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“Oh, yes. And there are viewing rooms so that others might watch the show. Would you like that, love?” he tempted. “Would you like to visit one of those rooms and view others as they find and give pleasure?”

A wicked ache formed between her legs, the pressure deepening as Andrew shifted so that his mouth hovered close to hers. “Here we are!”

As if he’d uttered nothing more than an observation about the weather, he straightened and motioned to the empty table near them.

Dazed, Marcia blinked slowly, certain that everyone had witnessed Andrew holding her close to him. Alas, everyone in the entire room remained focused on their own pleasures.

He put a hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the table. “Here,” he said loudly, pulling out one of the chairs.

Marcia slid into the comfortable leather folds.

In an instant, a serving girl materialized, and Andrew retrieved two flutes of champagne, handing one over to Marcia.

She took the glass from him, and as he seated himself, she did her best to feign nonchalance. He asked for a deck of cards, and the young woman laid one on the table before bustling off to distribute glasses to other patrons.

All the while, Marcia’s heart thumped at the wickedness of being here.

“Well?” Andrew asked. Sitting back in his chair, he reached for the deck of cards, and she was grateful as he shifted away from his earlier naughty talk and on to something as casual as cards. He proceeded to shuffle. “A game of vingt-et-un?”

She nodded. He knew she knew how to play. He’d taught her when she’d been a small girl. Cards were safe.

When he set down the deck, Marcia reached for it, but Andrew covered it with his hand. “You don’t come into a place like Cyprian’s Den and not wager, Marcia,” he murmured in husky tones that sent her heart into a double-time rhythm.

She dampened her mouth. “Wh-what is the wager?” She gave thanks for the volume of the club that muffled somewhat the tremor in her voice.

“I win, and you end this scheme of yours.”

Marcia came crashing back down to reality. He was trying to be free of her. Because, ultimately, be it by her family or her former fiancé or the friend before her, Marcia remained someone who was unwanted. “You needn’t worry,” she said softly. “I’ve decided this is my last night.”

Andrew stilled, his features frozen. “In… deed?” There was a halting quality to that question.

She nodded. Did she merely imagine the glimmer of regret in his eyes?

“A different wager, then,” he said quietly. “Since you’ve agreed to give up your wicked ways, if you win, I’ll have to continue putting in appearances at respectable events for each number of hands you beat me.”

A startled laugh escaped her. “Surely you’d not riskthathorror,” she said, and his laughter joined with hers.

He winked. “I’m confident in my card-playing skills.”

Marcia smoothed her features into a mask of feigned solemnity. “Very well. IfIwin, you shall suffer through visiting polite affairs.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “And what if you win, Andrew?” she teased. “What do you want?”

Or her question had beenmeantto be teasing.

Only, Andrew’s gaze darkened, and his golden lashes slipped lower as his stare dipped. His eyes lingered on her mouth, and she felt a wave of heat burn low in her belly.

He is going to kiss me, and I want it. So very desperately.

“If I win, we leave now.”

Just like that, the promise of his kiss died.

So her assurance that this was the last night was not enough.

“Best three out of five, Marcia.”

Marcia managed a nod. “Very well.” She tapped the table.

Not taking his eyes from her, Andrew dealt a card to Marcia, turning over a ten for her and then revealing a seven for himself.