Page 35 of Dating the Rebel
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
Her lips curved into a slight smile. “Maybe I just felt like getting a little action...”
He hoped like hell that was why she was here—for some action with him. He needed to release all that tension building inside him before he exploded.
“A little card action,” she clarified.
“I didn’t even know you played,” he admitted.
She sighed. “We’ve already established that you don’t really know me, Grant.”
After she’d kissed Alberta, he was beginning to wonder just how well he did.
“Sauvignon blanc,” he told the hostess. “That’s what she drinks.” At least he knew that about her, but that was only because her sister had taken pity on him and helped him plan that last date so it would be perfect.
It would have been, had she not gotten so angry with him.
Was this payback? Her showing up here looking sexy as hell and flirting with everyone but him?
Probably.
Alberta poured a glass and handed it to her. “If you needanythingelse, just let me know.”
“Oh, I will,” Miranda promised with that sexy little half smile of hers.
Grant gripped her elbow and guided her away from everyone else, toward the bedroom doorway. He stopped himself from dragging her inside with him and peeling all that leather from her sexy body. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Besides making him crazy.
Undoubtedly that was what she’d wanted, though, and she had somehow enlisted Alberta to help her. Who else had she enlisted?
“Playing poker,” she replied. “Your sister taught me years ago.”
He shook his head. “Blair’s not that good.”
“No,” Miranda agreed. “She has too honest a face.”
He leaned closer and studied hers. “You don’t.”
She smiled. “Neither do you.”
Realization dawned. There was only one way that she could have learned about his poker game. “Blair put you up to this.”
“Teo, actually,” she said. “He staked me so I could try to get his money back from you.”
A grin tugged at his lips. He’d had fun taking that money off the billionaire.
She touched the low neckline of leather vest. “Blair was responsible for this, and for flying me here.”
“What did you tell her?” he asked.
“Obviously I agreed, or I wouldn’t be here,” she said, as if he was an idiot.
“About us,” he clarified—even though he knew she knew what he’d meant. She was just messing with him. “What did you tell her about us?”
“Same thing you have,” she said.
“So nothing.”
