Page 20 of Dating the Rebel
But that was fine with her.
That flinch of pain she felt, though, reminded her of something else—her duty to her clients so that they wouldn’t get hurt. And Grant was too much of a heartbreaker to not hurt them.
“No, you didn’t pass,” she informed him.
His cocky grin didn’t even slip. Instead he chuckled in arrogant amusement. “Really? That wasn’t the best date you ever had?”
The best sex—definitely. But that wasn’t what he’d asked. So she shook her head. “Not even close.”
He sucked in a breath, and finally that wicked grin slipped away from his lips. “How can you say that? You came—”
She held her hand up to his mouth, stemming his words, before the doorman could overhear him. “You brought me to a loud club after I told you all I wanted was a big glass of wine. A glass of wine I never got, by the way.”
“I had it delivered to the hotel room,” he reminded her, his lips moving against her fingers until she jerked her tingling hand away. “You could have had the entire bottle if you’d wanted it, but wine wasn’t what you wanted then.”
She’d wanted him. Heaven help her, she still did.
“It had gone flat by then,” she said. “And the food was soggy and cold.” She shook her head. “So, no, it wasn’t a good date at all.”
“Miranda,” he said.
“And now you’re arguing with me on the street,” she said. “So it’s getting even worse.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. After uttering a shaky sigh, he said, “You obviously just want to get rid of me now. So I’ll let you go. But we need to talk about this.”
She shook her head now. “Nothing more to say. You had your audition. You didn’t pass.”
He leaned down then, until his mouth was just a breath from hers. “Let me try again...” he murmured. Then he skimmed his lips across hers, nipping gently at her bottom one, pulling it apart from her top one so that he could dip his tongue inside her mouth.
She gasped and let him deepen the kiss, but she fought hard to keep her arms at her sides, so that she wouldn’t reach for him and clutch his head to hers. Instead she stepped back until their mouths separated. “Give it up, Grant,” she advised him. “This is one game you’ve lost.”
Because she had no doubt that was all he’d been doing—playing some game with her. And she was far too busy for games, even ones that had given her as much pleasure as he had the night before.
Before he could stop her again, she rushed toward the door that opened for her. And as she passed the doorman, she murmured in French, “Ne le laisse pas entrer...” before passing the man a folded bill.
He nodded. “Oui, Mademoiselle Fox.” And he closed the door behind her.
As she’d requested, he wouldn’t let Grant into the building. But it was already too late.
She’d already let the man inside her; she’d let him get to her in a way nobody had in years, if ever...
She couldn’t let that happen again.
Grant strolled into the office with a nonchalance he did not feel. This was his office—off the hangar at the airport in London. And it was already late afternoon, so hopefully his sister had left for the day.
Had Miranda called Blair?
She must have; they talked all the time. They told each other everything. She must have told Blair that she’d slept with her brother.
His hope that she was already gone was dashed when he heard her voice. But Blair paid him no attention, her focus on the cell phone clutched in her hand. But it wasn’t Miranda to whom she was talking.
“I can’t wait to see you, too,” she nearly cooed into the phone. “I miss you so much, Teo.”
He groaned. “How? You two are barely apart.” But he knew now, after last night. The minute he’d left Miranda in Monaco, he’d started missing her. No. He’d started missing her before that, when she shut him down outside her apartment building.
Why had she shut him down?
Was the night before all she’d wanted from him? All that hot sex?
