features.
“No, I was lying earlier. I’ve really got four ex-wives and, get it right, fifteen children. Not just a dozen.” He chuckled and his smile seemed more sincere, his interest obviously piqued.
Careful, Gina, you’re treading in dangerous waters here, the sober, nose-to-the-grindstone private investigator part of her mind screamed. But the other part, the feminine, ludicrously romantic side, wanted to wade ever deeper and couldn’t resist stepping closer to the whirlpool that she sensed was so near.
“So what do you do for a living that allows you to support all those kids and still leaves enough change left over to buy strange women glasses of expensivewine?” she asked innocently, wondering if he would tell the truth.
“Well, I’m a millionaire several times over, have oil wells and real-estate ventures all over the state, and saw you sitting all by yourself and thought you looked interesting.”
She smiled and sipped her wine. “Does this line of yours usually work?”
“Usually.” He said it without a trace of arrogance.
She wanted desperately to keep this game going, but she knew instinctively that she would only cause herself the kind of problems she didn’t want or need in her life. She leaned over as if to kiss him, but said instead, “Well, it’s not working with me. Not tonight.”
“And you’re a lousy liar.”
“No, I—” With one hand he reached up and cupped the back of her head, and held her face firmly close to his. His eyes were suddenly so close she noticed the different shades of blue fusing together. His lips were near enough that when he spoke they brushed against hers.
“As I said, a lousy liar.”
She gulped as she stared into those laser-bright orbs and tried to come up with some quick comeback. Was he going to kiss her? Oh, God, right here in the bar? With the dancers and the band and the other patrons? Pulse racing, she was suddenly and desperately out of breath. She licked her lips.
“Thought so,” he said arrogantly. His hand dropped.
So he’d been toying with her!
Like a frightened colt, she bolted. As she stood suddenly, her elbow hit her glass, splashing wine on Trent’s shirt and suit, on his face, on the table.
“Oh, I’m—I’m sorry,” she said, trying to swab up the spills and feeling her face turn as red as the wine. “Your suit…”
“It’s all right.”
She was mopping furiously with a napkin. “You’ve got to clean that before the stain sets. I’ll pay the dry-cleaning bill.”
“It’s all right.”
“No.” She was insistent. “I mean, please, I feel like an idiot. The least I can do is pay for this.” She motioned feebly to the red stain on his shirt and the drips still clinging to his jacket. “If you take it to the cleaner’s you can send me the bill—” No, that wouldn’t work. Even though she was a little tipsy, she knew she couldn’t give out her real name or address; he’d catch her in her lie. “Or better yet, why don’t you just give me the suit and I’ll have it cleaned here at the hotel and get it to you tomorrow.”
“Great idea. Let’s go.” He was on his feet in an instant. His fingers circled Gina’s wrist as he dragged her with him. She wanted to argue, but when she started to protest, she saw the light of challenge in his eyes, the lift of one of his cocky eyebrows, the absolute belief that she wouldn’t take him up on the offer.
“Lead the way,” she said, fighting back all her rational instincts that told her she was not only flirtingwith the man but danger, as well. “If that’s what you think we should do.”
He sent her a glance that was pure sexual energy. “Oh, yeah. I do think.” He said to the barkeep, “Put it on my tab.” Then with Gina in tow, her head spinning from too much wine, he made his way to the elevator. Once in the car, he punched a button for the penthouse floor.
Her stomach knotted. What was she doing? Alone with him as the elevator sped to the top
“No, I was lying earlier. I’ve really got four ex-wives and, get it right, fifteen children. Not just a dozen.” He chuckled and his smile seemed more sincere, his interest obviously piqued.
Careful, Gina, you’re treading in dangerous waters here, the sober, nose-to-the-grindstone private investigator part of her mind screamed. But the other part, the feminine, ludicrously romantic side, wanted to wade ever deeper and couldn’t resist stepping closer to the whirlpool that she sensed was so near.
“So what do you do for a living that allows you to support all those kids and still leaves enough change left over to buy strange women glasses of expensivewine?” she asked innocently, wondering if he would tell the truth.
“Well, I’m a millionaire several times over, have oil wells and real-estate ventures all over the state, and saw you sitting all by yourself and thought you looked interesting.”
She smiled and sipped her wine. “Does this line of yours usually work?”
“Usually.” He said it without a trace of arrogance.
She wanted desperately to keep this game going, but she knew instinctively that she would only cause herself the kind of problems she didn’t want or need in her life. She leaned over as if to kiss him, but said instead, “Well, it’s not working with me. Not tonight.”
“And you’re a lousy liar.”
“No, I—” With one hand he reached up and cupped the back of her head, and held her face firmly close to his. His eyes were suddenly so close she noticed the different shades of blue fusing together. His lips were near enough that when he spoke they brushed against hers.
“As I said, a lousy liar.”
She gulped as she stared into those laser-bright orbs and tried to come up with some quick comeback. Was he going to kiss her? Oh, God, right here in the bar? With the dancers and the band and the other patrons? Pulse racing, she was suddenly and desperately out of breath. She licked her lips.
“Thought so,” he said arrogantly. His hand dropped.
So he’d been toying with her!
Like a frightened colt, she bolted. As she stood suddenly, her elbow hit her glass, splashing wine on Trent’s shirt and suit, on his face, on the table.
“Oh, I’m—I’m sorry,” she said, trying to swab up the spills and feeling her face turn as red as the wine. “Your suit…”
“It’s all right.”
She was mopping furiously with a napkin. “You’ve got to clean that before the stain sets. I’ll pay the dry-cleaning bill.”
“It’s all right.”
“No.” She was insistent. “I mean, please, I feel like an idiot. The least I can do is pay for this.” She motioned feebly to the red stain on his shirt and the drips still clinging to his jacket. “If you take it to the cleaner’s you can send me the bill—” No, that wouldn’t work. Even though she was a little tipsy, she knew she couldn’t give out her real name or address; he’d catch her in her lie. “Or better yet, why don’t you just give me the suit and I’ll have it cleaned here at the hotel and get it to you tomorrow.”
“Great idea. Let’s go.” He was on his feet in an instant. His fingers circled Gina’s wrist as he dragged her with him. She wanted to argue, but when she started to protest, she saw the light of challenge in his eyes, the lift of one of his cocky eyebrows, the absolute belief that she wouldn’t take him up on the offer.
“Lead the way,” she said, fighting back all her rational instincts that told her she was not only flirtingwith the man but danger, as well. “If that’s what you think we should do.”
He sent her a glance that was pure sexual energy. “Oh, yeah. I do think.” He said to the barkeep, “Put it on my tab.” Then with Gina in tow, her head spinning from too much wine, he made his way to the elevator. Once in the car, he punched a button for the penthouse floor.
Her stomach knotted. What was she doing? Alone with him as the elevator sped to the top
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