April dealt out the next hand, going around the circle with tantalizing slowness, her eyes wide and dark with excitement. Some people took the cards one at a time. Hannah preferred not to. They were playing straight poker—just a simple five-card deal with no flop, and in that scenario it was hard not to give away what you were hoping for when you were waiting for the cards as they were dealt. Hugh was picking up his cards one by one, and from his body language it was obvious that he didn’t have a good hand. Emily was harder to read. She picked up the cards singly, tucking them into her hand with a little double tap on each one. Ryan looked… smug. There was no other word for it. And as for Will—but here she was stumped. Will, like her, had left his cards on the floor.
April laid out the fifth card in each hand, and as the last one went down, Hannah scooped up the whole lot and surveyed them.
Almost immediately her stomach dropped, though she tried to keep her face bland and blank.
A pair of threes. Which was about as weak as it got.
“I’m out,” Hugh said. He threw in his hand and took off his jeans—the forfeit for folding was one piece of clothing and he clearly didn’t want to risk anyone raising the stakes while he still had a garment to lose. When he sat back down his cheeks were scarlet and Hannah shot him a sympathetic look.
April was dealer so was out of the running.
“I bet one garment,” Emily said. She was still wearing her top and bra, and she tapped her cards on the floor, looking more than a little smug.
“One garment,” Will said, and gave a grin that made Hannah’s stomach flutter. He only had one garment to lose, so there was no possibility of him raising the stakes.
“Hannah?”
“One,” Hannah said, but her mouth was thick and dry, and she had to take a gulp of champagne before repeating, more clearly. “One garment.” There was no point in folding. If she did, she would have to take off her bra. And the rules were that the person with the weakest hand had to strip. Maybe, maybe Will was bluffing.
“Ryan?”
“Tw—” Ryan said wickedly, looking at Emily’s shirt and his own jeans, and then he laughed. “Just kidding. One garment.”
“Okay,” April said, “let’s see ’em, folks. Emily?”
“Three of a kind,” Emily said. She laid them out with a kind of laconic triumph—three fives. It was a good hand. Better than Hannah’s. “Beat that,” she said to Ryan.
“Well, I hate to disappoint, but… flush,” Ryan said. He gave Emily a flashing grin and laid out five diamonds.
“You fucker,” Emily said equably, but she didn’t look too worried. In strip poker it didn’t really matter who won. What mattered was who lost. Only the loser would have to strip, and three fives was still a pretty good hand, particularly given she still had her top to lose.
It was down to Hannah and Will.
Hannah looked across the circle at him. He was leaning back against the legs of the armchair, long bare legs stretched out across the circle, his arms folded across his naked chest. He was smiling, and she knew that he must have a good hand, and that he could see the desperation in her eyes. She felt her heart thumping in her chest, so hard that when she looked down at her hand she could actually see the lace trim of her bra trembling. Could she do it? Was she really going to get naked in front of this room of complete strangers?
“Hannah?” April said, with that purring little note in her voice.
Hannah swallowed. She put down one three… then another…
And then Will let his cards drop, facedown.
“I’m out,” he said with a wry smile. “I guess I’ll be removing these.” He looked down at his boxers, his expression comically dismayed. You could have heard a pin drop.
“Hokay.” It was Emily who stood up, breaking the tension. “Well, that’s quite enough of that as far as I’m concerned. I have no desire to see anyone’s meat and two veg.”
She stood up, stretching unselfconsciously so that her shirt rode up, exposing an unexpected flash of Bart Simpson underpants, and then reached for her leather miniskirt.
“What?” April said, sounding aggrieved. “You must be joking! It’s barely even midnight.”
“It’s two a.m.,” Emily said, waving her phone. “And I want to be conscious for the Master’s induction speech tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Ryan stood up too and pulled his football shirt on over his head. “I’m with her. Wanna walk me back to Cloade’s?” he asked Emily, who shrugged but followed him to the door.