Beatrice danced around him, more sprite than Venus. Her dress was a tribute to summer, the lightest lawn with an underskirt of pale yellow that made her look like she was as much a part of the garden as the flowering shrubs along the edge of the grass. “Then you have no imagination, Beatrice.” Jess folded his arms and waited until she stopped fluttering around him. “It demonstrates my ability to provide gaming fun no matter what the situation, age, or means of the participants. I can corrupt anyone.” She made a face at him as if she disagreed but was afraid to say so. Today he had to do it. Garrett was right. He had to show her how dangerous flirting with a man could be. “You are the first to know this.” Jess leaned closer for a conspiratorial whisper. It was all he could do not to nip the tender part of her neck where she had dabbed the sensuous perfume she favored. “We will be racing chickens instead of rabbits.” “Why the change?” She shivered and he did not think it was because she was chilled.
