Page 12 of Power Play

His face breaks into a half smile, but even that slight tilt to his lips warms his rugged looks. “Monstrous.” He says the word with a shake of his head. “That’s a new one.”

From across the table, Caleb pipes up, “How tallareyou?”

“Six-four,” Gwen interjects. She throws a sickeningly sweet glance across the table at the man who has once again retreated into silence. “I know how much he weighs too.”

I cough awkwardly into a closed fist at the same time that Caleb mouths “weirdo” before slamming back his ice water like it’s straight Patron. If Gwen contents herself with making creepy comments all day, it’s no wonder that Duke Harrison is practically a mute in her presence.

Why bother opening your mouth when you have a talking parrot to do the job for you?

In an attempt to smooth over the awkwardness which has taken hold of the table, I murmur, “That was real nice of you. With the host, I mean.”

Duke passes a hand over his dark blond hair like the praise makes him uncomfortable. “It’s nothing, really. I meet a lot of fans. A few tickets here and there isn’t gonna hurt me.”

“Duke is great with charity.” This from Gwen, naturally.

I’m beginning to wonder if her mere existence is comprised of telling Duke Harrison what to do and alternatively acting as his pseudo-PR agent.

The server arrives with our drinks, takes our food order—I go for steak—and whisks away again, leaving the four of us to a miserable silence that I’m responsible for. The aura of fury radiating off Duke in waves has lessened, not that this does anything to ease the awkward vibe at the table. I swirl my white wine in its glass. Kick my foot out to Caleb. He kicks me back, and I withhold a taunt curse.

Surprisingly, it’s Duke who breaks the pitiful reign of silence. “So, Caleb, what do you do for work?”

On cue, Caleb’s shoulders inch back and he sits up straighter. “Oh, youknow, this and that. Nothing as important as being a hockey player.”

“He’s a real estate agent,” I tell Duke from the corner of my mouth, effectively killing Caleb’s parade of mystery. “He wrangles in clients, promises them their HGTV dreams, and then takes their money.”

Caleb’s brows knit together. “You make me sound like a marauding pirate.”

“Orlando Bloom or Johnny Depp?” I ask, and Duke once again surprises me by taking the question seriously.

His blue eyes focus on my fake-date, then slowly drags his gaze back to me. “Johnny Depp,” Duke drawls, and it’s as if heknowsthat his answer will light a fire under Caleb’s butt because there’s an unholy glimmer in his blue eyes. And, oh Lord, he’s grinning now.

Widely.

At me.

“The left incisor is fake.”

I jolt, feeling very much like I’ve stepped into a bucket of water, and then stuck my finger in an electrical socket, just for kicks. “What?”

Duke runs his tongue across his top left teeth. It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. That one swipe of his tongue makes me feel dirty. I just took a shower, but I need another one immediately. Then, he reaches out to tap his left incisor. “This one,” he says, “it’s not real.”

“Oh.”

It’s all I can say. I’m still recovering from the vision of his tongue and where I would like it to be—on me.

What iswrongwith me?

“You said the other day that my teeth must all be fake.”

“Did I?” I busy myself with a gulp of wine. “I don’t recall that.”

“No?” He watches me carefully. “It was right before you said that I’m overrated as a player.”

This is not good. I reach for my wine, only to realize that I’m on E. I pointedly look toward Caleb, but he notices my searching glance and pulls his pint out of reach.

Spoilsport.

I sip my water instead like a true lady.

---