“Fuck off.”
I register the throaty sound of her voice and the British accent even as my inner caveman takes the lead and propels me to my feet. Pretty ironic, considering I would’ve sworn as recently as ten seconds ago that I’m not the jealous type.
A murmur of dissent rises from my brothers as I head in her direction without another word.
“Keep it cool,” Ryker calls after me. “We’d rather not have to bail you out of jail tonight.”
But I’m on a mission and don’t have the time or inclination to reassure him. I’m not sitting idly by while some SOB in a shiny suit harasses my ice princess right in front of me. Can’t do it.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, putting a protective arm around the back of her chair and startling them both. Shiny Suit shoots me a glare, but I only have eyes for her and the flare of relief in her expression as she tips her face up to look at me. “Everything okay over here?”
2
Damon
A pregnant beat passes. I raise my brow at her, proud of my one-upsmanship, but she recovers quickly. The glimmer of mischief in her expression warns me that my triumph will be short-lived.
“About bloody time, Ruprecht darling,” she says smoothly. “You know I’ve been worried about your proctology exam this afternoon. I do hope your bottom will be okay.”
I choke back a startled bark of laughter. A ringing relative silence follows. I’m not sure which one of us is more horrified, me or Shiny Suit. The guy actually backs up half a step, as though he expects some flesh-eating germ to leap from my ass to his and wants to maintain a minimum safe distance.
She stares up at me, those clever eyes gleaming with an unmistakable gotcha.
I award her several more points before reminding myself that two can play this game.
I hadn’t planned to touch her—not yet—but plans change. So I bend and give her a lingering kiss by her ear, savoring both the subtle hitch in her breath and the scent of lavender that clings to her warm skin.
“The only thing I love more than a challenge is a wicked sense of humor,” I murmur.
Maybe I’m imagining things, but I detect a tiny feminine hum of pleasure at my touch.
“Don’t worry,” I say in my regular voice for the benefit of our audience as I pull back. “All of my private parts are in excellent working condition. You’ll see later. Make a new friend?”
She sends me a subtle narrowed dagger of a look before focusing on Shiny Suit.
“Not really. Some men see a woman alone at a bar whilst waiting for friends and act as though they’re in the buffet line at some horrible cafeteria. You know the type of awful man I’m talking about, don’t you, darling?” A pointed look in my direction. “Anyway, this stranger was just leaving. Because I don’t pick up strange men in bars.”
“Ah,” I say, shaking the startled man’s hand and putting a hand on his shoulder to steer him out of the way as I ease into the banquette opposite her. “You can’t blame a man for trying. Have a good night, buddy.”
“I’ll do that,” the man says sourly, now holding his hand out as though it’s been dipped in warm elephant shit.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I say brightly. “It’s not contagious.”
The man walks off, muttering darkly and shaking his head. Leaving me alone with a flinty-eyed female who evidently doesn’t appreciate my humor.
“I thought he’d never leave,” I say. “And couldn’t you give me a better name than Ruprecht?”
“Why on earth would your name matter when you’re about to go back to your own table?”
Something about the throaty voice, upper-class British accent and withering disdain coming from that mouth drives me absolutely freaking insane.
I put a hand over my heart and try to look wounded.
“This is my reward for rescuing you just now? Not very friendly, is it?”
“The word friendly has never once been used to describe me. I’m happy to buy you a thank-you drink. Once you fuck off to your own table.”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“I’m glad I made the walk over here. This will be more fun than I thought.”
She frowns. “What will?”
“Warming you up,” I say, staring her in the face.
Vivid color stains her cheeks. “I do not need warming up.”
“I disagree,” I say with an easy shrug. “I’ve lost three toes to frostbite since I walked over here.”
“Then by all means,” she says, her expression stony. “Walk back before you lose the rest. If I’d wanted to be bothered, I’d have sat at the bar. I repeat: fuck. Off.”
“If you don’t want to be bothered, you need to do something about that face and body. Those eyes.” My voice gets husky, much to my surprise and irritation. Women fall into my lap. I don’t throw myself at their feet and creep along the edge of stalker territory in the slender hope of getting them to smile at me. “And you’d probably stop with the dirty talk if you knew how much those words coming from your lips in that accent turns me on.”
Something about my unsmiling delivery of this information seems to catch her off guard. She hesitates, her eyes widening as she opens her mouth and manages to say zip.
We stare at each other, my breath held during the agonizing wait for her verdict. Because I will leave if she insists. I won’t be happy about it, but I will.
She looks bewildered. Uncertain.
Also unwillingly intrigued and hopeful.
“You’re not married, are you?” she finally asks.
“No,” I say, deciding not to add that if I were married, I’d lie my ass off about it for a chance to spend the night screwing her senseless.
Something in her expression reluctantly eases. The sight of this softening loosens up my chest and allows me to breathe.
“Felon? Sociopath? Pedophile? Fraudster?”
“Nope.” My ears burn. “Just a guy intrigued enough by a woman to stick his neck out a little. Risk making a fool of himself. Which is not something I normally do. Take my word for it.”
“Well,” she says, her voice somewhat warmer as she breaks eye contact and smooths her hair behind her ear. I’m not going to lie: it’s something of a relief to be out from under her high beam. The intensity of the pull I feel toward her when we look at each other is starting to mess with my head. “You’ve come all this way. A good couple meters from your table. You may as well have a drink. Fuck off immediately after that.”
“Works for me,” I say, relieved.
We start to smile at each other, but she catches herself.
“As long as you understand that this is just a drink until my friend gets here.” She hitches up her chin. Gives me a stern look. “I’m not going upstairs to the hotel with you. Or anywhere with you.”
The statement is patently absurd. The electricity is so thick between us that you can almost hear it crackle.
“You don’t believe that, do you?”
My curiosity gets the best of me, and maybe her innate honesty gets the best of her. Whatever. I wait, my entire existence poised for her response. She hesitates, her color high as her attention dips to my mouth. That feels like answer enough.