lady. He had insultingly reminded her of that night she had stood before him looking like anything but a lady.
Her facial muscles tensed and her glare hardened. No true gentleman would deliberately remind a woman of one of her most humiliating experiences. She sighed. If she was no lady, then he certainly wasn't a true gentleman. She was spared from telling him that fact when the waitress came to take his order.
“You look nice today, Corinthians,” he said after the waitress had left.
She lifted her head. The look she gave him indicated his compliment didn't faze her. However, since she'd been brought up with the belief that displaying good manners was essential, even to someone like Trevor Grant, she answered stiffly. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome. And you smell nice, too.”
Corinthians stared into Trevor's eyes. “Why all the compliments? Let's be honest with ourselves, shall we? I don't like you. You don't like me. For reasons that I'd rather not get into, we don't get along. However, since our jobs occasionally bring us in contact with each other, I believe we can handle the situation like two professional adults.”
Trevor eyed her thoughtfully. “If you believe that, then why are you always avoiding me?”
“I don't always avoid you.”
“Then why haven't you responded to my messages?”
“I had a rather taxing flight yesterday from Austin to Miami. And to top it off, when I arrived at the airport I was stopped. Brazilian customs officials who went through every piece of luggage I brought with me detained me. By the time I checked into the hotel, I was too tired to be bothered by anyone.”
Corinthians sighed. That much of what she had just told him had been the truth.
Trevor raised a surprised brow. South America was known to be lax when it came to airport security. More drugs and contraband were smuggled in and out of this continent than any other place that he knew of, and usually under the airport officials' indifferent eyes. He wondered why she had been stopped. “Brazilian officials actually stopped you?”
Corinthians met his stare. “Yes. I was detained for more than two hours. It probably would have been longer had I not made a scene and threatened to contact someone at the American Embassy.”
At that moment the waitress returned with Trevor's meal. He had ordered churrasco, an array of different kinds of meats grilled on skewers. In addition to his glass of Brazilian brandy, the waitress also left him a small bottle of malagueta, a spicy sauce made from crushed, hot red peppers. When he uncapped the bottle, the spicy-hot aroma nearly took Corinthians's breath away.
“I can't believe you're putting that stuff on your food,” she said, watching him pour the sauce all over his meat.
He didn't look up when he replied. “Believe it.” But he did lift his gaze to meet hers when he added, “I happen to like hot stuff. Nothing stirs my blood more. The hotter, the better.”
The look he gave her, as far as she was concerned, was just like the sauce he had poured over his food: red-hot. She felt her insides sizzle from the heat. He was staring at her with those dark eyes of his, hard and intense. She took a shaky breath. “Then enjoy yourself.”
He smiled. “I will.” He lifted a skewer and with his teeth pulled a piece of sauce-covered meat into his mouth without flinching. He smiled a slow, seductive smile.
Corinthians tried hard not to stare, but watching him chew his food was having an arousing effect on her. An involuntary shudder of simmering heat ripped through her. Her gaze followed every contoured movement of his mouth. Its motion was slow, provocative and alluring. She could just imagine his mouth working those same slow, steady and measured movements on hers, smothering her lips with demanding intensity. She tinted a darker shade, mortified because she'd had such thoughts.
“Want some?”
The sound of Trevor's voice, deep and husky, startled Corinthians. She tinted at having been caught staring. She ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them before asking. “Want some what?”
Trevor leaned over toward her and whispered, “Some of my food, what else?”
Corinthians took a deep breath. He was back to being arrogant again. She frowned at him. “No, I don't want any of your food. Mine suits me just fine,” she snapped irritably, annoyed for letting him have such an effect on her. She had to get away from him to retain her sanity.
“I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal,” she said brusquely, motioning to the waitress to bring her check.
“Where are you going?” Trevor asked, looking at her curiously.
“Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going to my room. I plan on doing some sightseeing in São Paulo all day tomorrow and want to get a good night's sleep.”
“Can I tag along tomorrow?”
Corinthians was startled. “I prefer that you didn't.”
Trevor didn't look up as he poured more sauce on his meat. “Why not? Like you said earlier, we're two professional adults.” He lifted his gaze to hers and grinned. “Surely we can put our dislike for each other aside for at least one day.”
“I don't think us spending time together is a good idea.”
“Why do you feel that way?”
“Because I do.”
Trevor pushed his plate aside. “Then let's discuss why you feel that way and really get to the crux of the problem. Don't you think two years is a long time for you to carry a chip on your shoulder?”
“I'm not carrying a chip on my shoulder. And I prefer not talking about that night. I don't even like thinking about it.”
“Then don't.”
“That's easy for you to say.”
“Not talking about it won't make it go away. That night happened, Corinthians. Get over it. However, I think it will make you feel better if we got it out in the open and discussed it.”
Corinthians doubted that. Her embarrassment and humiliation that night were too great. There was no way she could discuss how she felt, especially with Trevor of all people. He had seen her in a way no other man ever had. “What's there to say?”
“Whatever you want.” A part of Trevor hoped she would say her feelings for Dex were a thing of the past and that she had accepted his marriage. He hoped she wasn't like the woman who had become obsessed with his father and had destroyed his parents' marriage. The thought that she could very well be that sort of woman—scheming, conniving and manipulating—angered him.
“Get over Dex, Corinthians. He's a married man who loves his wife very much. You don't stand a chance.”
Corinthians's angered flared. Why was he telling her that? She knew Dex loved Caitlin. Anyone with eyes could see that. At the time that she had decided to make her move on Dex, she had not seen him in more than four years and had not known his marital state. When she had first gotten hired at Remington Oil right out of college at Grambling, Dex had been her trainer. They had worked together for a couple of years before he was sent to work
