She raised her eyebrows. She couldn't be hearing him right. "How long have you been going to places like this that you don't know what to order?"
"I don't see why it matters where I am. I'm not going to drink something that tastes like poison." He shrugged. "Besides, since when were you the first name in protocol for places like this? Have you ever even been here before?"
She tilted her lips to the side, trying to decide how much to say. In the end, she resolved that nothing was always a safe answer. "This place is swanky. Very elite."
"Very good drinks, though."
"I can't see why that matters to a Vodka cranberry man." She grinned at him and to her surprise he smiled back.
Her heart beat into her throat and she swallowed hard. What was it about that smile that reminded her of the real reason why she was here? Or was it just the way he looked in general? All unkempt and powerful and...
She breathed deep. Maybe if she just focused on the silence, she wouldn't have to think about anything else. Like those damn dark eyes of his.
"This is one hell of a date," she said.
He rose his eyebrows "Please don't mistake this for a date."
She swallowed hard. Okay, so talking through the silence was also not an optio
n here. Awesome.
"Right." She nodded, then sipped at the dregs of her drink until they made a horrible sucking sound.
"Tell me why you're so interested in Franco Del Rossi."
“Tell me why you’re not.” She shot back.
“You know the answer to that question already, but I don’t know—“
"Ah, but you don't need to know that,” she tipped her glass toward him. “And it's none of your business."
He clicked his glass to hers. “You can take the girl out of the office, but you can’t take the secrets out of the girl.”
“What can I say? I’m a woman of mystery.” She grinned, then bit it back as quickly as she could. What was she doing? Flirting? With this man?
And why had she even come here? Staring into his eyes, she knew he must be wondering the same thing.
For Franco.
She reminded herself, but then Brooks closed his lips around his straw and sucked and a part o her wondered what those lips might feel like in other places.
Stupid. Snap out of this. You’re better than this. He can’t control you.
She took a long pull on her melon ball, then stirred the straw in her now-empty glass.
"You need another one?" He pointed to the cup.
She shook her head. In places like this, a lady never ordered a second drink in the same hour as her first. "No, um, I think I'm good."
"You're nervous, though," he said.
She expected his concern to be a mocking one, but if the look in his eyes was anything to go on, he was being genuine for once.
Interesting.
He didn't want her to be nervous. And was that out of concern for her or was it just another sales tactic? A way to finally land his deal?
"Why do you do that?" she asked, "why do you just say things so matter-of-factly? You don't know how I'm feeling. You don't know—"