Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) by Andrea Simonne Read Free Book Online Page A

group.”
    “I agree he was weird, but it was only a poker game. You don’t think maybe you’re overreacting?”
    Images flash in his head of the time he spent in North Africa last year, some of the horrors he saw there. “Those guys don’t care who they harm.” His eyes drill into hers. “They’re paid killers who enjoy it. I’ve seen the damage they do firsthand.”
    Lindsay grows quiet.
    “I know you think I was being a dick, but I wasn’t. You don’t want to get on the radar of a guy like that, trust me.”
    She nods. “Okay, maybe you were right.”
    Giovanni lets his breath out, relieved she’s not going to give him a hard time about this anymore. He thinks about that mercenary. Sometimes, the laws that protect people are protecting the wrong ones.
    “Are you okay?” She moves closer. “You seem out of sorts.”
    “I’m good.”
    She points down. “Is it still bothering you?”
    He glances at his left hand. “Not really.”
    The room’s air conditioner hums in the background. Various floor noises thump from the room above his. Even the regular sounds here seem incohesive and strange to him. Nothing like the nighttime quiet punctuated with distant gunfire he’d somehow grown accustomed to.
    The most surreal thing of all is Lindsay. He still can’t take his eyes off her. He’s too aware of her, of how soft she’d feel beneath him, how her cries of ecstasy would soothe him and bring him back to normalcy. A part of him wants that because he knows it would work. It would do the trick like it does every time. He wonders if she’d give him that gift again, but then he stops that line of thinking, shakes it off.
    He licks his lips. “So, how about you explain the poker to me. Anthony told me you were an artist.”
    “I am an artist.”
    She starts describing how she’s in Berlin as part of some artist’s program, but he cuts her off. “Give me a break. You’re obviously a professional poker player.”
    “No, I’m not. I just told you I’m an artist.”
    “A card shark might be a better description,” he mutters.
    “That’s ridiculous!”
    “I watched you tonight, so don’t lie to me.”
    She moves away from him and sits down in the chair, starts examining some of the objects on the desk. “I was only having fun. It’s a hobby.”
    “You bled that poor bastard dry. The whole table was losing to you. Were you cheating?”
    “Of course not!” She glares at him. “Could you be more insulting? It’s one thing after another with you. I don’t need to cheat to win.”
    “Then how did you do it?”
    She doesn’t answer right away. Pulling out a piece of hotel stationery, she folds it in half, then shrugs. “It was mostly luck.”
    “Come on, do you really think I’m that dumb? You purposefully cleaned that guy out.”
    “Hey, I always play a straight game. It’s not my fault he was playing on tilt.”
    “What does that mean?”
    She sniffs. “It means he was emotionally compromised and making poor decisions.”
    “And that’s your rationale?”
    “If it wasn’t me winning against him, it would have been somebody else. I didn’t cheat.”
    “Maybe not, but you were obviously working some angle.” He thinks back over the evening. “And it’s clear you hang out at that casino all the time.”
    She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Like I said, it’s a hobby. And if it earns me a little extra money on the side, so what?” She meets his eyes. “I am an artist. A damn good one.”
    “So, why did you ask me not to tell my brother about you playing poker?”
    Lindsay considers him for a long moment, probably trying to figure out the best way to play him . Her beautiful features grow thoughtful.
    He still can’t believe the crazy thing he said to her in the cab—how her face could be improved. He doesn’t even know what possessed him to say something so asinine.
    “I don’t want my sister to find out I’m playing cards,” she finally admits. She tears a piece of