Free Four Dukes and a Devil by Jeaniene Frost, Cathy Maxwell, Tracy Anne Warren, Sophia Nash, Elaine Fox Page B

glance grazed him from tee shirt to sneakers. “You don’t look like you are.”
    He burst out laughing, and she blushed. She hadn’t meant to insult him, but of course she had. Lord, she couldn’t play this game. She had no idea how to flirt. When she’d met Lawrence, she’d been set up by friends. At a wine tasting. At the National Gallery. All she’d had to do was talk coherently about the Impressionists, and that was easy.
    “Touché, Gray. You’re tougher than you look. So, are you here on vacation?”
    “I’m summering here.” She twisted her glass in the condensation on the bar. The bartender had forgone the formality of a cocktail napkin with drink number two. “What about you?”
    His smile curled ironically.
    She shook her head, sighing. “What did I say this time?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean you’re looking rather…condescending again.”
    One long-fingered hand touched his own chest. “Me? Condescending? I promise you, Gray, I didn’t mean to…” His words petered out, and he laughed at her skeptical look. “Oh okay. It was ‘summering.’ That word. Nobody but debutantes and doctors’ wives use seasons as verbs.”
    “And nobody but reverse snobs throw ‘debutante’ around as an insult.” She socked away another gulp of wine and felt proud of herself. It was an awkward parry, but still. She wasn’t taking any of this guy’s guff. “Not to mention that you were wrong. I was neither a debutante nor am I a doctor’s wife.”
    The look he gave her kicked up a surprising team of butterflies in her stomach. Appreciation and amusement. It made her feel that not only was he looking at her, but he was really seeing her.
    “I’m very glad to hear that.”
    The words made her feel hot. She took a calming breath. “Okay, so, what does one typically do in a place like this?”
    Sam gave her a conspiratorial smile. “I’ll tell you what ‘one’ does,” he said, “in a place like this.”
    She looked up quickly to find him laughing at her again, but this time it was overt, not smug. She chuckled.
    “One does clams.” He motioned for the bartender again.
    “Clams? What do you mean?”
    “I mean fried clams. The Den may not do much right in the way of food, but they have some of the best fried clams on the Cape. And the onion rings are first-rate.” He put one foot up on the lower rail of her stool. “Besides, it is what one does here. Can I order you some?” She hesitated, and he took the opportunity to flag the bartender. “Two clam plates with onion rings. And put it on my tab.”
    Gray smiled. It was chivalrous, in a way. And because she didn’t want to drink two glasses of wine on an empty stomach, she was grateful. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome. Don’t want you leaving the Cape without trying all the delicacies.”
    “You’re actually a nice guy, aren’t you?” She looked at him quizzically.
    He laughed. “Was there ever any doubt?”

Chapter Three
    S am looked at that perfect porcelain-doll face, smiling up at him with lips that cried out to be kissed and eyes that challenged, despite something naked in their depths, and felt a tightening in the pit of his stomach. This girl was uncomfortably beautiful. And she was a helluva lot sharper than he’d given her credit for, even if he was still certain she was former debutante material.
    But hey, she wanted slumming, he could give her slumming. And maybe be entertained in return. After all, any woman who would be in a position to have her dress stolen by a dog had to have some wildness in her.
    The clams arrived, and they feasted, then had another round of drinks. She was looking just the slightest bit tipsy when she held up a hand, and said, “Enough. I can’t consume another bite or take another sip of anything. Except maybe some water.”
    Sam ordered a couple of waters.
    “So what do you do up here?” Gray asked him, her eyes glowing in the dim bar light. “If you’re not just