“I really don’t want you paying it off,” she said, grabbing his wrists for emphasis. “Promise me it’s a real game, and we go to the end of the night. We play until everyone else folds.”

“I promise you.”

“I don’t want to have to take your money. I want to prove that I can do this.”

“And you will. I offer it as insurance. That’s all. And that’s why you’ll win. Because you want to do this on your terms. Because the thought of anyone paying your way makes you dig your heels in like a batter at the plate swinging for the fences. Come to the plate. And hit it out of the park,” he said, as if he were making a motivational speech.

A damn powerful one.

She wanted to say no, to insist on doing it her way. But he’d taken a hit for her. And he was offering her a way to fall in love with poker again and to win on her terms. He was offering to be there with her, for her, not to own her, but to help her. With every move he made, she was falling harder and harder, and she was sure there’d be no turning back from this man. She’d been so closed-off from the start about letting someone into her world. Now, he was all the way in, and the only thing she was afraid of was him not being part of her world.

So she did the thing she’d never have imagined doing a mere month ago. Hell, a week ago. “Then we have a deal.”

“Good,” he said with a happy, woozy smile as he lay flat on his back, pulling her on top of him, angling up his hips. He was growing hard against her. “Now I’m tired and I’m wounded and I could use a little — ”

She cut him off. “There’s only one true cure for a wounded man,” she said, and went under the sheets. She stroked him to a full erection, then dropped her mouth onto him.

He groaned as she wrapped her lips tightly around his cock. He pushed back the sheets so he could watch her. She looked up at him, wanting him to see the desire in her eyes. His went dark and hazy as he stared at her mouth moving lovingly along his shaft. She tucked her knees up under her, getting into the perfect position for giving him the blow job he deserved.

She let him fall from her lips for a moment, but kept her hand wrapped around him. “Enjoy this. Enjoy everything I’m going to do to you, my gorgeous, sexy, wounded man who rescued me,” she whispered, pushing her other palm on his flat abs, feeling his washboard belly as she returned her mouth to him. She took him in deep, the way he liked, and used her hands too, touching his stomach, squeezing a small, dark nipple, causing him to jerk his hips up hard into her mouth.

She moved her hands lower, down his body, stroking his muscular thighs, settling deeper into the space between his legs. He parted them, giving her room to get cozy, and she thrilled inside at how he gave his body to her, trusting her with his pleasure just as she had with him. She drew him into her warm mouth as far as he could go. She sucked hard and passionately, wanting him to feel flooded with sensations that blotted out any of the lingering pain from the fight. Cupping his balls in one hand, she slipped another hand under his ass, squeezing a cheek hard in her palm.

He groaned loudly in response, and the sound sent heat flowing through her body.

“I’ll take another hit to my head for this,” he murmured, his voice both weary and thoroughly needy. He reached for her head, threading his hands tightly in her hair.

She let go momentarily. “Pull my hair if you need to,” she said.

He gripped hard as she returned to him, tugging her hair over to the side, yanking her head so he could stare hungrily at her face as she licked and sucked the full length of his fantastic cock.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he said, outlining her lips with a finger, tracing the edge of her mouth as she held him tight and deep, swirling her tongue along his shaft the way he loved.

She was sure he groaned louder than he ever had as she worked him over with her hands and her mouth, touching him in all the ways that drove him crazy. His body was a playground for her fingers, and she ran them along his thighs, over his ass, and in that spot just under his balls that drove a man wild. He gave himself over to her, rocking his hips into her mouth as she traveled to his favorite places. A pinch there, a touch here, a squeeze of those sexy cheeks: she was showing him that she knew how to control all his pleasure too. Then, as she gripped his firm ass in her hands, she fucked his cock with her mouth until she felt the shudders roll through his body.

He grappled at her hair, his breathing turning wildly erratic as he gripped her head, thrusting and calling out her name as the taste of his release slid down her throat.

Minutes later, she nestled herself in next to him. With his arm wrapped around her, she kissed his neck, his stubbled jaw, his tender cheek. “You like it when I let you control me, and I like it when you lose control for me,” she whispered.

“Mmmm,” he murmured. “We are a good combo.”

“The best,” she said as she closed her eyes, feeling like they were partners in everything at last.

* * *

Another pair of Advil did wonders to mute the throbbing in his skull, but the dull ache was a useful reminder of what he was up against as he pushed open the door to Mr. Pong’s shortly after noon the next day. The smell of fried pork and noodles filled his nostrils. Waiters bustled around delivering plates of pepper steak and lo mein to the lunch crowd.

It was your standard order Chinese restaurant with thick menus and illustrated pictures of the twelve signs of the Chinese New Year— such as horses, snakes and rats, along with an illustrated dragon image presiding over them all.

Fitting, he reasoned, as a hurried waiter rushed over to him.

“One for lunch?”

“No. I’m joining someone. You can tell Mr. Stravinski that I’m here.”

The waiter looked confused. “Sorry. Who should I tell him is here?”

“Tell him the guy he’s expecting to see.”

“Okay,” the waiter said, narrowing his eyebrows briefly at the request before turning on his heels to find the man in charge.

Moments later, a tall man in a sharp suit strode over to him. He had thick, dark hair and muddy-brown eyes and some of the worst teeth Clay had ever seen. He wasn’t thin, he wasn’t fat; he was simply the sturdy type.

He extended a hand to shake.

“Clay Nichols,” he said.

“Charlie Stravinksi. I had a feeling I’d be seeing you. Come,” he said, gesturing grandly to the restaurant as if he were quite proud of the joint he’d taken over on a debt that went belly-up. “There is a table for us near the kitchen.”

“Fantastic,” Clay said coolly, as if this were just another lunchtime business meeting.

After they sat, a waiter handed Clay a menu. “Thank you.”

Charlie tapped the menu. “Everything here is delicious. But may I personally recommend the kung pao chicken,” he said, bringing his fingertips to his mouth and kissing them as a chef does.

“Consider it done,” Clay said, pushing the menu to the side. He had every intention of not only talking to Charlie, but breaking bread with the man. If there was one thing he’d learned in his years as a lawyer, it was that the more you knew about the opposing side, the better off you were. And the less fear you showed, the more likely you’d win the points you wanted. Besides, he had a hunch Charlie was the type of man who would act supremely gentlemanly to a worthy adversary.

Clay planned to be just that.

“So, you messed up the nose of my new guy,” Charlie began, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“It got in the way of my fist.”

Charlie scratched his neck, as if he were a dog itching fleas. “He shouldn’t have been there. He’s too hot-headed to be on the street.”

“Yeah?”

Charlie shook his head, and blew out a long stream of air. A man frustrated, he placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “Stevie was supposed to give her the message, but he came down with the flu, he claimed,” Charlie said with a scoff.

“I’m guessing that’s the last time he’ll duck out of work for a sick day,” Clay said dryly.

Charlie laughed, throwing back his head and letting loose several deep chuckles. Then he took a deep breath, and the laughing silenced. “What are you here for?”

“Seems we have something in common, don’t we?” Clay said, establishing first their mutual interests.

“Red.”

“That’s what you call Julia?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s the thing, Charlie,” Clay began, keeping his voice completely even and controlled as he knew how to do. “Can I call you Charlie? Or do you prefer Mr. Stravinski?”

“Charlie is fine.”

“So here’s the thing,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair, mirroring Charlie’s moves. “You’re going to need to go through me now.”

Charlie arched an eyebrow. “I am?”

“You are.”

“And why would I do that?”

“I’m her lawyer and I’m handling you. And that’s how it’s going to work. You want your money, I presume?”

“I would like it,” Charlie said. “I am fond of money.”

“I had a feeling you were, so I brought some extra to settle some matters,” Clay said, then dipped into his pocket for his wallet. Taking his time he opened it up, wet a finger, and counted some crisp bills. He laid $500 on the table. “This is for your guy. It’s a way of saying I’m not sorry his nose ran into my fist, but I do aim to take responsibility for my actions.”

Charlie eyed the money approvingly. “Go on.”

He peeled off another five $100 bills, adding them to the stack. “This is for you to leave her alone this week.”

A laugh fell from Charlie’s lips. “It’s going to cost more than that.”

Clay added $500 to the pile, then raised an eyebrow in question. Charlie nodded. “That’ll do.”

“And this,” he continued, adding five more to the pile, “Is a promise that we will have the $10,000 remaining on the debt to you by next weekend.”

“Or?”

“There’s no or,” Clay said firmly, never wavering as his eyes remained locked on the man across from him. “It will be paid. And you will be done with her. Is that clear?”

“Why should it be clear?”

“Because that’s how deals are done, Charlie. When the final $10,000 is paid, she’s free and clear and I never want you to talk to her, be in touch with her, or send your men after her again,” he said, his eyes locked on the man he despised, never wavering.

“Are you going to ask me to sign something? A legal contract, perhaps?” Charlie said in a mocking tone.

He shook his head. “They don’t make contracts for this kind of deal. That’s why I paid you the extra just now in good faith. Those are the terms of our contract. Good faith.”

Charlie paused, and cocked his head to the side. Looked Clay up and down. Then his lips curled up. “I can live with those terms.”

“And you can live with the other ones? When this is done, it’s over and out?”

“If she has the money for me, I will not ever need to see her again,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I told you. We will have the money. But she’s not playing in your games anymore.”

“Really?” Charlie said, doubt dripping from his mouth. “What is she going to do? Play the slot machines in Vegas to get my ten grand?”

Clay laughed and shook his head. “No. But does it matter? Do you care where your money comes from, or just that it arrives in a neat, green package?”

“Green is good. But I will be in New York next weekend. I’m moving a game there.”

“What a coincidence. I happen to live in New York,” he said.

“You will pay me there. By Sunday morning I want it. One week,” he said, holding up his index finger in emphasis. “We will meet at eleven at my favorite restaurant in the Village. I will get you the name.”

“Consider it done.”

“And we will do business like men. We will shake on it when the deal is done.”

“I’ll be there.”

The waiter arrived then with two orders of chicken and two sets of chopsticks.

“Dig in,” Charlie said.

Clay took a bite and nodded in approval. “That’s some damn fine kung pao chicken.”

“As you can see, it would have broken my heart to drive this place to the ground like I could have. I kept it open for the chicken. It’s rated best kung pao chicken in San Francisco. Nothing makes me prouder.”

“It’s the little things in life, isn’t it?” Clay said, holding up a piece of chicken between his chopsticks as if in a toast to the dish.