with her.
He nudged aside his crystal glass. “Good to see you again, Sarah.”
“Oh, so you do remember me.” Acrimony dripped from her every word. “Not that you’ve so much as said boo to me since coming to town five months ago. That leads me to wonder. Are you too good to speak with your old friends these days?”
Surprise jolted him. How odd that she was mad about a rebuff, rather than the factory. Or at least that she’d found the slight important enough to bring up.
A flash of pride shot through him to register that far up on her radar after all this time. “That’s a lot of animosity to carry around for a high school sweetheart.”
“This isn’t about the past.” She jabbed the table with her pen. “It’s about the present, how you’re acting now. I’m surprised you have the guts to come here and casually knock back some cocktails after what you’ve done.”
“It’s lunchtime. Everybody’s gotta eat, Kitten.”
Her mouth went tight as he used his nickname from their past. They’d told the world his nickname for her had come because she looked so much like her grandmother—little kitten to Grandma Kat. But in reality, he’d given Sarah the label because of her temper—and because she’d left scratch marks on his back during a make-out session. And of course there was also that sweet way she purred in the back of her throat when he …
Rafe adjusted his tie. While they’d never gone all the way, they’d experimented plenty with other means for taking the edge off their sexual frustration. His thumb rubbed absently against two fingers and he could swear he still felt the silky slickness from bringing Sarah to completion.
Nostrils flaring, he tapped her notepad. “What’s the lunch special today?”
“You’re really going to pretend nothing’s wrong? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. From what I hear you’re so heartless now, you eat puppies and babies for breakfast.” Her voice rose with each word, until two ladies in tennis skirts peered at her over their menus. “The way you’re shutting down the plant, you’re lucky nobody’s poisoned your meals. Yet.”
“Guess I’ll have to hire a food taster.” He’d forgotten about her sharp tongue, but rather enjoyed it now. Not many stood up to him these days. Most folks were too busy kissing his ass in hopes of currying favor.
Too fast, his mind zipped back to other ways she used to drive him crazy with that very same smart mouth of hers.
“It shouldn’t be too tough to find a sucker willing to work for you since over half the town will be out of a job soon, thanks to you. Hey …” She snapped her fingers, her smile theatrically bright. “Maybe you have an application handy so I can pass it along to my parents since they’ll undoubtedly be first to get the ax.”
She had a lot of nerve chewing him out. He’d worked his tail off making something of himself after leaving this place. Every step of the way he’d envisioned riding back into town on his proverbial white horse and freeing Sarah from poverty’s grip. Great plan. Except she’d quickly shifted her undying love to another guy, a man she’d married. Sure, the guy had died three years ago, but that didn’t change the past.
So yeah, he’d ignored her since returning to Vista del Mar. Why the hell would he think she even wanted to speak to him now?
Gasping for air, Sarah paused her tirade, but not for long. “What? Nothing to say for yourself? You may have fooled some people at first with all your phony philanthropy, setting up a literacy charity in your mother’s name. Hannah’s Hope.” She shook her head. “But you didn’t trick me with your tax write-off attempt to get people to lower their guards. Is your need for revenge against Ronald Worth and his cronies really important enough to destroy so many lives?”
He held his peace for the moment, surprised—stunned even—to be called on the carpet so openly, so publicly. Although frankly, most of her accusations were true. He had come back to town for revenge. He was about to shut the factory and make a huge windfall.
Sure, the factory could be viable, but the effort and expense … No. He hadn’t come this far in the work world by being a sap. And hell, yes, he was enjoying rubbing Ronald Worth’s nose in every bit of the success.
But Sarah missed the mark in a huge and unforgivable way when she mocked anything to do with his mother. Anger steamed slowly. “Business is business, Kitten.”
“Do not call me that.” Her knuckles went white as she clenched her pen tighter.
Her ire fueled his own. “But that name holds such fond memories for me. Remember the way you—”
“Argh!” She stomped her foot. “I never thought you would turn into a smug, stuck-up snob.”
“Why don’t you speak a little louder? I don’t think they heard you over at table ten.”
“Why do you care what they think? What does it matter to you if I lose my job?” She plowed ahead with her rant, until the two women at the next table gave up all pretense of studying the menu and listened openly. “Do you even remember what it’s like to work for minimum wage? To live paycheck to paycheck, all the time knowing you could lose your car or worse if a case of the flu keeps you out of work for a week?”
Conversations dwindled to a stop around the club. Not even a tink of silverware sounded, only muffled clanks from the kitchen.
“Sarah, perhaps we should talk this out somewhere more private.”
“Oh, so now you want to speak to me? After five months of ignoring my existence? After fourteen years of not even a postcard when you left for L.A. after graduation? Well, screw you. I’m so sorry if hearing the truth makes you uncomfortable.”
He’d opened his mouth to take her down a peg … then the absurdity of it all hit him. He was renowned for making top corporate raiders quake in their Gucci loafers, but fearless Sarah took him on without a wince.
A laugh rumbled low in his chest, rising and rolling out to fill the exclusive dining room.
“Damn it, Rafe, don’t you dare laugh at me.” Her face turned redder.
And he laughed harder.
A man with a “manager” pin on his jacket and harried look on his face wove his way around a table toward them. “Is there some kind of problem here, Mr. Cameron?”
“Not at all,” Rafe said, trying his best to tamp down the laughter if not the urge to smile. “Ms. Richards and I were just catching up.”
The manager turned to Sarah. “Ms. Richards, please do your ‘catching up’ on your own time.”
“Of course. I’ll be sure to keep my voice down, sir,” she said tightly before facing Rafe again. “My apologies for popping your eardrums. Could I start you off with something to drink?”
She looked about as sorry as a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar—after she’d eaten her fill.
“No apologies needed,” Rafe answered, and couldn’t resist adding, “Kitten.”
Her eyes narrowed. Her chest heaved with a deep inhale, bringing
