Dane slammed his empty shot glass onto the bar.

"This is getting ridiculous. Just go talk to her."

Dana finished the shot and added the empty glass to the small pyramid he was building. He didn't respond. Vivid green eyes slid to the mirror behind the bar.

His attention was riveted on the goddess at the pool table. She flipped a river of braids, twinkling with shells and wooden accents over one shoulder. Generous breasts pressed up as she leaned over to line up and sink her shot in one smooth motion.

Gold bangle earrings flashed, lighting up her deep mahogany skin like miniature fireworks.

Dana took a deep breath. He was entranced. He dragged Dane to this bar every weekend for the last two months to watch her work the tables. She was skilled, sassy, and sexy. Always in control.

She never lost and Dana couldn't count how many men challenged her. They kept coming back but it wasn't anger or the sting of losing to a woman.

It was the woman.

Dane finished another shot, shuffling the empty glasses around to start building his own pyramid. "If you don't make a move, I will."

Dana's sharp green eyes snapped to Dane's. It was like looking in a mirror. Dane's thick dark red hair fell just above his shoulders, while Dana's was shorter, just brushing his collar. Their coloring was startling, with light toffee-toned skin instead of the pale skin and freckles most people associated with red hair.

"You wouldn't."

Of course, he would, and Dana damn well knew it. Not that he did it before, but his twin was a man of his word. Neither of them was known to bluff.

"We have similar taste in women," Dane smirked.

And damn, they did. Dana fondly recalled the cousins they took to senior prom. Both were petite and curvy mocha-skinned goddesses.

"She's just our type," Dane added, licking his lips suggestively.

"You're not playing fair."

Dane put a roll of quarters on the bar. "Challenge her to a game. Bet a drink, loser buys. Then lose."

A slow smile curved Dana's lip. "And then?"

"Bet her a date, a small one. Lunch." Dane slammed another shot and added the glass to his pyramid. "Then lose."

"Then bet another date." Dana shook his head. "She'll never fall for it."

"Then," Dane laid an arm over his twin's shoulders, "bet dinner, dancing, the whole tamale. And win."

"She's a hustler. She'll never let me get that far."

"She will. She wants to." Dane aimed a pointed look at the mirror and Dana followed.

The dark-skinned goddess was peering into the mirror. Her bright hazel eyes were catlike and wide, dusted with a skillful smoky eye.

And they were locked on Dana.

"She scopes you on the DL every time we're here," Dane revealed, leaving Dana breathless. "She thinks you're with me."

"Ew." That dampened his excitement. Just. Ew.

"I know, right? How obvious is it that we're twins? She wishes you weren't with me, so go show her you're not."

"Okay." Dana took another fortifying shot.

It was a damn shame neither of them could get drunk off the stuff. Not even tipsy. Growing up drinking homebrew had its pros and cons. Add in their unusual anatomy and liquor didn't have a chance.

"I'm going."

Dana tensed, but he didn't get up.

"Go," Dane urged, nudging his shoulder.

He nodded, taking another breath.

Dana barely contained a yelp when Dane shoved him off the stool with an arched brow. Narrowing his eyes, he snatched up the roll of quarters.

***

Vee watched the Tall Redhead in the mirror. She wasn't sure if the object of her clandestine interest was male or female. Whichever, from what Vee could see, s/he was a solid 7 on Vee's Hottie Scale from a distance. A moment later, she spotted modest curves when she turned away from the guy beside her. Not that it mattered, but Vee was even more intrigued knowing her silent admirer appeared to be female, and more interested in her than the guy she was with. She bumped her up to an 8.5.

The Redhead was as tall as the guy who always came in with her, who was also a ginger, incidentally. Unlike many butch chicks, she made no effort to masculinize her body. Nothing was binding the small breasts down. She carried her slender frame with quiet pride, wearing a long-sleeved black button-down open over a dark blue tank top. The black jeans molded her long legs, tucked into suede ankle boots.

The guy with her smiled at Vee through the mirror, and she jerked her gaze away to sink the eight ball.

"Good game, baby," the latest man she beat smiled, brown eyes lingering on her cleavage. He dropped three hundred dollars on the smooth green table. "Maybe you can gimme some tips at my place."

Vee arched a brow, gathering the crisp bills and tucking them securely into The Bank of Bra. "Why would I when I just took your money? Again?"

"Oh baby," he wheedled, "that ain't no thang. I'd pay twice as much to play with you on my table."

"How you affordin' a table? Rent-a-Center?" Vee shot back, drawing laughter from the spectators. "Go'n boy. Bullshit walks."

"Can I get next?"

Vee felt a shot of pure awareness at the velvety voice behind her. She peered over her shoulder and had to blink a few times to keep herself from squealing.

It was The Redhead. She (he?...whatever) was lining up quarters on the table, claiming every slot.

"I don't play for fun," Vee warned. The words were automatic, something she said to anyone who challenged her.

It was a good thing since her brain was somewhat occupied by the vibrant green of her admirer's eyes.

"Yeah, I noticed."

Damn, that voice. Her face was unadorned except for eyeliner. The understated black lining made her green eyes look wider and brighter, and then she smiled. Vee's nipples took note.

She had dimples, deep, adorable dimples carved into each lean cheek with a master's hand.

Vee was a sucker for dimples.

"So, how about we start easy?"

And accents. The Tall Redhead spoke with a light one, just enough to notice. It was close to Australian but didn't have the twang of a true Aussie. "I don't do easy."

"Okay, Miss Tina." That chuckle was smooth as a fresh Black 'n' Mild, but there was no artifice to it, no game. She was being real, and that was way more attractive. "I was thinking a drink, loser buys."

She couldn't appear too eager. Vee rested the end of her cue on the floor, wrapping her hands around the top and leaning on it slightly. "Rack 'em."

The shallow dip of her head was dignified, even gentlemanly. She gathered the balls and placed them just so in the triangle. Her nails were short and rounded, painted a nice shade of teal with shiny black tips.

Vee watched her, paying attention to the thick layers of curly dark red hair that fell over her eyes while she focused on her task. That 8.5 was inching up to a 9.

"Does your boyfriend wanna play?"

Vee needed to establish the situation 'cause Side Piece wasn't a good look for her. Madea would whup her ass and drag her to church so Pastor could bless the welts.

Those fine lips twitched, and she pulled the triangle away. "He's not my boyfriend. That's Dane. I'm Dana."

"Hm," Vee caught the cue ball she rolled toward her. "He's all up on ya, though." People liked to sidestep the truth. Vee wanted things crystal fucking clear, or this game would be short and not-so-sweet.

The laughter that spilled forth was hearty and full and those brilliant eyes danced.

"That's just Dane," she chuckled.

Vee positioned the cue ball and lined up her break. "Like, from Denmark?"

The crack of the break was always so satisfying, but not as much as the solid thump of balls dropping. Vee sunk one stripe and one solid.

"Whatcha want?" she offered Dana.

"Lady's choice." A loose shrug pushed her moderate bosom up and out.

Vee eyed her up and down. The relaxed posture, one hand loosely steadying her cue stick with the end on the floor, the other casually hooked in a pocket of those snug jeans by a thumb gave off a calm and confident vibe. The bulge at the crotch made Viv hide a smile.

Dana jumped up Vee's scale to 9.49. Confidence was sexy, especially in a chic that embraced her femininity while accepting her masculine tendencies. Something about a butchy babe that loved everybody's tits including her own just did it for Vee.

Now, if The Redhead would come clean about her status with "just Dane", Vee could decide if she was moving on Dana the Redhead or not.

"No not directly from Denmark. Dane is my twin."

Vee missed her shot. Damn. "Really?"

"Really." Dana surveyed the table. "How about we add some fun? Sink a shot and ask a question. Miss and answer one."

"What? Starting now?"

That smile showed up again. It wasn't a flash. More like a slow parting of heavy clouds to reveal a sunrise. "Starting now."

Dana sank the next three shots and stepped back with that courtly nod when she missed.

"Is Dana your real name?"

"Dana LeDeaux." With a twist of those sexy lips, Dana sketched a shallow bow, with a wink.

Dana. Vee finally had a name for The Tall Redhead, and she savored it, then frowned at the table. Dana's last name sounded French, but her accent was far from French.

While Vee considered her next shot, Dana strolled around the table, passing by her with a respectful gap that none of the men she played against allowed her. She had to crack one in the nuts with the heavy end of her cue one night when he repeatedly invaded her space.

She inhaled Dana's scent, not sweet and girly, but woody, light, and citrusy. Masculine. Ish. Her throat went dry, and she missed the next shot.

"Dammit."

Dana's eyes were shining again, but they were kind. "What's your name, pragtige?"

Vee frowned. The odd word didn't sound like any language she was even slightly familiar with. And she was familiar with several. "What did you call me?"

That slow smile blossomed forth again. Dana didn't just smile with her lips. Her eyes, her body, got into it too. "Beautiful."

Pleasure raced from her head to her toes. She blessed her dusky complexion, hoping it hid the sudden flush that heated her skin.

"Vivienne," she said quietly. She resisted the urge to give her full name as Dana did, but it wasn't something Vee normally did. People could get in their feelings when they lost to her. She had to be careful. "Call me Vee."

"Your name comes from the Latin word for life," Dana murmured. "Why would you want to cut that short?"

"V-I-V-I-E-N-N-E. Try spellin' that in Kindergarten," Vee challenged. "And half the time, people say it wrong." She was impressed, though, that Dana appeared to have some interest in word origins. That was a subject near and dear to her own linguistic heart.

Those shoulders shrugged again, and the smile grew rueful. "I didn't have my name till we were twelve, but I see your point."

Vee held her question while Dana took her shot. She missed and Vee arched a brow.

It was an easy shot, lined up perfectly. Dana caught her speculating gaze, and her smile hid nothing,

She didn't care if she was losing, Vee realized. Dana might even be missing on purpose.

"How did you not have a name until you were twelve?" Vee demanded, keeping her suspicions to herself for now.

"You remember that Olympic skier, Picabo Street? Her parents let her choose her name. Our parents did, too."

"So," Vee drew out the word, studying the table. There, easy shot in the side pocket. "You and your twin decided to be Dane and Dana."

"And our sister, Yurika," Dana shook her head. "Nonconformist, that's her."

"Huh." For a split second, when she drew back the cue, Vee considered missing. Before she could decide, muscle memory kicked in and she took the shot. The thunk of the ball sinking left her disappointed.

She wanted Dana to ask her a question.

"How many siblings?"

"Rik, me, and Dane are the youngest of thirteen. Five sets of twin girls, then triplets."

Vee didn't have to consider missing this time. That information floored her. "You're a triplet?"

"Nuh uh, pragtige," Dana chided. "My turn."

"What language is that?" Vee was getting irritated by her inability to understand Dana.

Dana laughed, that full-body, unfettered laugh again. "You really don't get the rules of this game."

Okay, now she was getting irritated. "Fine. Ask."

Dana cleared her throat and gave her a searching look. "Orientation?"

The straightforward query caught her off guard. Vee answered without thinking. "Bi."

Was there relief in Dana's smile?

Vee forgot about it when Dana took and missed her next shot.

"Are you even trying?" she muttered.

"I am. Very hard." That quiet purr made Vee's skin tingle. Even though Vee knew she was soft-packing, the line of thought Dana's words invoked was oh-so-carnal.

She opened her mouth to ask, but Dana arched a brow. Shit. She blew her question. Determined, she sank her next shot. She only had two balls left to Dana's three.

"What language are you speaking?" Vee asked carefully.

"Afrikaans."

"South Africa? Wow."

"I'm intrigued you know that," Dana's green eyes sparkled. Vee never saw eyes sparkle before, but the woman losing so happily to her managed it. "It's not a widely spoken language, like Spanish or French. Most people assume I'm from Australia."

"Your accent is too smooth to be Aussie, and not strong enough to be the primary that you grew up speaking, so you probably weren't born there, or your family is multilingual," Vee murmured, her linguist's skills kicking in full force while she looked for another shot. "Afrikaans combines Dutch and indigenous languages from the area and has Portuguese and Southeast Asian influences."

The admiring light in Dana's smile made her belly flutter and she missed an easy shot.

She couldn't hate it though. Now she got to answer another question.

"Are you a cunning linguist?" Dana teased.

Vee felt her cheeks heat up again. There was a playful and slightly wicked lilt to the question.

She cleared her throat. "Only when truly inspired," she remarked loftily.

"I get that," Dana nodded. Of course, she missed. "Inspiration is the oil that drives my work."

"What do you do?"

Vee found she didn't care as much about the pool game as she did about the questions. She could afford to enjoy herself a little. Plenty of guys gave up their money before Dana challenged her.

"I'm a designer." Dana lifted her arm and pulled her sleeve up to reveal a chunky glittering bracelet. It was studded with semiprecious stones. "Jewelry mostly."

Oh, nice.

"Oh, nice."

Dana arched one of those fine brows. "Your shot, pragtige."

Vee surveyed her remaining shots with a glance. She didn't want the game to end, yet, but she had her rep to think of.

Firming her resolve, she lined up, sank her remaining balls, and then called the eight ball.

"Corner pocket."

"Good game," Dana dipped her head in gracious defeat. "Shall we up the stakes?"

Yes, ma'am!

"You already owe me a drink," Vee replied far more coolly than she felt. "What's on the table?"

"Lunch. And I owe you three answers."

Vee swallowed a squeal while Dana went about racking the balls for another game.

She cleared her throat. "So, you speak Afrikaans, or just know a few words?"

"Grew up speaking it, along with Italian, Greek, Dutch, French, and Arabic. There are a handful of indigenous languages in there, too."

"Arabic?"

Those green eyes smiled at her briefly before focusing on the rack. "Before we were born, our family lived in Egypt for a while. Mamma has family friends there, and we visited often growing up. Pappa believes to live in a society respectfully, one must at least attempt to speak the native language. So, we learned."

The balls were ready to break, and Dana stood expectantly, loosely gripping her cue.

"Orientation?"

Soft laughter rippled across Vee's ears, leaving pleasure in its wake. "Very bi, pragtige. Now break."

"Hey, I had three!"

"And you asked three. Sink another one to ask more."

Vee eyed the slender woman, her relaxed stance, leaning on the corner of the table. Dana's attention was focused on her, not the table. Those sharp eyes watched her every move. Vee was certain they missed nothing.

Did she want to rise to the challenge she saw there?

Hell yes.

Vee's break sunk two solid and one striped ball.

"Your call," she told Dana.

"I'll take stripes," Dana chose instantly.

"Are you trying to lose?" Vee was flabbergasted. As much fun as she was having, she couldn't fathom wanting to lose.

Dana's lips pursed into a wry smile. "I'm playing the long game."

"What does that even mean?" Vee laughed, but she was madly intrigued.

"A loss now would give me an advantage I wouldn't gain with a win," Dana explained.

"We're not even betting money!" Vee cried.

Vee knew her game, and she could easily spot another skilled player. Dana's stance and the easy way she lined up and took her shots screamed experience and a much higher level of ability than she was seeing.

Watching Dana miss shot after shot was driving Vee crazy, because she knew, without a doubt, that they could both make those shots blindfolded using a crooked stick.

Dana shrugged, tracing her brilliant gaze over Vee. "Take your shot, mooi."

"Why, so you can blow yours on purpose?" Vee's pendulum swung to exasperation, but emotion never affected her game.

Dana calmly watched her line up a shot. "Maybe I'm studying your style," she suggested. "Learning your strategy. That's hard to do if I don't have the chance to watch you play."

"You've been watching," Vee pointed out. "Every weekend for weeks."

"So, you noticed me," Dana's sculpted golden cheeks darkened. Was she blushing? "And it's been two months, from afar. I never got closer than the bar."

Vee sank two solid balls, then scratched on purpose.

She could play the long game, too. "Are you losing on purpose?" she ventured.

"I have a purpose for every shot I make or miss," Dana answered, sinking two striped balls off a bank shot.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Of course, it does, mooi."

"Are you mooing at me?" Vee was reasonably sure she wasn't...assuming wasn't something she liked to do.

"It means pretty," Dana laughed lightly. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"Pineapple."

"Chicken, beef, and pork. Order of preference?"

Vee laughed as understanding dawned. She was planning a date. "Pork, chicken, beef."

Dana sank another ball with precision. "Any veggies you will not eat?"

"Lima beans."

"Those are legumes, not veggies."

"Mama called them veggies, and I hate them. Okay," she laughed at Dana's arched brow. "Peas, green beans, and -don't tell Madea- turnips & turnip greens. They just taste... dirty. Rutabagas too, and I can't get with beets either."

Dana nodded slowly, lining up another shot. "I have no love for pinto beans," she confessed, "or crawfish."

"What about etouffee?"

"I eat it with shrimp." Dana scratched and stood back from the table. "Crawfish look like underwater insects to me. I just can't do it."

"Shrimp isn't that much of a step up," Vee pointed out, surveying the table. She had two easy shots. "Personally, if we're talking about seafood, I'd rather go with straight fish."

Dana nodded, stepping back as she rounded the table to get into position. "I do enjoy trout, Dover sole, flounder, and halibut. Salmon is delicious if done right."

Vee watched her ball roll to the side pocket.

"Okay, so, order of preference," she joined in the planning. "Lobster, crab, shrimp."

Dana sucked air through her teeth. "That's a hard call because I'm more partial to actual shellfish. Oysters, mussels, scallops, and clams. But," she laughed, lifting her palms when Vee frowned. "Shrimp, crab, lobster. Have you ever had abalone?"

"I didn't even know you could eat abalone," Vee muttered then frowned at the mischievous grin Dana wore. "Hey! It's not your turn."

"Then I owe you another." Not a shred of shame, Vee noticed.

"Where do they serve abalone?" She couldn't think of anything else to ask just then.

"High-end, fine dining places, mostly," Dana replied. "Along with squid, sea urchin, and geoduck."

"You eat at places like that?" What the hell was gooey duck?

Dana shook her head. "I'm happy at Chili's or Razoo's. Still your shot."

Vee sank her shot with little difficulty and opened two more shots for herself.

"How old are you?"

"Over twenty-one, under thirty."

Vee laughed at the mischievous glint in Dana's eyes. "I'm twenty-four."

"Old enough to know better, young enough to enjoy yourself anyway," Dana quipped.

"Exactly," Vee agreed, sinking the next two shots. "Why did you wait so long to talk to me?"

A shy smile and a darkening of her cheeks left Vee momentarily speechless.

"You're so beautiful," Dana said quietly. "Captivating. And you always had men around you. I watched you with them, listened to you handle them. I didn't think I had a chance in hell of getting your attention."

Humbled. Flattered.

That's what those words did to her. And attracted. This statuesque, flame-haired, gold-dusted, emerald-eyed goddess didn't think she had a chance?

"Then what made you finally step up?"

The blush grew deeper. "Dane suggested I challenge you to a game. And," she shook her head and peered behind Vee, "he threatened to make a move on you if I didn't."

Startled, Vee twisted around and found identical green eyes shining, a roguish smile lifting lips disturbingly similar to Dana's. He lifted his beer in salute, and she shook her head.

"Does he do that often?" Vee demanded. "I mean move on chicks you like?"

Dana chuckled, nodding to the table.

"Shit." Vee didn't have a shot. She scratched and planted the end of the cue on the floor by her foot.

"Would it bother you," Dana asked, "if he did move on chicks I like?"

"Hell, yeah," Vee snapped. "That's some grimy shit. What kinda brother does that?"

"He doesn't," Dana assured her, lining up a shot. "But we are often attracted to the same person. Physical gender doesn't matter. It's people we're attracted to, not their sex organs. Intellect and humor. Character. Of course, curves don't hurt. A nice body always draws attention, but it's not the deciding factor."

Vee watched Dana sink two balls, leaving them even.

"Do you find Dane attractive?"

Vee frowned. "I met you first."

"But you noticed both of us," Dana pointed out quietly. "I've never been here without him."

"I thought he was your boyfriend at first," Vee admitted. "I wasn't even sure you were female until I saw you from the front."

Dana tilted her head in amusement. "You thought I was a guy."

"You never wear skirts. Always pants and a jacket and your-" she choked off the rest.

Your breasts are small...

Perky, but small, not like Vee's double D rack. More like a B cup. Dana's tits would be a good handful, just enough to play with. Vee cleared her throat, trying not to imagine what color those nipples might turn out to be.

"I'm not quite as endowed as some," Dana agreed, eyeing Vee's curves in open appreciation.

Was it the first time she did that? Vee wasn't sure, but it felt like a caress. Sweet and sensual, from her throat down over the lush tits sitting high, the dip of her waist, and the flare of her hips to the line of her legs under the flirty skirt of her A-line dress. She shivered, tingling from those glittering eyes.

"Yeah." Why was she breathless? A look shouldn't leave her breathless. Dana shouldn't get her heated without a touch, not even dirty words, just those eyes.

A smile tickled the corner of Dana's mouth. "I'm flattered you noticed," she said softly, a mountain of meaning in those simple words. "I believe I owe you a drink." Dana nodded to a bartender. "Whatever the lady is having, on me."

Vee blinked slowly, feeling like she was wrapped in a haze of sensual promise. How did Dana do that from way over there, on the other side of the pool table?

Dana cleared her throat and slid her attention back to the table. "May I give you my number?"

Vee frowned. "Why?"

"So that we can plan lunch," Dana grinned. "And dinner, if you're feeling like another game."

"You're trying to win?" Vee shook her head when Dana scratched.

"Win or lose, we're having lunch," Dana pointed out.

While Dana recovered the cue ball, Vee whipped her phone out of the pocket in her dress. She refused to carry a purse in a place like this, so she chose her attire with that in mind. She kept her phone carefully put away. Most people in the area didn't carry a top of the line Blackberry unless they were dope dealers.

Or worse.

She unlocked it and handed it over, watching Dana quickly type before passing it back. She didn't seem phased by the high-end model. That was impressive.

Taking a breath, Vee looked over the table. She only had a few balls left, and she wanted to win. She always wanted to win. Maybe, Dana wanted to lose.

She wrapped up the game, knocking the eight ball down decisively.

"Good game." Once again, Dana lost with grace and a gleam in her bright eyes. "Winner takes loser to dinner?"

Vee shook her head. "You break."

"Winner breaks," Dana insisted, already racking the balls.

"You owe me three answers."

Dana lifted the triangle and stood waiting.

"May I give you my number?"

Smiling, Dana nodded. Vee found her number in the contacts and sent a quick call.

Laughing, Dana tapped a few times and put her phone away. Vee was intrigued to see that Dana carried a Treo Palm Pilot, a phone as pricey as her Blackberry. "Next."

"If Dane hadn't threatened to talk to me first," Vee began, "would you be playing with me tonight?"

"I'm not playing at all, Vivienne," Dana told her huskily, those brilliant eyes going serious, and then she shrugged. "I think one way or another, I would have gotten the nerve to speak to you tonight. Two months is a long time to admire from afar. Almost creepy."

"Are you losing on purpose?" Vee challenged. She had to hear it from Dana's lips.

Dana strolled over to the bar to retrieve a drink from the bartender. She brought it over and pressed it into Vee's hand.

Those vivid eyes held hers without a flinch. "I have a goal that goes beyond winning a game."

"That's not an answer," Vee protested. Dammit, Jim. Why couldn't she just answer the question straight?

"It's the answer I'm giving you tonight," Dana smiled at her and stepped away. "Break."