Her lips thinned a bit, the only sign of her agitation. “Why not?”
“What would be the fun in that?” he asked.
“Does everything have to be fun?”
He gave her a long, slow smile. “If we’re lucky.”
She sucked in a gulp of air and laid her palms flat on the counter, just an inch or so from his. He thought about touching her, but decided to wait.
“Look, Mike. I just want to retrieve that key, get back into Patrick’s office and pick up my things.” She looked him dead in the eye, hoping, no doubt, to convince him with her calm appeal to his better nature.
Too bad he didn’t have one.
He should do what she wanted, be told himself. Just give her back her stuff and let her disappear from his life. He didn’t want any entanglements. He wasn’t interested in love or long-term relationships. Mike had learned the hard way that love was an invitation to pain and he wanted no part of it. Besides, Lord knew, he had no business getting any closer to a woman who practically had conventional stamped on her forehead.
Still, something inside him just couldn’t seem to let go. To let it...whatever it was between them... end just yet.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said instead.
“What kind of deal?” Her head cocked to one side and she looked at him through the corners of very cautious eyes.
“Here’s the key for Patrick’s office and the files, but to get the rest of your stuff you have to go to dinner with me tonight.” Even as he said it though, he knew dinner wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to be alone with her again Somewhere quiet and dark, where he could kiss her, touch her. And discover if the sensations that had tormented him long after she had stormed away from him the night before were real...or just a product of the unusual situation they had found themselves in.
“Dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“My choice.”
Her toe tapped against the floor. He watched her as she mentally went over the possibilities. She threw him a worried glance and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was. That here was their chance to prove that absolutely nothing had happened between them the night before.
Then she surprised him.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “Patrick never mentioned this ruthless streak of yours.”
He widened his stance and folded both arms across his chest. “I’m not ruthless, honey. I just live my life on my terms.”
“Which are?”
She wouldn’t understand his terms, he told himself. To understand, she would have had to have been sitting in the desert sun, listening to gunfire. She would have had to watch friends die. She would have had to experience the one inescapable fact that life is short. Too damned short.
Since it was pointless to try to explain all of that, he said only, “The terms vary from day to day.”
“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
He gave her points. Irritated and frustrated, she still gave as good as she got.
“So,” Mike said. “What about dinner?”
“Can’t you just give me my stuff?”
“I could...but I won’t.”
Her lips thinned and that toe of hers started tapping even faster. Finally, after she checked her narrow-banded gold watch, she spoke.
“All right, dinner. Here’s my address.” She dug into that saddle bag she called a purse and came up with a business card. She set it down and took a step back from the counter. “Of course, it’s not like I have a choice, is it?” she asked. “To get my things back, I have to go.”
“True,” he agreed and ignored the small stab of conscience.
“Do you always use extortion to get a woman to have dinner with you?”
“Only when I have to. Like I said, the terms vary. Seven-thirly.”
“Seven-thirty.”
“You don’t have to go, Denise,” he heard himself say. “You could call Patrick and whine until he agrees to rescue you from me.”
One pale blond brow lifted. “First, I don’t whine. Second, I don’t need anyone to rescue me from you, Mike Ryan. I can take care of myself.”
She really was something else. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and grinned at her. “I remember.”
“Good,” she said as she turned for the door. “It’ll be better for both of us, if you keep on remembering.”
What do you wear to have dinner with a man who dresses like a B movie from the fifties and has far more self-confidence than any three people deserve?
Denise stood in the foyer of her condo and checked her appearance in the full-length mirror one more time. Her navy blue dress looked perfect, she thought and swayed to watch the full skirt swirl around her legs.
Nodding to herself, she said aloud, “You wear something that gives you confidence, naturally.”
She smoothed her fingertips along the modestly cut neckline. Revealing just a glimpse of her collarbone, the long-sleeved dress looked demure, almost prudish, until one saw the back. Smiling to herself, Denise half turned and looked into the mirror over her shoulder. The deeply scooped back dipped sensuously low, coming to a stop just below her waist. The smooth expanse of flesh it displayed was evenly tanned a warm, golden brown.
Denise fluffed her hair one last time, checked the hooks of her sapphire drop earrings, then reached into her tiny evening bag for her lipstick. Though the small, black leather envelope on a slim gold shoulder chain looked lovely, she did miss having her day purse.
Leaning toward the mirror, she carefully lined her lips in a dark rose color, then dropped the tube back into the bag.
“Well, I’m ready,” she told herself. “Where is he?”
A quick glance at the clock behind her and she smiled ruefully. Only 7:20. Whatever was wrong with her? She hadn’t wanted to go on this... She refused to call it a date, even to herself. “So why am I ready and waiting ten minutes early?”
She caught her own eye in the mirror and looked away again quickly. Denise wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that question.
A rumble of thunder sounded outside and she winced. Looking heavenward, she muttered, “Give me a break, okay? No ram tonight?”
But the thunder continued grumbling until it rolled up in front of her house and stopped.
Frowning,
