Page 78 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
“You’re calling me a terrorist?”
“I’m calling your bluff.”
“I’m not bluffing.”
“Oh, yeah?” I rub my chin and give her a long and lingering once-over, calculating the odds of being stabbed depending on what I say next. There’s a butcher’s block of knives on the counter to her left that I’m pretty sure she’s been eyeballing during this conversation.
“So you don’t care if you ever kiss me again? You can totally live without my mouth on yours?” A hint of a smile lifts the corners of my lips. “Or any other parts of your body?”
Her cheeks faintly darken with color. Her chin lifts another inch in the air. “That’s right.”
I chuckle. “You used to be a better liar, darlin’. But okay. You’re on.”
She blinks, a little frown forming between her eyebrows. “I’m on?”
I shrug, turn back to the stove, and start to scrape out the burned bacon from the frying pan into the sink. Whistling cheerfully, I reach under the counter for the dish soap, then proceed to wash the frying pan, taking my time to scrub off all the little black bits, one ear trained behind me for a different kind of whistle, the sound the edge of a knife makes as it slices through the air toward the tender space between my shoulder blades.
That sound doesn’t come. By the time I’m finished with the pan, Mariana has settled into a chair at the table, legs crossed, fingers tapping, searing my face off with her eyes.
I smile at her.
She smiles back with the sharpness of a viper’s fangs. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Just cleanin’ up the mess, baby. It’s kinda my thing, cleanin’ up messes.”
If a man could be struck dead from a look, I’d already be six feet under.
“Funny,” she says lightly. “And here I thought your thing was causing blindness with your teeth. How much work have you had on those chompers? That shade of white must’ve cost a fortune. They’re as snowy as a unicorn’s flank.”
I make spokesmodel hands at my smile. “These old things? Oh no. These are bona fide, baby. I never even had braces.”
She makes a face like she’s sucking on a lemon wedge. “What about that nose? And that jaw you’re always parading around like it should be chopping a cord of wood? I’ve seen axes with softer edges. There’s a history of cosmetic surgery there, right?”
I mouth You wish and stroll over to the fridge, where I open the door and stand peering in. “You feel like breakfast or lunch?” I ask over my shoulder. “It’s kinda brunch time, which is why I went with bacon—though really, bacon’s apropos for any meal on account of it bein’ so delicious—but I’ve got fixin’s for sandwiches, omelets, pasta, crepes—”
“Crepes?” she repeats loudly.
I turn and look at her, glaring at me like a warlord from the kitchen table. Blinking innocently, I say, “I knew I was gonna have a guest from Paris, so I stocked up.” My lips twitch, but I try very hard not to smile. I’m only marginally successful. “Got escargot, too. You want some of those? Not really my thing, but I figure with you bein’ French and all”—I add emphasis on the word French—“you’d enjoy ’em.”
She flattens her hands over the tabletop and exhales. I imagine plumes of white frost emanating from her nostrils, like the smoke from dry ice, and suck in my cheeks to keep from bursting into laughter.
“No, thank you,” she replies, in a voice like brandished swords.
“Okay. I’ll surprise you then, how ’bout that?”
“For a change,” she mutters under her breath.
Now who’s the sarcastic one?
I set about making brunch and ignoring the waves of hostility pulsing at me from all angles. I’m whipping eggs and milk with a fork when I hear, “So where are you keeping the diamond, anyway?”
“Ha! Wouldn’t you like to know?” I keep on whipping, then am struck by an idea. I turn to her with a smile, which she curls her lip at. “I’ll make you a bargain.”
Tap, tap, tap goes her index finger on my kitchen table. “This should be interesting.”
“Tell me your last name and where you’re from, and I’ll tell you where I’m keeping the diamond.” When she hesitates a moment too long, I remind her, “You decided to trust me, remember?”
“That was before I decided I wanted to kick you in the balls,” she shoots back.
