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I’m wide
awake. And right now, it’s sleep-thirty. I mean, you already called
it. It’s past two. In the morning.”
    “I’m a night person.”
    “Figures. Well. If you want to play chess,
I’m willing, but I’m not going to give you a very good match.”
    “Really? Why?”
    She sighed. Men. Seriously.
    “Aren’t you listening? Chess requires
concentration. Oh! And add in that sometimes an opponent takes so
long I get bored. That makes my moves sloppy and ill-conceived.
It’s not that I can’t play. I just lack the proper patience or
something. Chess requires too much mental acuity. It can be worse
than a full body workout.”
    “Exactly why I chose it.”
    That one eyebrow quirked up and sent her
pulse into overdrive again, and her breathing into nonexistence.
Or, maybe it was the lightning quick images that flitted through
her mind again, even more visual and graphic than before. Red lace.
Satiny sheets. Candlelight. Naked, muscled skin…entwined legs. Her
legs. Wrapped about him.
    “Please. Sit.”
    His voice interrupted what was rapidly
turning into an erotic fantasy for one. Her legs wobbled and she
fell, then did her best to act like she’d meant to sit that
hastily. The wingback chair was upholstered in a thick damask
fabric and stuffed so full, she bounced. She placed her purse on
her lap and tucked her skirt around her thighs with precision while
she waited for his next words. It was better than looking across
the table.
    “Are you right-handed?”
    “What?”
    She looked up and across the chess board at
him. She’d been right. The pieces were about six inches tall. They
were spectacularly carved, probably inlaid with real jewels, but
they weren’t enough to keep her from looking right at him. And
getting sucked right back into the deepest, most hypnotic eyes
she’d ever seen.
    “I asked if you’re right handed.”
    “I heard you. I just don’t know why it
matters.”
    “Trust me. It matters.”
    “Yes. I’m right handed.”
    He seemed to relax at that. Or she was losing
her mind.
    “Good.”
    “You’re a pretty odd guy, Mister Morgan.”
    “Dane.”
    “But I suppose rich people have their
eccentricities, don’t they?”
    “You believe in fate, Evangeline?”
    “Vangie,” she replied. “And no. I don’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “I believe in apple pie, and patriotism, and
doing the best you can with your time on this planet. I believe in
justice. And righteousness. And just plain honor and integrity. And
paying your taxes. You probably don’t pay taxes, do you?”
    “I’m sure I do.”
    “See? You don’t even know.”
    “I didn’t say that. I said I’m sure I do
because I’ve got estate executors for that.”
    “You’ve probably got loopholes to get out of
it.”
    “You think its sheer coincidence that we
met?”
    Vangie licked her lips. “Wow. Talk about a
one-track mind. You want to talk fate? And coincidence? Fine. But
meeting you had nothing sheer about it. We’re talking total
coincidence here…except you need to toss in stupidity, too. We met
because I took a job that I’m failing. They already paid me the
advance. And here I was just talking about integrity.”
    “What job?”
    “I need to buy your property.”
    “Which one?”
    Vangie’s expression fell. She felt it. “Which
one?” she repeated.
    “I have a lot of properties.”
    “Let me guess. You don’t even know how many,
do you?”
    “I have estate executors for that, too.”
    “Figures.”
    “So…why don’t you tell me which one you wish
to purchase, and I’ll consider it. And in the meantime, we’ll play
chess.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    He’d played chess for centuries; and more
than once, for property. He wasn’t sure how adept she’d be at the
game. So Dane picked up a pawn and reflected which move would buy
him the most time. Time…the one thing he’d always had so much of
was now the most precious commodity in the world. He had five
hours. To spend moving pieces around a chessboard,