Page 64 of The Sun & Her Burn
It took only a moment for that hard gleam to descend over her eyes, though.
“Of course not. Only, I never suspected you would be the type of man who has a midlife crisis and dates someone young enough to be his daughter,” she rejoined coolly, unconsciously rubbing a finger over the enormous diamond ring on her left hand.
“Twelve years old is a little young to be fathering a child, don’t you think?” he asked acerbically, all joy gone. In its place was the British Lord, and even Savannah, with all her pretense of nobility, was not blue blood enough to stand up to that.
Savannah’s knuckles were white around the grip of her Chanel bag.
“I did not venture over here to fight with you,” she managed, each word clipped. “I came because I wanted to say what you obviously did not care to hear over the phone. I am here, Tate and I, if you need anything. I heard about the…unsavory chatter around town, and I wanted to lend my services.”
What kind of woman, I thought,said something like “lend my services” to their ex-husband?
Staring at them both, I could imagine how the marriage dissolved.
Their defense mechanisms were too similar, their baggage expressed too coldly, to ever breach that void between them.
“I have no need of your services,” Adam promised, dismissing Savannah as if she were no less than a hovering server, turning slightly but obviously in his chair so that he was wholly focused on me. “As you can see, I have everything I need.”
“It was lovely to see you again, Savannah,” I said kindly, even though I was already leaning toward Adam, enclosing us in a little bubble of our own making.
“Likewise,” she said quietly, almost wistfully. I could feel her gaze on the side of my face like a scalpel for a long moment before she finally clipped away on her high heels.
Adam blew out a long exhale when she was gone, but his shoulders were still up near his ears.
I pinched my lower lip between my teeth for a second before saying, “Right. I’m afraid sushi is ruined for me now. How do you feel about fried foods?”
Adam stared at me, his eyes roving my face as if searching for something elusive. Finally, the corner of his mouth curled.
“Favorably. Just don’t tell my agent.”
I crinkled my nose. “The same agent who had what looked like chow mein spilled down the front of her blazer last time I saw her?”
He laughed again, a little smoother than before as if he was starting to understand the practice again.
And I thought again what an absolute idiot Savannah must have been to let him go.
15
ADAM
Linnea took us to Malibu Seafood, a small, no-frills restaurant and market located along the water, where the freshly caught seafood could be smelled from the parking lot. I let her order for us both, chatting away with the person behind the till as if they’d been best friends for years. In the wake of seeing my ex-wife, I usually felt off-kilter, both irritated and filled with a nostalgic-tinged yearning. I could never quite figure out if I actually missed her, or just how simple life had seemed before our marriage ended and I was left to face my demons alone.
But now, watching Linnea in this unassuming seafood joint wearing a gorgeous dress, her hands animatedly flying through the air as she chatted away with the other girl, I felt oddly tranquil.
Perhaps because, for the first time in ten years, someone other than Chaucer had stood up to Savannah for me.
It was a rare thing to see anyone stand toe-to-toe with the imperial Savannah Richardson, and I had not expected it ofLinnea, who was usually so easygoing and bright as an unfiltered sunbeam.
But I could admit that it was wildly attractive, seeing that icy edge of her sharp tongue, the confidence she felt in touching me—claiming me—even though this was all supposed to be a ruse.
It had felt so real in those moments, as if we were a team.
As if to underscore my point, Linnea sashayed over to my side and immediately dug her shoulder under my arm so I was forced to wrap it over her shoulders. The intimacy made something swell in my throat, and I found it difficult to breathe. Noticing the green-eyed looks of several men in the restaurant did nothing to alleviate the surge of possession and wistfulness that locked horns inside me.
“You’ll love it here,” Linnea declared for the second time, pressing a hand to her flat belly. “Not that Nobu isn’t delicious, but does anything beat fried foods?”
“They seem to have other options than the fryer,” I pointed out dryly.
She wrinkled her nose. “Just trust me, the fish and chips and fried prawns are worthy of worship.”
