I cursed wedding magazines, champagne and dice games and hit the kitchen.

“Maybe we can talk about this later,” I suggested.

“When?”

I figured Eddie was pretty good in an interrogation room.

“Eddie…”

“I’l be there in ten.”

No.

No, no, no.

“I’m leaving in a few minutes,” I lied. I didn’t intend to leave, I had the bonus points al tied up in that game and I was cruising to a win (or, at least, one of the top three). I only had a ful house and a chance left and Tod said ful houses were easy to get.

“You’re not there when I get there, I’l find you and it won’t be good when I do.”

Dear Lord.

“Eddie…”

But he’d disconnected.

Eddie showed up and, luckily, he was forced into the celebration by the very fact that it was a celebration. He gave Indy a hug and Lee a man-hug (one-armed, hearty slap on the back that would probably leave a bruise, al the while shaking hands).

Then his eyes locked on me.

They were glittery.

Not good.

Not good.

I was back to being wedged between Vance and Hank.

Hank slid his seat away from me, Lee found a chair and Eddie flipped it into a super-wedge in the space Hank left.

He sat beside me, close beside me, his hand curled around my neck and he pul ed me to him. His lips hit my cheek and moved to my ear.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

My stomach clutched and I was pretty sure I was having heart palpitations.

“Yahtzee!” Stevie shouted and I jumped.

Eddie let me go and sat in the next game drinking from my bottle of wine.

I kind of wanted to ask for another one, I was thinking drunk was definitely the way to go.

Once the game was over, Daisy got up and declared,

“Marcus’l be wonderin’ where I am.”

She said her good-byes with hugs and air kisses and left.

Tod and Stevie fol owed her and Bobby and Matt went home to their girlfriends (this was a surprise, I didn’t know they had girlfriends).

Vance took a cal that changed the expression on his face, made him send a meaningful glance to Lee and he left.

“Let’s play strip poker,” Al y suggested when the door closed behind Vance.

“That’d be a good idea, Jet’s a shit poker player,” Hank said.

Dear Lord, save me.

“But I’m not playin’ strip poker with my sister,” Hank finished.

Thank you God for one smal favor.

“Time to go home,” Eddie said, pushing his chair back to get up.

I looked at him. He may have been playing at being in the celebratory mood but one look at him told me he simply was not.

I looked at the table.

“Maybe we could play just poker, poker,” I tried.

His hand grabbed mine and he pul ed me up.

“Indy and Lee probably want to be alone,” Eddie said.

He was probably right. The look on Lee’s face said he was definitely right.

Everyone disbursed, more hugs and kisses and Eddie and I went out the front.

“My car is at Fortnum’s,” I told him.

“I’l take you to get it tomorrow morning,” Eddie replied, walking me to the truck. He bleeped its locks and I pul ed hard on my hand in his. It didn’t work.

He stopped at the passenger side door.

“I’m going home,” I said.

“Already told you, I prefer my bed,” he returned.

“Okay, you sleep in your bed and I’l sleep in my bed.” Wrong answer.

He pushed me against the truck with a hand at my bel y.

“You want to have this talk out here in the street or do you want to do it at my place?”

I didn’t want to have the talk at al . But I was wil ing to have the talk in a delayed-type fashion.

I went for it.

“I was thinking, maybe tomorrow.”

“You were thinkin’ wrong.”

Sweet Jesus.

“Eddie…”

He opened the truck door.

“Get in the truck, Jet.”

I pul ed out the attitude. Certainly, the scaredy-cat gambit wasn’t getting me anywhere.

I gave him a glare. “You’re incredibly pushy!” I snapped.

“Get in the truck,” he repeated.

I turned to walk away.

“I’m going to my car,” I announced.

I was pul ed back at the middle, his finger snagging the belt loop of my jeans.

He pushed me back against the side of the truck and got close.

“Remember what I said about no longer bein’ tolerant of your shit?”

He sounded pretty angry, so angry that words escaped me, so I nodded.

“I meant this shit too, now get in the truck.”

“I real y don’t like you,” I told him, stil trying to go with the attitude.

Again, it was the wrong choice.

His body got stil for a beat and then he got even closer.

“Now,” he said quietly, “you just threw down. So, I’m gonna have to prove you wrong. After I do that, we’re gonna talk.”

Eek!

What could I say?

I’d walked right into that one.

Stil , I gave him a glare before I got in the truck.

Just because.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Talk

I came up with a strategy on the silent ride to Eddie’s.

He parked in the garage and we went into the kitchen. I put my purse down on the counter and he walked into the living room. I took a deep breath and fol owed him.

He turned to me, planted his hands on his h*ps and stared at me.

“You wanna explain why I came home to find you’d moved out?”

The good news was, he’d given up on the idea of proving me wrong about not liking him.

The bad news was, we weren’t going to sit down and relax in front of a bal game before our talk.

Oh well , it was now or never.

I walked up to him and slid my arms around his middle. I pressed my body to his. I tucked my face into his neck and, with my lips pressed against the side of his throat I said,

“Not real y.”

“Chiquita…”

I went up on tiptoe, my lips moved and I kissed him behind his ear.

I’d never had to seduce Eddie. Eddie was kind of a take-charge type of guy when it came to sex (wel real y, Eddie was kind of a take-charge type of guy al the time), as in, he wanted it, he took it.