So she pulled back, eyeing J.D. across the candlelit table. “Perhaps. But for now maybe you should start by buying me a drink.”

“That’s awfully retro for you, isn’t it?”

“Can’t I be old-fashioned, too?” she asked. Even if she knew what she wanted, that didn’t mean the games had to be over. Yet. After all, they had at least two hours to kill and she needed something to distract her through dinner.

But J.D. was on to her. He leaned back in his chair. “So, this is how you want to play this.”

“Hmm . . . disappointed?”

With a smile of amusement, J.D. shook his head. “Not at all. Just remember, Payton, two can play at that.”

More smoky blue eyes.

Damn. She really needed to devise a countermove to scorching hot sex looks.

But until she did, Payton planned to savor every moment of the possibilities that lay ahead.

“WHAT DO YOU say, Jameson? Another Scotch? Come on, Payton, you don’t seem like the type of girl who’d let a man outdrink her.”

Jasper was in rare form that evening.

J.D. watched in amazement as the CEO flagged down their waiter and ordered another round. He’d forgotten how much these good old Southern boys could drink. And Jasper—apparently oblivious to the fact that everyone else at the table still had untouched drinks from the previous two turns at “how ’bout another?”—showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

Richard Firestone, Gibson’s Drug Stores’ new general counsel and one of those—to put it delicately—tight-ass-style lawyers who gave all the others a bad name, leaned in his chair toward Jasper. “Don’t say ‘girl,’ ” he whispered under his breath.

“What’s that?” Jasper asked loudly.

Richard glanced in Payton’s direction. “ ‘You don’t seem like the type of woman who’d let a man outdrink her,’ ” he corrected Jasper’s phrasing. “We don’t say ‘girl’ anymore.”

“You know what I say about all this political correctness these days? It’s a load of steamin’ bull crap.” Jasper waved his glass around as he peered across the table. “Payton, you’re my discrimination expert—can I still say ‘girl’?”

“You can say anything you want to your lawyers, Jasper.”

“Ha! See—you boys are too uptight.” Jasper pointed at Richard and J.D. “And notice I said boys,” he emphasized proudly, “lest anyone ever accuse me—or my company—of being unequal in opportunity.” He polished off his whiskey on the rocks in one gulp and slammed down the glass with indignant emphasis. Then he glanced around the table. “Okay—so I guess this is as good a time as any—should we get down to business? Talk about this little case of ours?”

J.D. bit his tongue and fought the urge to check his watch. Now Jasper wanted to talk about the case? That wasn’t a discussion they could’ve started, say, two courses ago?

He stole a quick glance at Payton, who sat to his left. She either had the best poker face he’d ever seen, or she was awfully damn nonchalant at the f**king tortoise speed with which this dinner was moving, because she actually appeared quite amused by Jasper’s antics. And that, come to think of it, was beginning to piss him off, too. He’d told her earlier that two could play at her game, and indeed for the first two courses of their dinner he’d been as cool as she. But the truth of the matter was, he just wanted to be alone with her. Frankly, he was fed up with all the things that constantly came between them, like work and Chase Bellamy and client dinners. And clothes.

J.D. watched as Payton nodded along while Richard launched into his introductory take on their litigation strategy. Fine. Whatever. If she saw no pressing reason to hurry things along, then neither did he.

“. . . So what I’m thinking,” Richard was saying, “is that I’d like each of you to give me a short overview on how you plan to approach your part of the defense. Payton, since Jasper pointed out that you’re the discrimination expert, why don’t you start—tell me your thoughts on how we should attack the substantive issues presented in this case.”

“Sure, Richard, I’d be happy to,” Payton agreed. Then she chuckled. “You know, I can be a bit long-winded once I get going. I think I see our waiter coming—why don’t we go ahead and order dessert now? Get that out of the way.”

J.D. suddenly felt Payton’s hand rest on his thigh underneath the table.

Interesting.

The waiter set dessert menus down in front of everyone. With her free hand, Payton picked up her menu and casually looked it over. “Now what am I in the mood for?”

She began lightly stroking her finger along J.D.’s thigh.

Very interesting.

“Come on now, Payton—this is Florida. Y’all have to try the key lime pie,” Jasper declared. He took the liberty of ordering for all of them, and the waiter scooted off.

“In fact,” Jasper said, “did you know that just last year, key lime pie was named our official state pie?”

Payton’s fingers moved higher on J.D.’s thigh, now approaching Semi-Naughty territory. Two more inches and they would be officially within the limits of Outright Naughty.

“I didn’t know that, Jasper,” Payton said, never breaking stride. “In fact, I didn’t know that states even had official pies. Did you know that, J.D.?”