“People who wear Louboutin shoes can afford a house anywhere they want.”
He certainly knew which buttons to push. “Those were a hand-me-down from my sister-in-law—they were too big for her. And despite your narrow-minded assumptions, I’m a far cry from wealthy. I own a run-down house which I’m gradually fixing up, and I’m very proud of it.”
“I bet those shoes are real handy when you’re pulling nails,” he drawled.
She gave him a slow, considering look. “Did I run over your dog? Insult your mama? Cast aspersions on your manhood? Why do you always do your best to piss me off?”
He laughed then, but it wasn’t a warming sound. “‘Cast aspersions’? Who the hell talks like that? And trust me, my manhood can stand up to any aspersions you care to cast, if you’ll pardon the expression.”
It only took her a moment to get his pun, and she growled low in her throat, turning her face toward the window.
“Did I embarrass you, Parker? I knew you were a prude, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”
She realized belatedly that he thought she was upset about his manhood standing up, and her ire rose. “What in God’s name makes you think I’m a prude? I was born and bred in New Orleans—no one could come from the Big Easy and remain a prude. I’ve seen enough things to shock a hardened criminal.” Hardened. Good God, how had she managed to come up with that? Everything was now sounding obscene to her.
His grin made it clear he hadn’t missed the double meaning, but thankfully he didn’t comment on it. “Yeah, but you went away to school in the North from the time you were ten years old. I’m guessing your family didn’t want their darling only daughter to be tainted by their shady business dealings.”
“Not exactly. My mother died when I was ten, and my father didn’t want to be bothered raising a little girl. I was always the odd one out in my family.” Her and Billy, she thought, but she wasn’t about to even mention his name out loud. “And what makes you think everyone who spent time in the North is a prude? I assume that would include you, since you clearly don’t belong in the South. You’re the very antithesis of a Southern gentleman.”
“No sipping mint juleps on the front porch or whupping slaves in the back forty. No, Parker, I’m no gentleman at all, least of all a Southern one. I grew up in Idaho.”
“I bet there are just as many prudes in Idaho. And I’m not a goddamn prude!” she added belatedly.
“Would you like me to tell you what a prude you are?” His voice was silky with a kind of menace. “You wouldn’t imagine the kinds of things I know about you. What you like, what you don’t like. What you’re willing to do, what you refuse to do. I know the name of every lover you’ve ever had.”
Ha! She could call his bluff on that one. The only lover she’d had, apart from her husband, Greg, was the fumbling college student who’d taken her virginity one unpleasant night up north, and even she had blanked on his name. He made it sound like he thought there were dozens.
“Name them all,” she taunted him, secure in her bluff. “Don’t leave out a single one of them.”
“That would be hard to do.” There was just the fainted caress of the word hard, and she ground her teeth. “Gregory Parker and Ricky Turnbull, who died in a car accident about five years ago, by the way. I realize you two had lost touch.”
She could feel the color drain away from her face. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She knew his mysterious organization had some of the most advanced intel-gathering abilities in the world. Of course he could find out anything he wanted to know. The question was, why did he want to know it?
The last thing she was going to do was ask him. She’d dug herself into a very uncomfortable hole, and she wasn’t going to make it worse. “Turn left up ahead,” she said abruptly. A thought struck her, and she decided, what was another foot or two? “How come you know all about my absolutely useless sexual history, and you don’t know where I live?”
“It’s your past I check on. Remy had already vetted your present, and I wasn’t particularly interested in the details.”
No, another foot or two in that hole was worse. “Then you can find the house on your own,” she said stubbornly, leaning back, prepared to ignore him. “Ask your friend Remy for the address.”
“Already got it.”
She wanted to beat her head against the dashboard in frustration, but she managed to keep her expression distant and stony. “Then we have nothing more to say to each other.”
“Nothing more,” he agreed.
Damn, her head hurt. She needed to get away from him, grab a couple of Tylenol to beef up the ibuprofen, and then retire to her dark bedroom with an ice pack. Assuming she could find her way to the bed without breaking her neck on the pile of lumber she had stacked in the hallway in preparation for reframing the back porch. So he knew she was lousy at sex and came from a family of criminals. Did he know she could frame a wall, tape and spackle drywall, do simple electricity and plumbing, and even manage a bit of finish carpentry? Of course not—he just wanted to know all the bad, stupid things about her.
Well, fine. The only bad, stupid thing she knew about him was that he was a royal bastard, and that was enough. As long as she kept away from him she’d be fine. There was only one problem with that plan. She didn’t want to.
It took her a moment to realize he’d already pulled up in front of the small house that was her pride and joy. He’d even turned off the car, and he was watching her out of hooded eyes. “You just going to sit there?” he said. “Or were you waiting for me to open your door for you? I thought we established I wasn’t a gentleman.”
“I never had any doubts,” she said, reaching for the door handle. To her horror he climbed out as well, slamming the door behind him, and she stared at him across the top of the Audi. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing you to your door.”
“Oh, good God,” she said crossly. “I’m home, I’m safe. Just go away—you’re making my headache worse.”
“My heart’s breaking for you,” he said, moving ahead of her up the front stairs that led to the narrow porch. New lumber gleamed from the places where she’d already replaced rotting floorboards, but he didn’t bother to look down and admire her work. Of course he didn’t. “I doubt that anyone was