The Mad British Read Online Free PDF Page A

knows the truth.
    "You'll just have to take your chances," I murmur, my eyes darting from James to the dealer.
    He shakes his head, smiling as our cards are dealt. My heart rate begins to steady when James doesn’t call me out, doesn’t make a big spectacle of it all. The men I had just swindled out of their money wouldn’t be so apt to let it go.
    "Hmmm," he mumbles, looking down at his cards.
    I take a sneak glance at James, trying to read him, but I know so little about him that it’s difficult. Not to mention it’s easy to get lost in the cut of his jawline, the intensity of his eyes, and the way his full lips twitch upward while he contemplates his next move. His shoulders tense, but he quickly relaxes, settling back in his chair as he meets the dealer's eye.
    Taking a sneak glance, I begin to wonder if James has any physical flaws. I don’t realise I’m spellbound, getting sucked into the vortex that seems to surround him, until his eyes catch mine. I look away and shift in my seat.
    No, I conclude, he definitely doesn’t have a single physical flaw. Even if one did exist, I’m willing to bet his one flaw would be a perfect flaw.
    "I called," he says, leaning toward me, clearly amused that I was checking him out.
    "Sorry." I rub my hand over my neck. I’ve completely forgotten to inspect my cards.
    Twit.
    I glance at his cards. He has an ace of spades turned upward and the dealer hits him with a four of clubs. I look down at my pitiful ten of hearts.
    Just great. . .
    I glide my fingers over the card, sliding my thumb beneath it. It’s hard not to look amused when I see the jack of diamonds. Looking back at the table, I move to double his bet after motioning to stay. I want to run a victory lap when I hear him sigh beside me.
    Sitting back in my seat I touch my fingertips together. "You sweating over there under that fancy collar of yours?" Now I am the one to wink at him. I am so going to enjoy watching his cocky butt walk away a loser.
    "I don't sweat." He nods to the table when he calls my bet, then nearly triples it. "But I won’t mind seeing you sweat."
    I look down at my cards when the temperature of the room triples. "Too bad you probably never will." I call his bet, but don’t raise it.
    "You said ‘probably’ so I do have a chance." He nods toward my chips. "And you didn’t raise. That's a sure sign of weakness."
    "Or maybe I don't want to feel too guilty when I take your money." I polish off my glass of champagne and hold the glass up toward him. “Just in case you have the urge to steal my drink again. But please, feel free to discard my empty glas—”
    I thump my glass down on the felt when the dealer flips the cards over. "Crap," I mutter, gritting my teeth when the dealer flips over my jack of diamonds and his six of hearts.
    Twenty-one.
    Damn him.
    "Not so cocky, are we now," James taunts, mocking my previous smug tone. "You just never know when the cards are going to turn."
    I toss down my chips to buy in, and refuse to look at him. I can feel his eyes on my face, tracing over my profile, then down over my cleavage.
    I freeze.
    Oh. God.
    Sighing as if I’m bored, I wave the dealer to hit me without even looking at what card he flips over.
    "A true gambler," James remarks, raising his bet. He lowers his voice. "Or rather a true counter."
    "Better than just being a slimy cretin." I tip my head to the side and force out a smile. “Why don’t we quit the chatter and get straight down to business.” I’m determined to do my damnedest to ignore this beautiful bastard. Money will pay the bills. His sexy arse will only land me in trouble.
    “Adelaide, I’d love to get my business straight down in you.”
    Holy Hell. . .
    This man should come with a warning: Not suitable for under eighteens.
    Sliding my thumb under the card I see a two of diamonds, which adds up to seventeen with my other two cards. Great. I’m going to lose again and he is going to bring out the fanfare, his thrown in