The Devil Served Desire by Shirley Jump Page A

Dante National Airport?"
    "It's not baggage. It's reality." She leaned forward, into his space, connecting her gaze with his, telling him in no uncertain words she was looking for truth. "Do you want to get married right now?"
    "Are you asking me? Or just talking hypothetically?"
    "I don't have a white gown in my closet. Nor do I have any kind of urge to hitch myself to someone who's going to tell me when to be home and how much to spend at the Stop & Shop. So, no, I'm not asking. It's entirely hypothetical."
    His gaze traveled up and down her frame. A flush ran through her body that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "You'd look good in white."
    "That's not what we're talking about."
    "Why not? That could be my new favorite subject. Maybe even make it a category on Jeopardy . Ways to Describe Maria Dressed and Naked."
    "I bet you'd knock yourself out on the video clues."
    Once again, his gaze slid over every inch of her like a heated visual caress. Damn. It had suddenly become August in her apartment. "I might need CPR from Alex Trebek," he said.
    "Now that would be something I'd watch."
    "Gee, glad to know my getting mouth-to-mouth from a game show host would interest you." He leaned toward her. "A guy's gotta take some pretty desperate measures to get your attention, I take it?"
    "No. Not at all. He just has to be the opposite of Mamma's Dream Date."
    "Well, for your information, I don't want to get married this minute."
    "Well, good."
    "But I do someday," he said, moving closer, his words soft, as if he were sharing a secret. "I want a house and a bunch of kids and a wife who smiles when I walk through the door."
    "One of those traditional lives, huh?"
    "What's wrong with that?"
    She looked away. "Everything."
    A woman lost her identity, her self in that kind of life. She'd seen it in generation after generation of Pagliano women. That particular buck stopped here. With her.
    "You seem scared of marriage, which surprises me," he said.
    "Surprises you?"
    "You stood up to George Whitman and his lawyer. Not many men would do that, never mind women. And yet, the mere mention of a little gold ring has you running for the Berkshires."
    She took a sip from her glass. "I'm not scared of anything."
    His gaze sought hers, probing. "Now who's bullshitting who?"
    She drank again, giving him a noncommittal shrug.
    Dante smiled and drank from his own glass, then turned a slow circle around her apartment. She could see he knew he was right but wasn't going to rub it in.
    "Hey, what's that?" He crossed past her and into the living room.
    She pivoted, following his line of sight. "A chess set. Gathering dust."
    "Do you play?"
    "I play all kinds of games."
    He turned, smiled at her. Something went liquid in her gut. "I bet you do."
    She grabbed up the wine and took a gulp.
    "So you do play chess?" he asked again.
    "I used to."
    "And why not anymore?"
    She laughed. "The men I date don't come over to play games involving my brains."
    Dante considered her for a long, heated second that seemed to last forever. "They don't know what they're missing."
    "They don't care is more like it." She gestured to her breasts. "Most men never see past these. I could have a bobblehead for all they know."
    "Well, I—"
    She put up a hand, cutting off the sentence before he could finish. "Oh, no. Don't even try it. When we met, your eyes couldn't have been more glued to my chest if you'd slapped them on there yourself with some Elmer's."
    "You're a voluptuous woman. You can't blame a man for looking."
    "Oh, please . I have two large pieces of my anatomy that serve very little purpose in life except to drive men crazy. That's not attractive. That's a generosity of skin. And men stop right here." She pressed on her chest.
    Dante's gaze stayed with hers. "Then you're dating the wrong kind of man."
    "Well, I guess that leaves only gay men in my dating pool."
    "No, I think you just need to pull from the deep end." He crossed to her, took her glass from her hand,