He leaned back and crossed his arms, studying her with new eyes. Had she actually agreed to play strip poker with him? Little Miss Pious Charity? “Then you’re only getting half of what I’m willing to give.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How much are we talking about here?”
“How much do you want?” he dared.
She surveyed him, and he could almost see the numbers climbing in her head, as though she thought she was worth a king’s ransom. “Two million,” she said.
He clenched his jaw. “For two, you take it all off.”
“Not if I win.” She yanked the doors open. “Where am I supposed to meet you?”
He squeezed his hands tight at his sides, emotions still roiling in his chest with nowhere to go, sending him to hell with her easy concession. He’d wanted to fight more. He’d wanted an outlet for the things she made him feel. Instead she’d agreed, and Cade stood there, in the middle of his office, pulsing with rage and desire.
He lowered his voice, but it came out gruff and somehow revealed his arousal. “Give me your damned card. I’ll have someone pick you up.”
“There.” She fished out her card from her bag and slapped it card into his hand, her lips stiff as she spoke. “Thank you for your time.”
“My pleasure,” he said, biting his tongue, and then he watched her from his doorway as she walked toward the elevators.
His gut twisted as he surveyed the sway of her hips, studied her shapely calves under her simple skirt, and he started getting worked up as he imagined her without clothes. Oh, fuck, he was going to see her in her panties if it killed him.
It was only when he watched her board the elevator that he realized a quiet had descended across the floor. Everyone seemed to be staring at him like he’d just grown an extra head, and it was uglier than the first.
Straightening, Cade turned and barked, “Get the hell back to work!”
Chapter Two
He wasn’t going to scare her.
Ivy Summers had faced much worse in her short thirty years of life, and she hadn’t been scared so far. Oh, no, she wasn’t letting Mister Cade “Anger Issues” West scare her in the least.
No matter how powerful he was.
How amazingly rich.
Or how pissed off.
Nope. She was not afraid of Cade West, and she repeated this thought like a mantra all day with the hope of engraving it and framing it—proudly—inside her spinning head. Still, her heart pounded like a live, mad trapped chicken in her chest as she rode in the back of the Bentley he’d sent for her. Her palms were sweating and her nerves had been gnawing at her all day.
Because she really was a chicken.
Agonizing over the thought of being bested by Cade West, Ivy stared unseeingly at the book How to Win at Poker she’d rushed to buy right after her meeting with him. The other ladies at the foundation would rather face a firing squad than approach him, and after today, Ivy considered joining their little club.
Cade West was frightening. He was raw, angry, and as close to animal as she’d ever seen a human being in her life. There seemed to be no line of respect with him, like he did not give a damn about rules, unless you invaded his personal space. Which clearly, Ivy had done. Not only by requesting his money, but by mentioning his wife.
And now she was on her way to his place to play a game she’d never played in her life, and all she could do was pray that she got a good donation out of him.
The faces of all the people counting on her success tonight flickered in her mind. She remembered her mother, how bravely she’d fought, and later, how gracefully she’d succumbed with the satisfaction of having given life her everything.
She thought of her friends at the Lincoln Heights Breast Cancer Foundation who had it. They all wanted to fight, but some had no means to, even if they had the will. Ivy wanted to help them. She had to help them. She’d promised herself that she would, and she’d made the promise to them, too, even when Cade West had refused to see her.
Well, he’d seen her now.
And tonight, he might see her in her underwear.
Oh, God, how could she bear it? She’d seen his rage today. It had swirled in the depths of his eyes the instant he’d looked up at her. Along with an unexpected hunger …
A rush of sensations slid under her skin as she remembered his smoldering gaze. He’d snared her, with those eyes, eyes so pale they were almost colorless. She truly had never seen eyes that color before. Or such a raw, unbridled expression as when he’d looked at her.
Imagining those eyes seeing her in only her panties made her woman’s parts tickle so uncomfortably she wanted to scream.
No! She wouldn’t dare let him see her “bare-butt naked,” as he’d said, and she was certainly not going to make it easy for him. Which was why she’d changed. Now she was dressed in so many layers of clothing, she felt roasted in her own skin by the time she arrived at his building.
Her attire seemed to be the first thing he noticed when Mr. I-Crap-on-Cancer West opened the door to his top-floor apartment.
“Did it freeze tonight?”
Her smile felt tight on her face, but the sight of him so close provoked some odd sensations inside of her, and she had trouble speaking. Her physical reactions to him astounded her.
Her insides had seized with his presence, and as they finally unwound, everything resumed at a frantic pace. Her heartbeat, her lung expansion, the blood shooting in torrents down her veins.
He was big, at least six foot three, and he was dark as sin. Everything about him was dark as sin, except the lightness of those eyes, with those dark pupils, watching her with a burning thirst that opened up some unknown carnal impulses within her.
“Or were you planning to move to Iceland?” He stepped aside with a cock of his dark head.
She tried to enter rather breezily and with confidence, which was really hard with all the layers she was wearing. Especially considering she was going to spend the next hours with a very pissed off, possible donor, whom she could not flip off again if she wanted to help her foundation. “I’m very sensitive to air-conditioning,” she said lightly.
“No shit you are, lady.”
He closed the door behind her, and she was surprised to see that his apartment was rather cozy and not as intimidating as the man. It wasn’t over-the-top, one of the money traps she’d heard many millionaires tended to fall into once they had dollars coming out of their ears. No. Cade’s place was manly and tasteful, with incredible views of the city, and furniture that was strikingly simple but also … large and thick. Dark woods. Chunky sofas. All done in chocolate and navy, which blended beautifully with the maple wood floor.