Read Online Battle Prize by Stephanie James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie James
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fountain, but it was all done in a serenely tailored Japanese style. Rani walked slowly through the garden to the front door, coming to accept just how right the calm, restrained effect suited Gage Fletcher.
When he opened the door she found he was also wearing black, with only a crisp white shirt for contrast. The cut of the jacket was close-fitting and conservative. The sable of his hair gleamed faintly from the shower.
"We're going to make an entrance tonight, wherever we go," he mused appreciatively as his eyes roamed over her. "Are you sure you don't want to take the black Jag? Just for effect?"
"I'm sure," she laughed, feeling a rising excitement as she mentally prepared for the next battle maneuver from him.
"Want the psychological advantage of knowing you can beat a hasty retreat in your own war wagon?" he drawled understandingly.
"Perhaps," she admitted lightly as he stepped through the door. He didn't invite her in and Rani had only a glimpse of a hallway that seemed to carry on the Oriental motif. She found herself very interested in the interior of Gage's home. But then, she was freely acknowledging to herself now that she was very interested in Gage, period.
"I made reservations at a restaurant that features French food," she teased as they walked back through the garden. "I decided we'd better eat the loser's food. English cooking isn't exactly famous."
"Fine. Do you want me to drive?" he asked, absently holding out his hand for the keys.
"No, I do not! I'm taking you, remember?" She walked around to the driver's side of the Mazda and opened the door.
"Some aspects of male chauvinism die hard," he said apologetically as he slid in beside her.
"I'm aware of that," she pointed out somewhat caustically. "I worked for Aaron Prescott if you'll recall."
He nodded meekly. "I recall. Only too well. Are you going to make a pass at me after dinner when you bring me home?"
She flashed him a startled glance as she guided the Mazda out of the drive, and then her sense of humor rose to the fore. "Don't get your hopes up," she advised blandly. "Besides, you wouldn't want me to think you're unbecomingly aggressive or fast, would you?"
Gage didn't give her the next argument in his arsenal until they were halfway through the chicken Marengo, a dish named in honor of one of Napoleon's famous victories, as Gage took pains to point out.
"I've tried logic, which should have done the trick," he began, the humor in him fading as pure business took its place.
"You needn't waste any more time implying I'm not too bright," Rani countered grimly.
"Are you mercenary instead?" he shot back smoothly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Suddenly tense, Rani put down her fork and waited.
"I've been authorized to offer you quite a sum of money, Rani," he stated calmly.
"Money! Good grief! How much?"
He told her and she swallowed in astonishment "Prescott must be feeling quite desperate," she finally managed weakly.
"You could use that money to tide you over until you find another job," Gage pressed deliberately. "It would give you the financial cushion everyone needs while they look for work. You wouldn't have to rush into anything—"
"Tell Prescott to take his money and use it to spruce up the employees' cafeteria!" she flung back. "I sure as hell don't want it!"
"Rani," he began firmly, " be reasonable. You're going back to Dallas to clean up the mess you left behind. You might as well get paid for it!"
"I am not going back to Dallas, Gage. In fact, I am no more impressed by this argument than I was by the last one."
"You're being childish and vindictive, and the only one you're going to hurt is yourself! Can't you see that you're going to have to go back one way or another? Why do things the hard way?"
"Maybe I like doing them that way!"
"You're like the French during the Hundred Years' War: illogical, unreasonable and headed for a bruising fall! I will not allow it"
"You, Gage Fletcher, can't do anything about it! I'm
When he opened the door she found he was also wearing black, with only a crisp white shirt for contrast. The cut of the jacket was close-fitting and conservative. The sable of his hair gleamed faintly from the shower.
"We're going to make an entrance tonight, wherever we go," he mused appreciatively as his eyes roamed over her. "Are you sure you don't want to take the black Jag? Just for effect?"
"I'm sure," she laughed, feeling a rising excitement as she mentally prepared for the next battle maneuver from him.
"Want the psychological advantage of knowing you can beat a hasty retreat in your own war wagon?" he drawled understandingly.
"Perhaps," she admitted lightly as he stepped through the door. He didn't invite her in and Rani had only a glimpse of a hallway that seemed to carry on the Oriental motif. She found herself very interested in the interior of Gage's home. But then, she was freely acknowledging to herself now that she was very interested in Gage, period.
"I made reservations at a restaurant that features French food," she teased as they walked back through the garden. "I decided we'd better eat the loser's food. English cooking isn't exactly famous."
"Fine. Do you want me to drive?" he asked, absently holding out his hand for the keys.
"No, I do not! I'm taking you, remember?" She walked around to the driver's side of the Mazda and opened the door.
"Some aspects of male chauvinism die hard," he said apologetically as he slid in beside her.
"I'm aware of that," she pointed out somewhat caustically. "I worked for Aaron Prescott if you'll recall."
He nodded meekly. "I recall. Only too well. Are you going to make a pass at me after dinner when you bring me home?"
She flashed him a startled glance as she guided the Mazda out of the drive, and then her sense of humor rose to the fore. "Don't get your hopes up," she advised blandly. "Besides, you wouldn't want me to think you're unbecomingly aggressive or fast, would you?"
Gage didn't give her the next argument in his arsenal until they were halfway through the chicken Marengo, a dish named in honor of one of Napoleon's famous victories, as Gage took pains to point out.
"I've tried logic, which should have done the trick," he began, the humor in him fading as pure business took its place.
"You needn't waste any more time implying I'm not too bright," Rani countered grimly.
"Are you mercenary instead?" he shot back smoothly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Suddenly tense, Rani put down her fork and waited.
"I've been authorized to offer you quite a sum of money, Rani," he stated calmly.
"Money! Good grief! How much?"
He told her and she swallowed in astonishment "Prescott must be feeling quite desperate," she finally managed weakly.
"You could use that money to tide you over until you find another job," Gage pressed deliberately. "It would give you the financial cushion everyone needs while they look for work. You wouldn't have to rush into anything—"
"Tell Prescott to take his money and use it to spruce up the employees' cafeteria!" she flung back. "I sure as hell don't want it!"
"Rani," he began firmly, " be reasonable. You're going back to Dallas to clean up the mess you left behind. You might as well get paid for it!"
"I am not going back to Dallas, Gage. In fact, I am no more impressed by this argument than I was by the last one."
"You're being childish and vindictive, and the only one you're going to hurt is yourself! Can't you see that you're going to have to go back one way or another? Why do things the hard way?"
"Maybe I like doing them that way!"
"You're like the French during the Hundred Years' War: illogical, unreasonable and headed for a bruising fall! I will not allow it"
"You, Gage Fletcher, can't do anything about it! I'm
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