“Bet hay would be right good to scoop up caviar,” he said, exaggerating his drawl.
Violet extended her hand, palm up, and gave Edith a telling look. You see?
“You’re asking the impossible,” Violet said with a sad shake of her head, as though regretful. “I’d be happy to show him around town, but as long as he’s scared to death of failing…”
Cain gave an incredulous laugh. “Scared? What the fuck?”
Violet looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s a monumental task she’s asking of you, and I understand completely if you’re not up to it.”
“Oh, you understand completely,” he repeated in a mocking, uppity tone. His eyebrow arched upward in derision. “Reverse psychology, Duchess? That was your big plan?”
Violet inspected her nails to avoid having to confirm that he was exactly right. It had been worth a shot.
Cain shook his head at Edith with a contemptuous smirk. “You brought in the wrong girl, Edith. Duchess here is in over her head and doesn’t have the backbone to deal with anything outside of her comfort zone. She’d quit before the first week of trying to turn me into your puppet.”
Violet moved toward Cain for the first time, stepping between him and Edith so he was forced to address her directly. “Prove it.”
“I already told you, those mind games won’t—”
“I think you’re right, this won’t last a week,” she spoke over him. “But it won’t be me who backs out—it’ll be you who realizes you’re out of your league. You won’t last a day in my world.”
His eyes seemed to spark, if only briefly, at the challenge, and his jaw worked in clenched tension as though warring with his own instincts.
Then he swore, a low, long string of curses, half of which Violet had never even heard.
“Fine,” he snapped at his grandmother. “If Duchess here wants to play dress-up, I’ll be her doll if it means I inherit a fucking fortune.”
“Wonderful,” Edith said, clapping her hands in delight and ignoring her grandson’s profanity and clear disdain for the situation. “I’ll just go tell Alvin to bring in some champagne.”
Edith swept out of the room, her typical younger-than-her-age vitality restored, and the moment she was gone, Violet allowed her sweetly demure smile to widen in smug triumph.
“You’re pleased with yourself,” Cain said in a bored voice as he ambled toward her. He was even taller than she realized, and broader too. Once again, the unfamiliar, untamed masculinity made her heartbeat a little too fast, her breath a bit ragged. “Think you’ve handled me, have you?”
Since she guessed his proximity was deliberately meant to make her ill at ease, Violet forced herself to lift her face all the way to his and meet his gaze dead-on.
It was a mistake.
Up close, she could see his lashes were thick and curled with surprising gold tips. Up close, he smelled like mint and soap, without any hint of cologne.
It was irritatingly appealing.
Cain’s gaze was doing some exploring of its own, his eyes taking their time, starting at her hairline and moving—slowly—all the way down to her feet, as though seeing her truly for the first time.
When his eyes snapped back to hers, she felt a pull low in her stomach. Uh-oh.
“Haven’t I?” Violet said, relieved her voice wasn’t as breathless as she felt. “Handled you?”
His smile was slow. Predatory. He moved even closer until she could feel his body heat. “Careful, Duchess. Look at me that way again, and you’ll be the one who’s handled, and not the least bit gently.”
She sucked in a breath at the unapologetically sexual undertone.
“Don’t worry,” Cain murmured mockingly. “I guarantee you’ll like it.”
Three
You’ve got to be joking.”
Since it was the third time Keith had uttered that very statement, Violet didn’t hurry to respond. She cut off a bite-size piece of scallop and dragged it through the decadent butter sauce. She set the scallop on her tongue, savoring the richness for just a moment before chewing, swallowing, and taking a sip of chardonnay.
Finally, she looked back at Keith. “I’m not joking. Would it help to sink in if I wrote it down for you?”
Keith blinked in surprise at the sharpness in her tone, and Violet couldn’t blame him. She rarely resorted to waspishness, but ever since her meeting with Edith and her newly discovered grandson yesterday, she’d felt out of sorts.
She’d picked up her phone a half-dozen times to tell Edith she couldn’t do it. Or rather, that she didn’t want to do it—didn’t want to spend the foreseeable future with a man who clearly couldn’t stand her.
But every time, Violet had set the phone back down again. Partially because she hated the thought of disappointing Edith, but mostly because it felt like letting Cain win.
The man had made it clear he didn’t think she’d survive a week in his company. The last thing she wanted to do was let him think that she was so meek and sheltered as to back down before they’d even begun, especially given the taunting way he’d ended the conversation. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d rattled her. Or that in that moment, she’d forgotten that Keith even existed.
She was on edge, yes, but also determined, which was odd in itself. Violet wasn’t the sort to make a point for the sake of making a point. She was good at smoothing ruffled feathers, problem solving, and supporting people. That she was motivated to take on Cain Stone out of pride and dislike was out of character.
Violet looked across the table, caught Keith’s nonplussed expression, and realized she’d better put her feather-smoothing skills to work.
Violet smiled and reached for Keith’s hand. He glanced at it, hesitating a moment before covering her hand with his. The touch was warm and familiar, if not exactly electric.
She’d made peace with their lack of chemistry long ago. As far as Violet was concerned, there were more important things than butterflies and passion. She wanted someone who would be there for her, someone she could count on.
Keith was steady.
Safe.
Not the sexiest of adjectives, but it was important to her nonetheless. Violet had lost her parents at a young age and had been taken in by her grandmother. Years later, in college, her support network had been obliterated once again when she’d been dumped by her longtime boyfriend in the same year she’d lost her grandma.
Knowing that loss was inevitable had led Violet to seek out safety wherever she could, for as long as she could have it. It was part of why she appreciated Edith’s stalwart dependability, even if the woman could be less than warm. It had also impacted Violet’s romantic priorities. Her college boyfriend had been fun, and passionate, and spontaneous; she’d adored him, which had made it all the more crushing when his spontaneity had resulted in him falling in love with someone else and leaving Violet without ceremony.
These days, she treaded a bit more carefully and prized a different set of qualities. She wanted a man who was dependable and safe.
A man like Keith.
It didn’t hurt that she and Keith had always felt a little inevitable, almost as though they’d been tailor-made for each other. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood, they’d gone to the same school, and their parents had attended the same functions.