Hot in the City. Samantha Hunter

that Della was helpless to resist.

      She was more than willing to play.

      “Sure. Why not?”

      He leaned in closer. “This is a delicate undercover project. You’ll do whatever I need you to do,” he teased mischievously.

      Della almost giggled.

      “Well, nothing that could put me on a no-fly list.”

      “That leaves a lot we could do,” he said, and though she knew he was only flirting, having some fun, there was a look in his eye that threw her off. Like he was enjoying this as much as she was.

      “Well, it’s only been three weeks. And I’ve been out of town for most of that time. I’m not sure we’ve had sex yet,” she said primly.

      He chuckled and leaned in. “Oh, honey, we had sex the first night, and almost every night after. We can’t keep our hands off each other. It’s the most amazing sex of your life,” he said, gloating.

      Della’s pulse raced at the thought. “You’re pretty confident. And apparently I’m very...easy.”

      He nodded. “See? We’re like peanut butter and jelly.”

      Again, he made her laugh. Unsure what to say, she resorted to reaching into her bag for a deck of cards she always carried with her.

      “Play cards?” she asked.

      “What game?”

      “Solitaire.”

      “How about poker? Maybe we could make it interesting, if you’re a girl who likes to gamble.”

      “No gambling for me,” she said with a shake of her head.

      “Addiction?” he asked, very seriously.

      “No, I’m just...really good.” She glanced at him from under her lashes, hoping he bought it. “I always win.”

      One brow raised. “Lots of college poker parties?”

      “Something like that.”

      The truth was that she won because she couldn’t help but count the cards and mentally calculate odds. It had almost gotten her into hot water at a casino once.

      “Well, now you’ve made me curious. No stakes, but let’s see if you’re as good as you say you are.”

      She smiled, taking out the cards and shuffling them quite expertly, which drew another impressed glance from her sexy neighbor.

      “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

      He was toast.

      Della took the majority of the hands over the course of the flight, but she admired how Gabe didn’t give up. She also liked that he wasn’t a sore loser. In fact, he seemed to have a lot of fun with her, unlike other men she’d played cards with. They never liked a woman winning all the time.

      If there had been stakes, she would have cleaned him out.

      Gabe managed to win a few hands. He was a clever player, and though he wasn’t counting cards, he was a shrewd observer and had a great poker face.

      He won the last hand as the captain announced their imminent arrival, his grin wide.

      “Too bad I didn’t bet a kiss on that last hand.”

      “I, um, er,” she mumbled as she almost dropped the cards while putting them back in the box.

      He caught them, sliding his hand over hers as he did so.

      She held her breath as they started their descent. Gabe didn’t release her hand, but squeezed it reassuringly.

      If she was going to die in an airplane, this was definitely the way to go.

      Except that she hoped that maybe...would he want to see her after they landed? Should she perhaps suggest dinner? Or maybe just a drink? Would he think she was asking for more?

       Was she?

      It took so much time to work up her nerve that she didn’t even realize they were already speeding down the runway, then rolling to the gate.

      She swallowed—this was the time. Now or never.

      What was the worst he could say? No? He was definitely flirting with her, so there was a chance, right?

      But as she released her held breath, he freed her hand, standing quickly as people jockeyed for position to leave the plane. He stepped back, gesturing for her to exit in front of him.

      “Ladies first.”

      Della was overly aware of his big body behind her, crowding her slightly as she reached up and grabbed her bag, his front bumping up against her back, especially when he reached forward to get his own bag, leaning over her.

       Ask him. Now.

      Then they were moving forward, out of the plane, up the jet bridge, pushed along by the momentum of the people around them, all hurrying to exit.

      She turned, and Gabe was looking at his watch, frowning, his expression suddenly distant.

      “Gabe, I—”

      “Della, it was great to meet you. Thanks for the company and the cards,” he said quickly, obviously distracted. “Sorry, I have to run.” He offered a smile before he turned in the opposite direction, walking off.

      She waved, though he wasn’t looking anymore.

      Della blinked, her cheeks burning as she started walking away, disappointed and embarrassed. In a flash, she was back in the hallway of her junior high, younger than the other kids in her class, with a crush on a cute boy who laughed when she waved and said hi and then kept on walking. Then, like now, it felt like everyone had seen her make a fool of herself—that they were all looking at her—though that wasn’t so, of course.

      Back in school, the boys liked to flirt with her so she would help them with their math, but when it came to parties and dances, she was never included. She knew why, but at least when she helped them with their studies, they talked to her. Her parents had warned her constantly to keep to herself, that people would always want to use her for something. That she couldn’t be gullible and trusting. That she was meant for more important things than boys and parties.

      Their advice had been true often enough. Gabe had only been looking for some amusement on the flight, nothing more. She shouldn’t have made more of it, knowing better.

      Swallowing her letdown, she refocused her thoughts on work as she rode into the city, alone. As usual.

      * * *

      GABRIEL ROSS—AT LEAST, that was the name he was using for the moment—made it to his hotel still thinking about the woman on the plane. His lips kicked up into a smile as he thought about her, but he killed it. This was work. She was work.

      Still, he was human. And male. Sitting so closely on the plane, he’d had more than one fantasy about how easy it would be to pick her up and do any number of arousing things to her, she was so petite. If he released her strawberry-blond hair from its sharply pulled back ponytail, how would it frame her heart-shaped face? How would she like to be kissed? How would she taste?

      He’d love to find out what else made her blush. Watching her tightly rounded rear end as she walked ahead of him on the jet bridge had driven him crazy. He’d been close to asking her to dinner. Maybe for more than dinner.

      It wasn’t often anyone—man or woman—beat him at poker. But of course, it would be tough to beat someone with her card-counting skills. She might be able to fool the average person, but Gabe was trained to notice such things. Once he’d figured out her game, he was able to take a few hands. It hadn’t been easy, though. He’d enjoyed the challenge.

      But she also wasn’t a random person he’d met at the airport. She was his target. Or one of them. Dr. Olive Delilah Clark—Della,