A Sure Thing?

take the mud bath or the seaweed wrap tomorrow morning before heading back to the city. Anybody have any ideas on that?'

The conversation veered onto nonwork-related topics, and Matt made a concentrated effort to participate. And he was doing a damn good job of it, too, until midway through his entree, when something nudged his shin under the table. As the table was quite small, he moved his leg slightly to get it out of the way, while continuing to listen to Carol's story about a Caribbean cruise she'd taken last year. But seconds later, he was nudged again. And then he felt the unmistakable glide of a shoeless foot slipping up his pant leg.

He froze, his forkful of chicken arrested halfway to his mouth. His gaze swiveled to Jilly who resembled the picture of innocence-except for the telltale crimson stain rising on her cheeks-a stain that surely wasn't caused by Carol's retelling of her shopping adventures in the Caribbean straw market.

He tried to move his leg away, but there wasn't much room to maneuver, and she was persistent, brushing her foot over his shin.

A combination of irritation and desire nipped at him at her tactics. Clearly she'd abandoned their agreement to stick to business during dinner, and while he couldn't deny he liked her attentions, he didn't care for her timing.

Shooting her a warning glare, which she missed as her attention remained focused on Carol, he moved his leg again. And again her toes followed, gliding over his pants, this time inching higher, past his knee, and onto his thigh.

Damn it, enough was enough. Two could play at this game. If she thought-

She pushed back her chair and rose. Sizzling him with a pointed look that appeared to throw more daggers than Cupid's arrows, she murmured, 'Please excuse me. I need to visit the ladies' room.'

Matt mentally counted to ten, then rose. 'Excuse me, please. Men's room.' He walked swiftly toward the archway through which Jilly had disappeared. After turning two corners, he reached the rest rooms. She stood outside the ladies' room, hands on hips, shoe tapping against the marble floor, her narrowed eyeballs all but emitting steam.

'What the hell are you doing?' she said, her voice an angry hiss.

He simply stared. 'Me?'

'Yes, you. When we agreed that this dinner was strictly business, that didn't mean monkey business.'

'Something you might want to recall, Miss I'm Not Wearing Underwear.'

'I only said that because you pulled your macho take-charge act in the elevator.'

His gaze skimmed over her skirt. 'So does that mean you're really wearing underwear?'

Her eyes narrowed further, and she crossed her arms over her chest. 'That's not the point right now-'

'No, it's not,' he agreed, stepping closer to her. 'The point is that for someone who claims she prides herself on playing fair, you've been cheating. I'll play by whatever set of guidelines you want, but the next time you decide to switch rules, I'd appreciate it if you'd deal me in.'

'You're a fine one to talk,' she said, her eyes glittering with obvious anger. 'What, are you pissed because I wouldn't participate in your little game of footsie?'

'You call that not participating? For God's sake, your foot was practically in my crotch.' A frown tugged down his brows. 'And what do you mean my little game of footsie?'

'What do you mean my foot was practically in your crotch? I didn't touch you.'

'Well, I didn't touch you, either.'

Her eyes widened. 'Wait a minute. Are you telling me that wasn't your foot caressing me under the table?'

'Yes. Are you telling me that wasn't your foot snaking up my leg?'

She held her hand over her heart. 'Swear.' They stared at each other in silence for several seconds, then she said, 'It was definitely a man's foot making nice-nice with me. So if it wasn't you, it had to be Jack.'

'And the foot making familiar with me was definitely a woman's-so it must have been Carol.' He cleared his throat. 'Sorry for thinking you'd played foul.'

'Apology accepted-and extended back. Sorry.' Jilly blew out a breath. 'I guess the only question remaining is did they mean to fondle us? Or were they trying to fondle each other and we just got in the way?'

Matt's jaw tightened. 'That bastard. He damn well better not have been making a pass at you.'

'I agree. I knew Jack wouldn't win any Mr. Charming prizes, but what a lousy thing to do, with his date sitting right there.'

'Yeah,' Matt agreed, although that wasn't at all what he'd meant. Anger pumped through him that Jack had dared to touch her, an emotion that wasn't calmed at all by the recollection that she might not be wearing panties. 'Just how friendly did he manage to get with you?'

'I stood up when he reached my knee.' She blew out a breath. 'This is no less awkward for you. After all, the date of the man you're trying to impress might be making the moves on you.'

'Definitely awkward,' Matt agreed.

'Surely they thought they were touching each other.'

'I don't know. While I was talking to Carol, I noticed Jack sort of giving you the eye.' The bastard.

'Unfortunately I think you might be right. He made a few comments that definitely skidded the line.'

'Oh? And how did you respond?'

Her expression cooled to a mask of chilled detachment. 'The same way I've responded every time I've been placed in a similar situation. With professional courtesy and nothing more. I told you-I don't play footsie, or any other games, with clients.' Lifting her chin, she asked, 'So, how do we handle this potential problem?'

'Personally, I think it's time for the meal to end. If they were trying to make the moves on each other, it's time for them to be alone. And if either of them was making a move on either one of us, it's way past time for this meal to end.'

'All right. But let's try not to make it a totally obvious getaway. How about I plead a headache and leave, and then you can make your escape about ten minutes later?'

'Fine.'

She made to move past him, clearly intent upon returning to the table. Extending a hand, he snagged her arm. She looked at him with that same cool detachment, an expression that filled him with an uncomfortable sense of loss he didn't like one bit.

When he remained silent, she raised her brows. 'Did you want something, Matt?'

Yes. I want you to stop looking at me with that dismissive expression, and look at me with that smoky, aroused look I love. Drawing a deep breath, he said, 'Yes. I want you to know that I realize you don't play those sort of games with clients, and if you thought I implied otherwise, I'm sorry.' He took a step closer to her, inhaling her clean scent, the backs of his fingers brushing against the warm, outer curve of her breast. With his gaze steady on hers, he said, 'And I want you to know that if Carol was putting a move on me, I'm definitely not interested.'

'Not that it's any of my business, but I think you'd be insane to risk it, what with Jack sitting right there.'

'Jack has nothing to do with my disinterest in Carol.'

Something indecipherable flashed in her eyes. Good. At least she didn't look quite so impassive anymore. 'Anything else?' she asked.

'Yeah. When you return to the room, don't get undressed. I want to discover for myself what you are, or aren't, wearing under that skirt.'

* * *

Bumping the door to room 312 closed with her hip, Jilly tossed her clutch purse onto the dresser and paced to the widow. She only had a few minutes before Matt arrived, and she badly needed a precoital pep talk.

Okay, it didn't matter that Carol had most likely known damn well whose leg she was exploring. And it wouldn't have mattered if Matt had taken the blonde up on her offer. He was attractive and single, and after tomorrow, no concern of Jilly's.

Of course, that didn't explain her profound relief that Matt hadn't found Carol attractive, or the unpleasant sting