God damn doctor’s son.

His gut rebelled at the thought. How the fuck was he going to win her back if she was distracting herself with someone else?

Jay stoked the fire a little harder than he should have and watched the floating embers glow brightly then disappear as they rose toward the flue. On a sigh, he rocked onto his heels. It was an apropos depiction of his relationship with Blayne.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

Fucking asshole, that’s what he was.

No woman in her right mind would go back to a man who abandoned her. But was it wrong of him to hope she was a little warped when it came to him? At least as warped as he was when it came to her?

No such luck. She was as sharp as ever.

And as of last night, apparently, dating the doctor’s son. Screwing him anyway.

He’d break his jaw if he gritted his teeth any harder.

He pushed up from his squatted position, moving from window to window around the living space to let in the ocean breeze. It was the first of May. The spray off the ocean was fresh but the air cool, so the fire was perfect.

“Jamie?” Blayne’s voice carried up the stairs from the front door, taking him back to all the times he’d heard the very same when they’d lived together. He’d get them there again. He’d never lost a deal and he wasn’t about to now.

“Up here.” He grabbed two glasses from the cupboard then carried them over to the coffee table by the fire. He was determined to play the good host and keep his rage to himself.

The woman of his dreams appeared at the top step and breezed into the cozy, round living room of the lighthouse.

“Wow, it looks great in here.” She moved along the perimeter, trailing her fingers along the back of the curved, gray sectional couch, and his neck washed with goosebumps as if she’d caressed him instead. “Larkin and Maxine did great work on the reno.”

He nodded. The lighthouse was built with a large support beam that ran through the center, and the stairs spiraled up along the outer wall. Each level was round and incrementally smaller up to the lamp. “Ryker’s idea to rent the place out was a brilliant one. Thanks to a cancellation, it was free. This place has been completely booked since they opened it.”

She let her bag slide to the floor by the coffee table. “Whitewashing the brick was a great idea. It really opens the space up, and the grays and caramels are so soothing.”

Jay studied her as she glanced from the large-leafed, green plants flanking the fireplace to the sofa and floor pillows. She wasn’t wrong, the room was comfortable and inviting, but she’d never been one for small talk. Blayne MacCaffrey was in avoidance mode.

The muscles in his neck tightened as an image of her and Max Stanton popped unwelcomed into his head. Sonofabitch. He slammed the bottle of wine harder than he’d intended on the counter, and she jumped.

“Want a glass of wine? We can get started. I’d hate to keep you if you have another date on the books.” He’d told himself repeatedly not to bring it up, but the thought of her with someone else pushed the words from his mouth.

Slipping her feet from her sandals she lowered onto a floor pillow by the coffee table, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn. “I’m so tired, I couldn’t handle another late night, so no worries.”

His jaw muscles worked through her words while he pretended to be distracted by the antipasti plate he’d brought home from Dine on the Vine. Her red-painted toes peeped out from the edge of her navy skinny pants. Her top was a checkered navy and white and tied at her waist with a sliver of silky smooth skin teasing him every time she retrieved papers from her bag and placed them on the table. The whole look was set off by her black hair smoothed back in a slick, high ponytail that she knew damn well drove him crazy.

She did it on purpose.

He tossed an almond into his mouth, crunching down with much more effort than was necessary. Carrying the plate into the living room, he set it between them as he lowered to the floor pillow across from her. “Glad to know you’ll be able to focus so we can actually get some work done.”

“Because you’re the master at getting things done, is that it?” She popped an olive between her pouty red lips, staring at him in question.

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Why did it feel like she was constantly challenging him?

She shoved a stack of papers across the table. “Well, I already have the bylaws ready to go. You’ll find the document in the center’s cloud share as well. How’s that for getting things done?”

He eyed the stack of papers with growing frustration. “We are supposed to work on this together. If Ryker wanted you to do this alone, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, that would be preferable.” She used a toothpick to stab a chunk of mozzarella drizzled with balsamic vinegar as if she wished it were him. “Besides, this isn’t just about Ryker. The center is Larkin’s dream.”

“Yeah, a dream she built on another man’s land if I understand it correctly.”

Her arched brows snapped together. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Knock it off. You don’t get to come up here and throw your bylaws around, rub your date in my face, and then act like I’m committing a crime by stating the truth about the conservation center.”

“Larkin wants to do great things for this community.”

The edge in her voice served as a warning, but he was having a hard time giving a fuck.

Pull yourself together, man.

If there was any hope of finding a way to work together, he had to move them past this bickering shit they always seemed to fall into and show her that what still lay between them was everything…

Leaving her defense of Larkin alone, he scanned the documents. They were thorough, well-crafted, and clean, but they lacked the donor program component, which would be the sustaining force behind keeping the center in business.

“They look good.”

“They’re perfect,” she snapped.

He slapped them on the table. “Stop. They’re good. They aren’t perfect. Which is why we’re being tasked to work together. Clearly, you’ve done your homework, but these papers still lack the appropriate information about the donor program, and there are a few things we should discuss to ensure Larkin’s initial vision remains intact. Especially who we place in the final decision-making positions.”

She held his gaze in some sort of silent struggle that he could admit he was glad to be left out of. The woman could exhaust a marathon runner with that mouth of hers. “Fine. But I get the final say.”

Waves crashed against the rocks below, filling the silence with the rhythm of the ocean. A small breeze carried her scent along with it, permeating his senses and clearly confusing the shit out of his decision-making, because the next words out of his mouth seemed riskier than a hike in January.

“Fine. Beat me at poker, and once we work through each section, you get the final say. But if I win, the final say is mine.”

“Poker?” She raised a brow.

They used to play poker all the time. But not just any kind of poker, the best kind of poker where his opponent was a sexy-as-sin woman with a smart mouth, sharp wit, and very few clothes. They’d rarely made it through a whole game.

Suddenly, the room seemed much hotter. Either May had arrived warmer than usual or he’d just entered his own private kind of hell.

A suspiciously arrogant curve lifted the corners of her lips. “Fine.”

He opened his laptop and the document file she’d shared. “You’ll find cards in the drawer in the end table behind you. You deal, and I’ll open the first section. We’ll work through each while we play.”

“And the stakes are the final say?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“You’re on. But we’re playing strip.”

Jay’s heart slammed in his chest as he considered her demand. What was her end game? It didn’t make sense for her to throw strip poker on the table, but the woman never did anything without purpose. All the warning bells in the world went off at once in his head. But the chance to get a glimpse of her skin after all this time proved to be his downfall.

The whole point of the night was for them to find a way to move beyond their past and work together. Seeing her half-naked while they did it seemed more of a gift than the challenge she made it appear to be.

His body tightened in anticipation.

He’d always loved a good challenge.

“Deal.”

* * *

Blayne held her breath waiting for Jamie to agree to her terms.

Every second with him made her heartache and her body burn. Good thing she was able to separate the two because she wouldn’t trust him with her love again for lifetime airfare back and forth to Ireland.

Some might say she was playing with fire, but really, she was playing to win and protect her heart. Distracting him was her foolproof plan to make sure the bylaws ended up the way they needed to be and not just the way he wanted. She hoped keeping him on the defensive might keep him too busy to pursue her…them. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to resist.

“But if I win, you have to admit you feel what’s still between us.”

“I don’t.” Her return was swift and followed by a hiccup.

The memory of how it felt to watch him walk away, powerless to stop him, terrified her.

She resented his presence in the first place. After all this time, he returned declaring he wanted them to be together? She had waited for months, hoping he’d miss her as much as she missed him, hoping he’d realize he’d made a mistake and come home.

She would have welcomed him home with open arms.

But he never did. His family name and his career had been more important.

She’d been a fool for loving him, and worse still, a deserter for leaving Ireland. With her heart open and earnest, she’d given him everything and had been left with nothing.

It was time to take back some power and move forward with this project the way she’d envisioned from the beginning.

“I’ll get the cards.” She held his gaze, refusing to look away first.

Larkin trusted her to make sure the conservation community center would carry out its mission and run as smoothly as possible, and she was not about to let her down.

She dealt the hand while he read through the first section that stated the company name, purpose, and location. She’d always loved his voice. It slid along her skin like soft velvet and continued to linger long after he stopped talking, leaving a wash of goosebumps behind.

This game might be a bit more dangerous than she’d imagined.

Thinking through her ideas had never been her strong point. Something she and Maxine had in common. How many times had she and Larkin talked the woman out of some crazy scheme or another? Maxine resisted society’s proper plan for ladies of a certain age. She had her own plan. And that was to do whatever the hell she liked.

Blayne loved her for it and hoped to follow in her well-formed footsteps.

Starting with strip poker with a super sexy man she’d never been able to get out of her head and still dreamed of having in her bed. She wanted him ten years on, there was no denying it, but she couldn’t subject herself to that kind of pain again.

Jamie finished with the description and paused. “This is going to be pretty great for the town.” His voice was soft and full of appreciation as he studied the document.

Damn it. Sincerity was a damn sexy accessory. Heat spread across her chest. She hadn’t counted on how his appreciation for the project would affect her resolve to resist him. Shifting on her pillow, she arranged her cards to get a better look at her cards and strategize.

She was already ahead, letting Jamie think she’d been out late with Max. Though it was petty, it was quite fun to see her ex struggle with what he wanted to say and what he let himself say as far as how she’d spent her evening. Holding back had never been his strong point. In bed that characteristic was a hard-placed plus, but in arguments it was annoying and always pissed her off.

Her whole ice sculpture festival-Max Stanton plan had been a failure from the start. They’d chatted nicely enough, and she’d caught up with Dr. Stanton, but it was evident that if she wanted to maintain positive community relations she had to back away. The Dawson triplets made it abundantly clear that Max was spoken for. The question was, by which sister?

That was going to be a whole different kind of problem.

“Alright, woman. Put your money where your mouth is,” Jamie taunted as he laid out a full house.

She stuck out her lower lip in a pout for a second, then grinned as she slapped a four of a kind down on the table. “Sucker.”

She leaned against a chair. “What’s it going to be, sweet cheeks?”

The look on his gorgeous face was worth every bump and bruise she’d received since he’d walked back into town.

Winning sure did feel good.

Jamie nodded in good humor. “Alright. I see how this is going to go.” But instead of removing a sock as she expected, he pulled his long-sleeved t-shirt over his head.

Oh shit.

His muscles flexed.

Her heart stopped.

And her body hummed with every inch of delicious, golden skin exposed. He’d always been a fine specimen, but over the years he’d grown absolutely succulent. Thick and wide with more muscle than she would know what to do with. They flexed in response.

She swallowed hard and forced her voice to resist the tremble that tickled her vocal cords. “Your deal.”

Jamie shuffled the cards. “You okay?”

“Of course.” Hiccup.

“What was that?” He asked with an innocent look that was anything but. That was the problem dealing with an ex. There was a good chance he already knew every secret.

She waved at him. “Let’s go, Ass-tor.” Swallowing down the giggle that bubbled up, she turned his laptop and read through the members section of the bylaws.

“These are good, but we have to include the director of the donor program as well as a corporate relations manager.” He rummaged through his leather portfolio until he produced a few sheets. “Here are job descriptions to help give you an idea of what their responsibilities will look like. I’ve made notes in the margins customized for the center.”

She maintained eye contact, but her periphery was busy taking in his broad, muscular chest, the dark stamps of his perfectly-shaped man nipples, and the mounds of his shoulders rising like Mount Katahdin.

“Fine. I’ll look at it.” She grabbed her cards, keeping her fingers crossed for a royal flush. If she could keep her damn eyes from straying to his bare torso every five seconds she’d be more than thankful. At this rate, she was worse than a starry-eyed schoolgirl ogling her first crush.

“What’ll it be, MacCaffrey?” The arrogant tilt to his lips did not bode well for her modesty.

He slapped his cards down. Straight flush.

Shit.

He rose one brow…slowly, and her stomach quivered with the suggestive gesture.

With a sigh of resignation, she considered her options. Too bad she already slipped off her shoes. That would have covered two losses.

She braced herself. Hell no. No more losses.

Pushing to her feet, she unzipped her skinny pants, shooting Jamie a warning look. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

He pressed his lips together as she pushed the fabric down her thighs.

“Comfortable is not the word I’d use.” Clearing his throat, he shoved the cards across the table. “You’re up.”

Seeing him squirm was incredibly satisfying. And wasn’t that the point?

They went over the board of directors and committees, and she threw her hand on purpose. She’d get him completely distracted then take the game right out from under that sweet, hard ass of his.

Next to go was her checkered top. His eyes landed hungrily on her chest as she exposed her pink bra one button slide at a time. She let her shirt fall to the floor and hesitated, giving him a good view of what he’d walked away from ten years ago. Her pink bra topped a pair of hip hugger panties. Years of skating gave her a core to die for, and she was never more thankful than this very moment.

“Are you going to deal or what?” she quipped. Forcing her tone to remain neutral, every second reminded her of all the things she’d missed about him. How safe she’d felt; how easy it had been to follow him across an ocean. How much she’d loved him. Truly loved him.

His eyes were taking in every square inch of her with such intensity that she had to look down to make sure she wasn’t naked. Taking advantage of his preoccupation, she grabbed a card and slid it into the band of her undies at her low back.

Cheating may not be respectable, but all was fair in bylaw war.

She held back a grin and snapped her fingers. “Jamie.”

With a jerk, he swallowed hard. “Yeah?” He coughed. “Oh, yeah.”

He appeared confused and, for a brief moment, the innocent look on his face reminded her of the deep, burning love she’d never really gotten over. With a vicious surge of self-control, she strengthened her resolve against her one weakness.

James Alexander Wilmington Astor III.

Now was the time to slam down the hammer.

Arranging her cards, she prepared for her big win. The bylaws were hers. The control was hers. It was time to put Mr. Astor in his place.

She lengthened one long, toned leg, turning it to put her tattoo in clear view, and flexed her foot. Jamie followed the intended target, tracing her ink with his eyes, as predicted, and she slowly slid her hand behind her back to retrieve her card.

His attention snapped away from her long-limbed temptation and landed on her with suspicion. “What’re you doing?”

She froze. “What? Nothing. I had an itch.”

Gray eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, trying to see behind her.

“Seriously, Jamie. Knock it off.” Her pulse raced as he raised to his jean-clad knees, his abs rippling with the movement.

“What’re you hiding behind your back?”

“Nothing.”

“Blayne.” He crawled slowly around the table, his muscles bulging with each advance.

She swallowed hard, the crackling fireplace and crashing waves a backdrop warning her of the dangerous position she was in.

Desperate to keep him at a distance, she threw her hands up. “Stop.” She really couldn’t trust herself if he got to close.

His biceps flexed with each move toward her, and her mouth went dry.

Crossing her arms, she tried to distract him by pushing her cleavage together. He didn’t bite.

Shit. The card began to stick to the skin of her lower back as she broke into a cold sweat. Jamie couldn’t find out she’d been cheating; he’d never let her live it down. Trying her best to keep her cool, she straightened her leg until the ball of her foot met the firm and warm skin of his naked chest.

“Show me what you’re hiding, woman.” His low growl sent a shiver of need through her body.

Panic raised the pitch in her voice to a squeak. “There’s nothing to show!”

In one fluid movement, he pushed her leg to the side and lunged. Hot, heavy man-body along with ten years of repressed orgasmic memories pressed her into the floor, and a swirling starburst of sensations shot out from her center.

“Let me see,” Jamie demanded with the rumble of a chuckle.

“No!” She shoved the card farther down her underwear, hoping he wouldn’t go foraging for it, then wrestled to get him off her. Not because she wanted him to move away but because she wanted him to stay.

God help her crazy-ass heart.

They struggled for control. He tried to roll her over, but she held him in a vice-like grip with her legs.

“Good God, Bean, you’re strong.” He gasped with effort.

“Damn straight.” She applied pressure in just a way that had him rolling with her on top until, finally, she straddled his waist in victory. She almost shot her fist up to celebrate her win.

But the undeniable evidence of his own arousal pressed hard against her.

She froze.

Then dropped her forehead to his. It would be so easy to give in, to get him out of her system once and for all.

His breathing was heavy and mixed with hers in a torrent of lush red wine and heady lust. His lips parted. Hers inched closer, hovering, promising…

“Ahh ha!” Warm fingers slid the card from the beneath the edge of her panties, then held it high in the air above their heads. “You cheated!” His look of shock would have been hilarious if it didn’t mean she just lost by default.

Her control, her plans were slipping away like the tides of the Atlantic.

And she almost just kissed the one man with the power to break her.

Again.