Page 27 of One Bossy Date
She looked herself over, then nodded with a teasing smile. “I guess I can’t argue with that. In that case, I assumeyou’llbe wearing gray.” She narrowed her eyes on my dark-gray suit and pursed her lips thoughtfully. Damn, that was sexy. Then she lifted a finger. “You know what, I think you’d look absolutelydashingin a yellow suit.”
“Oh, you think?” I caught her gaze, smoothing my patterned chrome tie.
“Definitely.”
Something about her jesting tone ambushed me. I leaned forward against my knees, bringing my face closer to hers. She froze in place, her eyes widening slightly. When I finally spoke, my voice was deep and daring.
“How about a wager? At this dinner party, if I break character or somehow mess up, I’ll wear a yellow tie for a week.”
A giggle burst from her lips. “Okay. And if I break character? Please don’t say a kiss. That would be so cliché.”
Something in me perked up at her suggestion. What a kinky little twist. Not what I’d had in mind, but why not? It was more interesting than seeing her in a gray dress and neutral nail polish all week. I made a split-second decision. “If you break character,” with slow intent, I moved my gaze from her eyes to her lips, “you’ll owe me a make-out session.”
“Oh, my goodness!” She cackled, her head falling back. “Good one, mister.”
“I was being serious.”
She gasped. “Really?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“Are we talking a peck?”
“I’m not talking a peck. A real make-out session. With tongue.”
“No. We shouldn’t…”
“Why? Afraid you’re going to lose?” I challenged.
She stopped short as her cheeks burned red, and I noticed her breasts lifting in a fast rhythm as her breathing quickened. “Fine. If you’re so confident, let’s do it. I’m not going to lose. I can promise you that. Go shopping for that yellow tie, mister.”
“Nobody’s going to wear yellow ties here.” I held out my hand.
She held out her hand, too. “It’s a deal.”
My pulse kicked up. She was likely never one to back down from a challenge, but my confidence was definitely better than hers when it came to staying cool and in character.
And she knew that.
And she’d still agreed.
She shook my hand with a firm grip. Something about this woman intrigued me. She was unexpectedly delightful.
I wondered how far I could push her. How far she would allow me to push her.
“Okay. Next topic,” she said quickly, letting go of my hand and getting up to stand behind her chair, clearly to put some distance between us.
“How did we meet?” she asked. “That’s the first question anyone asks.” Fidgeting with her fingers, she paced from side to side, keeping her gaze on the tiled floor.
“How about the truth?” I suggested.
“Yeah, but sometimes the truth isn’t the best. Like in our case. We don’t have a meet-cute.”
“What’s that?”
She gave me a “Geez, men” stare. “You know, a sweet and charming first encounter between two people in movies. A meet-cute. We don’t have one.”
“It’s cute enough,” I insisted. “The truth is always the best. At the negotiation table and in real life. Less room for error. Less problems. We stick to as much of the truth as we can.” That’s one of the things Dad taught Dax and me.If you aren’t honest, it’ll come back and bite you in the ass.