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"This is your card, right?" Parker flipped it up, and Sophie nodded. "All right, let's try again. Keep your eye on the card."
"You don't want to do that," Alec said, leaning into the conference room. "She's going to switch it on you. I used to have a cousin who did that one with three thimbles and a pea outside the bus terminal —"
Parker, ignoring him, slid the cards around on the table, set them in a row, and waited. Sophie extended one slender hand and tapped the card on the left. Parker flipped it. The Queen of Spades. "You win again," Parker said, grinning.
"Oh, no way," Alec muttered, coming into the room. "There is no way. You —" he pointed an accusatory finger at Parker, "You are playing her."
Parker raised an eyebrow. "You want to try?"
"Do I look stupid to you? Don't answer that."
"Come on," Sophie drawled, "Deal."
Parker flipped the three cards face up, Queen of Spades, Ace of Spades, Ace of Hearts, then back down, the cards sliding back and forth, around and around, her hands crossing. She stopped, finally, looked expectantly across the table at Sophie, who frowned. "I think it's — wait, no, there," she said, making her pick.
It was the Queen of Spades. Again.
Alec shook his head. "You are planning something," he said to the women. "The two of you are planning something and I do not want any part of it. Because you are evil. E-vil."
"We're just having a friendly game of cards," Parker told him, giggling a little. "You can have a turn."
He gave her a skeptical look. "I'm sure I can. What do I lose if I don't get it right?"
Sophie leaned back in her chair. "You shouldn't bet anything. Not at first."
"Those are my kind of stakes." He dropped into the chair next to Sophie and waved his hand. "All right, hit me."
"Wrong game," Parker said, even as she obligingly flipped the cards over. He watched as they passed over and under and over and under one another, and when she finally stopped, he reached out his hand tapped one of the cards.
She flipped it over. Queen of Spades.
"It's really not that hard, once you know what to watch for," Sophie said. "It just takes practice."
"Mmhm," Alec hummed. "I'm sure that's it. Go on, do it again."
"For what stakes?" Sophie asked, carelessly.
"Stakes? What stakes? We are colleagues. We are professionals. We should not be gambling in the conference room."
"That's not what you said during the UCLA game," Parker murmured, the cards flickering through her hands. She arched them up into a bridge, snick snick snick, the little rectangles falling into place, and no sooner had they settled into a pile than she cut the deck and shuffled again, snapping them down one on top of the next with little cracks.
"All right, all right," he said, pulling his eyes off her hands to look over at Sophie, who smiled at him. He knew that smile. Hell yes, they were running something, but he wasn't sure he minded. "What are you betting?"
"Lunch," Sophie answered. "At the moment, I'm up two chef salads."
"Fine, fine. I'll take it."
Parker went through the routine again, cards back and forth and back and forth and stopping, finally, with three red card backs facing up. He tapped the one on the left. She reached out, picked up the center card, and with one deft move used it to flip over the card he'd picked.
Ace of hearts.
"Y'all have played me," he said, half laughing. "I should have known better."
"I'll have mine with the dressing on the side," Sophie said promptly.
"I want the mandarin chicken," Parker told him, grinning as she scooped the cards up and high-fived Sophie. "Nate?" she called, as he passed the open doorway, "You have a lunch order?"
"Why?" he asked, "Someone going downstairs?"
"I am, apparently," Alec said. "I have been — persuaded."
"Uh-huh," Nate said, doubtfully, taking in the deck that Parker was fitting back in its box. "I'll have a ham sandwich. And Sophie, I'm going to need you in here to meet with a potential client in —" he checked his watch, "about twenty minutes, so eat briskly, all right?"
He disappeared down the hallway, oblivious to Sophie's glare.
"So, that's one chef salad, dressing on the side," Alec said, "a mandarin chicken, a ham sandwich with extra attitude for the boss-man, and whatever I decide is sufficient to meet my manly needs."
"And a tuna fish," came Eliot's voice, floating up the hallway from his office.
"And a tuna fish. With extra lemon?"
"Damn straight! And the organic mesculun on the side this time, not fries."
"Right," Alec said, resignedly, though he couldn't keep one corner of his mouth from twitching up. "You going to help me carry all that up here?" he asked Parker. She didn't answer, just fell into step beside him.
He waited until the elevator doors had closed to goose her. She squealed and laughed at him, and he grinned back. Ridiculous woman. Like he didn't know a Mexican turnover when he saw one.