Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(75)

“A challenge?” She shook her head. It caused the long swoop of her bangs to fall across one delicately arched brow. “Nah. It’s just a fact.”

“Care to prove it?” he taunted.

“Hit me with your best shot, big boy,” she taunted right back, scooting a bit closer. She smelled fruity, like pears or something equally feminine and delicious. One sniff and all his internal gadgets went haywire.

Somehow he managed to ignore the upheaval in his body and came back with, “I thought we were playing Name That Movie not Name That Tune, Pat Benatar.”

“Stalling?” Now she was smirking. And she looked sort of…devilish. He liked it.

Racking his brain for a good one, he was eager to put her to the test. Aha! “Okay, so James Dean plays Cal Trask who’s unhappy with just about everything in his life, including his relationship with—”

“East of Eden,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “I expected so much more from you. I mean, it’s James Dean, for the love of two-steppin’. The man’s a legend among women. Show me someone with ovaries who hasn’t seen everything he’s ever played in.”

He stuck his tongue in his cheek, narrowing his eyes. Obviously, he’d underestimated her. Now he was attempting to take her measure.

She waited a beat. Then two, before impatiently asking, “So that’s it? One piddle-O volley and suddenly you’re—”

He didn’t let her finish. “Naomi Watts plays an amnesiac who searches for clues to—”

“Mulholland Drive.” She shook her head as if he were pitiful. Just pitiful. “And, really, that one is not director David Lynch’s best.”

“What?” he blurted, getting into it and, astonishingly, enjoying himself. His bad mood vanished like mist hit by the heat of her wit. “And I suppose you think Lost Highway was?”

“Sure enough.”

“Ha! I’m sorry. But there’s no comparison between Bill Pullman’s performance and Naomi Watts’s performance. She blew the roof off that role.”

“Says you.” She shrugged a shoulder. “But maybe that’s because you’re a guy, and Naomi Watts is a hot blond. Oh, and also because it’s now clear you’re an idiot.”

The twinkle in her eyes and the way she was fighting a smile told him she was having as much fun as he was.

“In case you weren’t aware,” he informed her haughtily, “idiots are a barrel of laughs and super cool to hang around. That’s why they’re the rage in all the villages.”

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. She barked out a laugh. And then they stood grinning openly at each other, caught up in the game and the banter.

“I’ve got one for you,” she said after a bit, the tilt of her head decidedly feline, like that of a cat watching a mouse’s nose protrude from a hole. “But fair warnin’, this one’s a doozy. If you get it, I’ll…” She trailed off.

He was suddenly breathless. “You’ll what?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, laughing. “I have no idea what kind of boon to give a guy who’s basically a big question mark.”

How about a kiss? Okay, this was getting out of control. He was pretty much a hornball 24/7, but…wow. Just wow. “How about…” He tapped his chin. “If I win, then you hafta tell me the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.” For some odd reason, he wanted to know more about her.

“And if I win?” she asked, reaching toward her hair as if to push it behind her ear. Her fingers faltered when she discovered there was nothing to tuck back. New haircut, apparently. A pretty daring one at that. And, damnit, he liked that too.

“I tell you the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Deal.” She stuck out her hand. He hesitated to take it. And when he finally did, he realized why. Her palm was baby soft, her hand tiny compared to his, and his dirty mind immediately conjured up an image of what her fingers would look like wrapped around his dick. Said dick twitched to life. Oh great. That’s just great.

“So, Alan Ladd stars as a Naval gunnery officer durin’ World War II,” she began. “But here’s the thing. He’s a pacifist. And he refuses to fire on an unidentified plane. Of course, when this gets out to the others in his unit, they label him yellow-bellied, a guy they can’t depend on. Turns out the plane was one of their own, but that doesn’t really change anything. The whole movie is about the conflict between conscience and duty. Name that film.”

Oh, fangul. It was right there. On the tip of his tongue and the edge of his brain. “Who directed it?” he asked.

“Are we allowed to give clues?” She was smirking, sure she’d won.

“Since we never officially stated the rules, then yeah.”

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think that’s…”

“Aha!” He pointed at her face. “It’s because you don’t know who directed it. And you said you could name every film, the leads, the director, and usually the—”

“Rudolph Maté,” she said. He grinned gleefully. “Hey! You tricked me!”

“Maybe,” he admitted with an exaggerated shrug. “But regardless, I now know what the movie is. Drumroll, please.”