Page 7 of Duke It Out
I pause for a moment and look up at him. “Go on?”
“No names, no pack drill.”
“No names?”
“Not literally,” he says dryly as we take the last available table tucked in the corner of the crowded bar.
Once he’s ordered, I sit forward, my chin balanced on a fingertip, and look at him, my skin prickling with anticipation.
“So,” I say.
God, that faint smile is sexy. It barely lifts the corners of his mouth but the lines at the sides of his eyes fan out, as if amused.
“Rory,” he says, putting out a hand and shaking mine briefly. I feel a jolt of desire which pins me to the chair and almost takes my breath away, so much so that I half expect to see sparks shooting out from my fingers as I pull them away.
“I thought you said no names?”
“I said not literally.” He fixes me with a level gaze, and heat rises in my cheeks. Thank God, it’s dark in here. I shift in my chair and pull at the neckline of my dress, looking up to see his eyes have dropped to my cleavage. He notices me noticing and looks away with a half-smile.
“I’m Edie.”
“Edie,” he repeats in his low voice. “That’s a very pretty name.”
“D’you think?” I don’t know what to do with myself. “It’s my grandma’s name. I always hated it.”
“Are you always this terrible at accepting compliments?”
That makes me laugh. The server puts our drinks down on the table and I lace my fingers around my glass. “I’m British. Worse than that, I’m Scottish. You know we’re incapable of taking a compliment without turning into a joke.”
“I do.” He sips his whisky and looks at me steadily.
“So, Rory. Do you live here?” I sound like I’m interviewing him for a job.
“Yes and no.”
It’s my turn to raise a brow.
“It’s complicated,” he says, with a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Snapping a pretzel, he offers me half.
“That’s not an answer,” I say, taking it from him, my fingers brushing his. “That’s what men say when they mean they’ve got a secret wife in Connecticut and an apartment they swear is just for work.”
His expression is cool, but his eyes are anything but. “No wife, no secret apartment.”
“A lover in Paris?” I tease him.
“A trail of ruined women in my wake.”
I feel a prickle of heat creeping up my spine and try to regain the upper hand.One night onlyEdie is a hell of a lot braver than my usual self.
“Oh, you think you’re going to ruin me?” I ask, realizing a second later what I’ve said.
His gaze locks onto mine, slow and deliberate. I feel the shift between us – the heavy and electric air.
“That comes later.” I catch the scent of his aftershave – something subtle and woody. It smells expensive.
And then he sits back, casually. “Now, let’s talk about something else before you start accusing me of industrial espionage.”
I mirror him, sitting back and folding my arms, casting aglance over his body for a moment. “You do give off a bit of on-a-watchlist energy.”
