Free Delilah's Flame by Andrea Parnell

and then Tabor his. Her lips went into a soft pout. “You are entirely too skilled for me, Tabor. You’ve won again.”
    “Looks that way.” He grinned. He should be complimenting her on her skills. She was quite a woman. Every word, every gesture, every glance designed to ignite a man’s passion. And it did. For the last hour he’d felt that he had a volcano inside him. If she wanted him at a fever pitch when they made love, she would have her wish. With every minute that passed, he was more fascinated with her. She was a better poker player than she let on, too good to lose every hand. That too had to be deliberate. Maybe she thought it swelled a man’s pride to win.
    “More brandy, Tabor?” She stood for a moment and refilled his snifter, brushing her arm against his shoulder as she placed it on the table. “You aren’t by any chance a professional gambler, are you?”
    “Not at cards,” he returned, feeling a jolt as her flesh touched him and the scent of her perfume invaded his nostrils.
    That was the third glass of brandy she had forced on him. He could swear she was trying to get him drunk. But why? If she opened another button on her bodice, he would gladly do anything she asked. Maybe she wanted to be sure she could stay in control of the situation. His easy grin widened. “I do enjoy the excitement of taking risks. How about you?”
    “Oh, I rather like following the tried-and-true. Maybe that’s why I so seldom win.”
    “At cards?”
    Annoyed, Delilah almost forgot to smile. She wasn’t accustomed to having a man tease her. The problem was, Tabor held his liquor too well. He wasn’t the least bit tipsy and now he’d stopped drinking. At least she’d learned enough about him to feel confident her hasty plan would work. He’d been in the navy until recently and evidently never in Mexico. The detective had done a poor job tracing Stanton. He seemed to have no roots. He mentioned no family. As best she could tell, he drifted around living on what was left of his navy pay.
    “You haven’t touched your brandy,” she said as she dealt another hand.
    He lifted one eyebrow devilishly. “I don’t like drinking alone.”
    “We’ll have to remedy that.” Delilah quickly rose to her feet and poured herself another snifter of brandy. She wished she’d added the powder when she poured his. Maybe she could distract him and slip it into his glass at the table. She didn’t want to prolong this encounter. She didn’t like the way those smoke-gray eyes looked as if they could see right through her. She didn’t like the way that grin softened his face and made it look so...appealing. She wanted to be done with Tabor Stanton as soon as possible.
    Damn! Delilah swore under her breath. The little silver snuffbox with the powder wasn’t in her pocket. She’d been so upset about Dinah, she’d forgotten to get it from Loo. She felt like crying. This might be a long night after all. She had no choice but to get Tabor genuinely drunk.
    “Drink up,” she said, and took a generous swallow of brandy. “Let’s play another hand. My luck might change.”
    “Or mine might,” he quipped.
    She lost, again and again. Looking forlorn, Delilah cast her luminous blue eyes on him and said a bit thickly, “Pour me another brandy.”
    Tabor got unsteadily to his feet. “Brandy’s all gone,” he reported. “Champagne too.”
    Delilah watched him bump the chair and breathed a sigh of relief. “Sherry, then, and tell me about the Admiral.”
    “Which one?”
    “The four-legged one. The one you spent your severance pay on.”
    Tabor grinned. “You ought to see him. Black as midnight, almost seventeen hands at the withers, long powerful legs, good bloodlines, and he’s smart, smarter than most of the scalawags I sailed with.”
    “And you spent all your money to buy this horse, the Admiral?”
    Tabor settled back in his chair. Christ! His head was swimming. Was she trying to stroke his passion or put it out?