True, but it was a state he had no control over in her presence. He liked everything about Florence, from her angelic looks and heart-stopping smile to her quick wit and sharp mind. She was passionate and fearless in bed. He held nothing back from her—a first for him. With others, he’d been afraid of scaring his partners, of being too demanding. Florence made him burn, so hot that he lost himself in the moment. And she didn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite, in fact.

So would she hate him when she learned of what he’d done?

She couldn’t blame him, could she? After all, he’d warned her. Jack had begged him to call off the plans for the Seventy-Ninth Street casino, but Clay would not be deterred. His revenge against Duncan was twenty years in the making. A few blissful weeks in bed with Duncan’s daughter could not change that.

He wouldn’t allow it.

Besides, nothing good lasted long, especially something this good. All he could do was bide his time and enjoy each second with her. Wring every sigh and moan out of her body until it came crashing down and she despised him. To that end, he glanced at the clock. Soon. He would have her in bed, naked, very, very soon.

Christ, he could hardly wait.

“Have you found the error?” he asked, ready to move tonight’s lesson along.

“I think so.” She lifted her head and blinked at him. As it nearly always did, her beauty struck him like a blow to the chest. Perfect features, slashing brows, full lips. He could stare at her for hours and never tire of it.

“Show me.” He leaned over to see her work. He’d presented her with a recent problem in one of his poolrooms downtown. A puzzle he wished to see if she could solve.

She pointed at her notes. “This one location consistently has a lower revenue on Tuesday night races, when the other locations have a higher revenue that night. Tuesday is one of Sheepshead Bay’s most popular days. Therefore, what is happening in this one location that no one is betting on Tuesdays?”

This woman. Damn, she was exceptional.

“You’re right. So where do we begin to investigate the problem?”

“I assume they call the Tuesday night races in this poolroom.”

“They do.”

“The patrons could have a reason to avoid betting on races from that track, I suppose.”

“Perhaps, but not over a long period of time. The crowd varies too much for that. What else?”

“Someone is skimming.”

His mouth hitched in satisfaction. “All right. Who?”

“The owner?”

“Unlikely. He has the most to lose, if discovered. He knows me well enough to understand what happens if he’s caught. Let’s assume it’s not him.” Clay already knew the answer but he wanted to see if Florence could get there on her own.