life. “Ready,” she said, instantly revived, despite the lack of nourishment.
    She leaned across the table and looked directly into his eyes. “Do your best, Devaney,” she said defiantly. “It won’t be good enough.”
    Instead of reaching for the cards, he skimmed his knuckles gently along her jaw. A half smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “We’ll see.”
    Alice shuddered and fought the desire to lean into his touch. For the first time since she was ten years old and held her first poker hand, she had the distinct feeling that she was in way over her head in a card game.
    She instinctively reached for her soup, ate several nourishing spoonfuls, then faced him with renewed determination as she looked over the cards she’d been dealt. It was the most pitiful assortment of five cards she’d ever seen, but she was used to overcoming the odds. She looked Patrick squarely in the eyes, chose two cards, when she should have dumped four, and laid them on the table.
    “Two,” she told him, her tone deliberately gloating.
    His gaze narrowed. “Two, huh?” He dealt those and took three for himself.
    Alice saw the faint twitch of his lips and knew that he’d gotten something, while her own hand was no better than it had been at the outset. Not even a pair, much less a high card to back it up. Still she tossed a few chips on the table to force Patrick to win the hand honestly.
    He matched her bet. “Call.”
    Alice spread her woeful cards on the table, expectingto get a hearty laugh for her attempt at a bluff. As it turned out, Patrick had even less, a nine high card to her ten. She grinned and raked in the chips, noting that he didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned.
    “Nice bluff,” he complimented her.
    “You, too. You had me