Page 27 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
There was a loaded pause. “Oh. Lavender roses are your favorite.”
Now she sounded disappointed for some reason. His frown grew deeper.
“Actually, I love all colors of roses. My mother was an incredible gardener; we had what seemed like acres of roses covering the grounds of our property when I was growing up.”
There was another pause, this one longer. Christian imagined her thinking on the other end of the line, worrying her bottom lip like she did when preoccupied. He wished he could see her face, be near her so he could judge her reactions. He wished he could press his fingers to her throat again and feel that swift, hot throbbing against his skin.
“By the way you say, ‘grounds’, I’m guessing we’re not talking about a little country cottage here.”
Her voice had now turned from disappointed to wry, faintly acidic. He’d never thought he could irritate someone so much in three short sentences. “I’m sorry, this conversation doesn’t seem to be going the way I’d hoped. Have I said something to offend you?”
She exhaled, a pretty, feminine sound that was heavy with some unnamed emotion. “No, of course not. Ignore me. I shouldn’t be allowed to speak to normal people, my bad manners are practically contagious. The roses were beautiful. Really, thank you again.”
Christian’s voice came very low. “You think I’m normal? Let me assure you, September, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
“Well, your distractingly pretty looks aside—”
“Distractingly pretty?” Christian felt vaguely insulted. She’d called him pretty before too—did she mean she thought he looked effeminate? Jesus, this conversation was getting entirely derailed.
She didn’t even have the decency to sound apologetic. “You are the prettiest man I’ve ever seen, and that’s the ugly truth, Fancypants. You must be aware of how you look by now, you’ve been living with that face for…”
“Thirty-one years,” he said between gritted teeth. “And how long have you been cultivating that devastating charm of yours, Miss Jones?”
She chuckled. “Twenty-four years. Perfected it, haven’t I?”
“To a science.”
She chuckled again, then sighed. “Okay, truce. I promise not to call you pretty anymore if you promise not to send flowers again.”
“You don’t like flowers? Are you allergic?”
“Yes, and no. I love flowers, especially roses. My mother was an amazing gardener, too.” Her tone grew light, suspiciously offhand. “She taught me all the meanings of different flowers. The meanings of their different colors, too.”
A slow, spreading grin took over Christian’s face. Now we’re getting to the bottom of it, he thought. “That’s very interesting. We seem to have much in common, Ember. My own mother taught me the exact same thing.”
The silence from the other end of the phone actually burned. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.
“So—is this—is this a business call, or—to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
Stammering her way through it, she sounded equal parts horrified, shocked and utterly confused. God, she was adorable. He knew her face was aflame with heat right now and he wanted to reach through the phone and caress her red cheeks. “Both business and pleasure I think. I’d like to invite you to dinner so we can finalize the deal on Casino Royale.”
“We don’t…we don’t need to have dinner to do that. I can quote you a price over the phone and have it delivered—”
“But then I won’t get to see you,” he said abruptly, his voice very low. He’d gone back and forth over it in his head a hundred times, and hadn’t been able to talk himself out of seeing her again. Just one last time, and then he’d be done with this nonsense for good.
He let it hang there for a moment, giving her space, giving her a chance to say no, though it was all he could do not to find some way to force her to say yes. Ignoring that faint, ringing alarm in the back of his mind that whispered stupid, danger, stay away, he waited.
Finally after a long, tense silence, Ember said, “All right then. When?”
“Tonight,” he said instantly. “I’ll pick you up in an hour—”
“No, I can’t tonight. I’m busy. I have a date.”
That brought him up short. “A date,” he repeated, surprised how much it angered him.
“With Asher,” she said innocently, and he heard her smile through the line.
Oh, the little minx.
