Reese shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the counter. He didn’t really give a damn what they did—just having her close gave him comfort. Distracted him from his big problems.

“There’s a long bench in the back room. I can bring it out here,” he offered.

“Perfect,” she said. “There are a few stools behind the counter, too. Even ottomans will serve my purposes.”

Reese desperately wanted to know what she planned to do there but couldn’t risk asking without violating the rules she’d laid out only minutes before. So he rolled up his shirtsleeves and brought every seat he could find to the center of the shop’s front room, moving each one according to her directions. The only chair she didn’t want him to move was the one in the back room where he’d slept last week.

When they were finished, the hodgepodge of chairs, benches, stools, and even overturned crates formed a large, neat oval that could seat at least a couple dozen people.

“It’s a fine start,” Sophie mused, slowly turning in the center of the circle like a dancer on a dais. “Thank you for your help.”

“My pleasure,” he said, surprised that he meant it.

“I brought more tea,” she said, gesturing toward her reticule. “Would you like me to prepare some?”

He thought about it for two seconds and decided he’d rather expire from lack of sleep than have her treat him like a feeble curmudgeon. “Thank you, but I think I’ll stick with brandy for now.”

She looked suddenly self-conscious. Almost nervous. “It’s late, and I happen to know you’re in need of rest. Perhaps we should go to the back room and see if we can make you comfortable.”

Good God. He didn’t want a nursemaid. In fairness to Sophie, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. “Are you tired?” he asked. “You’re welcome to curl up in the chair back there. I can stay out here, so you’ll have some privacy.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sleepy. Maybe if we play cards for a while our eyelids will grow heavy.”

Reese took a deck of cards out of the side table’s small drawer and loosely shuffled them in his palms. “Shall I bring a larger table out here?”

Sophie grabbed a few cushions off the chairs and threw them onto the carpet in the center of the circle. “No need. We can play on the floor.”

“Vingt-et-un?” he asked, sinking onto a cushion across from her.

“As long as you don’t mind losing.” There it was again. That sensual, slightly suggestive lilt to her voice. The one that made him feel like he’d just taken his first shot of whiskey.

He propped himself on one elbow and dealt the cards. “Care to make a wager, Miss Kendall?”