“Shit,” Travis muttered. “Damn woman’s going to beat us.”
“I think,” Kacey pointed to Jake, “she already has.”
Jake was sitting across from Char, making such inappropriately lustful gazes that Kacey wasn’t sure if she should just take pity on Travis and cover his eyes for him.
But when she turned to say something to Travis, a wicked smile had formed at his lips.
“Uh oh,” Kacey said. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we’re going to get even.”
“Even?”
“He wants her so bad.” Travis chuckled. “And he thinks he’s going to get her, tonight, but—”
“What?”
“What type of brother would I be if I didn’t protect my brother’s heart? What type of person would I be if I didn’t protect poor Char’s virtue?” He shook his head and raised his hand to his chest. “I couldn’t live with myself…”
“Jake’s going to murder me.”
“Misery loves company.” Travis took a long gulp of water. “Yes it does.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Dessert was served. Char chose a chocolate soufflé with whipped cream. The minute it was set in front of her, she saw Jake’s hungry gaze.
With a wicked smile she dipped her finger into the whipped cream and slowly licked it clean.
His mouth dropped open, just slightly.
She licked her lips and dipped her finger again.
Jake leaned forward, his eyes almost closing as his half-lidded gaze went from teasing to lustful.
Char wondered when was the last time the player had been played, or that he’d had to actually wait for something.
Carefully, she slipped out o
f her wedge heels and relaxed a little further down in her seat. Trying to act nonchalant, she took another bite of her dessert and watched Jake watch her. She knew the exact moment her foot came into contact with his leg. With a jerk, he grabbed the edge of the table and cursed.
“Everything all right, Jake?” Petunia asked, examining him through her glasses.
“Perfect,” he said in a strained voice. “A bit hot.” His hooded eyes blinked a few times before he reached for his water glass and took a long sip.
“It is quite humid out.” Petunia fanned herself. “But you look positively flushed. Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something?”
“I wish,” Jake said.
“Pardon?” Her brows furrowed.
“Pretty dish.” He pointed to the butter dish in the middle of the table.
Char bit her lip to keep from laughing; she took another slow bite of soufflé and licked her fork. Jake groaned across the table.
Her foot came into contact with his skin.
“Mother of—”