Page 25 of Dating the Rebel
He was probably even more averse to it than she was. If he hadn’t had his parents’ example of an unhappy marriage, he would have had plenty to pick from among the friends he’d made in the service and in the world of professional gambling.
Neither was a lifestyle that fostered healthy relationships, though. Which was probably partly why he’d chosen those careers. Or had they chosen him?
“Did the thought of marrying me scare you into leaving me alone?” Miranda asked him.
Realizing he’d fallen silent, he chuckled. “I don’t scare that easily.” Unfortunately neither did she, though, or she would have heeded one of his many, many threats to leave his sister alone before now.
“I don’t, either!” she said, her voice sharp with defensiveness. Her body was tense, too, as if she was on edge.
Was she as sexually frustrated as he was? He doubted it. She could have called up any other guy to satisfy her. He only wanted her for some reason.
Maybe the novelty of it all? Once they had another night together, he would get over her. He would realize she wasn’t any more special than any other lover he’d had.
But first he had to get her to give him another chance. So he goaded her, “You sure seem scared to me, or you’d let me take you out again.”
She shook her head.
“Chicken,” he teased. “But then, if I was you, I guess I’d be scared, too, that I would fall for me.”
Now she laughed. “And you wonder why I won’t let you join the service...”
“I do wonder,” he said.
“You’re an arrogant smart-ass.”
“Yeah?”
She laughed again before spinning her chair around. She pulled her purse from the credenza then stood up and turned toward him. “Okay,” she said with a sigh of resignation.
“Okay?” He tensed. “You’re letting me join?” That really wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her.
She shook her head. “I’m giving you another audition. Prove to me that you can be the perfect date.” Her eyes sparkled with the challenge that she obviously thought he would fail.
She might have won the first hand, but he was taking this one and the whole damn game.
CHAPTER NINE
HOWTHEHELLhad he done it? He’d found the perfect rooftop restaurant from which to watch the sunset over the water. He’d found the perfect bottle of wine, a sauvignon blanc chilled and crisp.
And the food...
Soft mozzarella sprinkled with fresh basil-covered sweet slices of tomatoes. Chicken and shrimp followed with creamy risotto and truffles.
And just when she’d thought she was too full to eat another bite, the waiter brought out white-and dark-chocolate-dipped strawberries and champagne.
Grant lifted his flute and clinked it against her glass. “To the perfect date...”
He was smug. He knew.
And she was too happy to lie. So, the bubbles bursting on her tongue, she sighed in ecstasy and nodded in agreement. But she didn’t let him take all the credit. “Who helped you?” she asked. “Blair?”
“I already told you that I haven’t said anything to her about us.”
So that left her sisters. Regina wouldn’t have helped him, but Tabitha was as hopeless a romantic as their lovesick mother. “My backstabbing receptionist...” she murmured. Tabitha had to have been the one who’d let him into the office, too.
She didn’t know whether to be furious with her sister or grateful to her.
“She was being helpful,” Grant defended his coconspirator. “She said you’ve been really stressed out and needed a good, relaxing evening.”
