‘What?’
‘I asked where we were going to eat.’
‘Oh. Just an Italian restaurant I frequent. Five minutes away.’ A quick shift of his eyes gathered in brown hands resting languidly on her lap and crossed legs. ‘Should make a change from staying in.’ He realised when he drew in a shuddering breath that his iron self-control was slipping. ‘So tell me about what you do in Panama,’ he said, steering the conversation into safe waters that might drown out his wildly soaring thought patterns. ‘You never mentioned what you do in the evenings. I don’t suppose there’s much happening.’
‘Depends what you call “not much happening”,’ Destiny told him. ‘If you’re asking whether there’s much by way of expensive restaurants, clubs and hectic night life, then, no, it’s the most boring place on the face of the earth.’
‘A simple answer would have been enough.’ He pulled sharply into a vacant space that had suddenly become free then turned to face her, one hand lingering on the gear lever between them. ‘No need to launch into a biting attack.’
Destiny stared at him for a moment and it occurred to her that she was never sarcastic. Now and again, she and Henri would have little ribbing sessions with one another, and they were accustomed to dissecting the magazines that accumulated dust in one of the storage cabins with cutting jokiness, but that was as far as it went. Callum had asked her once before where she had dredged her sarcasm from, but in all truth it was a talent that had only been brought to light with the arrival of the man now sitting next to her, watching her with those cool, disturbing blue eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised.
‘Are you?’ He didn’t give her time to answer, instead twisting round to get out of the car, and she did the same.
‘I feel very sorry for whatever man is in your life,’ he remarked, holding the door open for her, and she snapped back,
‘Funnily enough, I’m only sarcastic when I’m around you.’
‘I’ve had a variety of effects on women in my lifetime,’ he murmured into her ear, ‘but sarcasm was never one of them.’
Destiny refused to collaborate in his sneering at her expense. Instead, she held her head high and strode ahead of him into the restaurant, for once not feeling overawed by her surroundings.
For starters, she wasn’t dressed like someone who had accidentally forgotten the basic rules of fashion.
For another thing, she was so conscious of the man behind her, talking to the head waiter, that she barely noticed her surroundings, never mind how she fitted into them.
She was aware, however, that more than one set of eyes had swivelled in her direction, and she felt a little jolt of pleasure at the minor sensation she had aroused. Even the waiter, as usual a good head shorter than her, was doing his best to hide his interest.
‘Your skirt is so damned short—’ he leaned across the table as soon as they were seated and looked at her through narrowed eyes ‘—that even the waiter’s staring.’
‘It was recommended to me by the sales lady,’ Destiny pointed out coolly. ‘She didn’t appear to think that it was too short.’
‘Well, she should be shot. If you belonged to me, I wouldn’t let you leave the house in that get-up.’
He sat back as they were handed two oversized menus, giving her a few seconds for her simmer to reach near boiling point.
‘If I belonged to you? If I belonged to you? People aren’t possessions!’ She stared at him and he gazed back at her, his dark brows meeting in a frown.
‘Any woman that was mine would be my possession, body and soul.’
‘And how would you feel if she felt the same way about you? That she wanted you to dress down because you looked too sexy in what you wear?’
‘Are you trying to tell me that you think I’m sexy?’ he asked, turning her well-meaning point on its head and giving her a slow, amused smile.
She muttered something under her breath and resorted to the relative safety of her menu, behind which she could hide. Why ever had she thought that these huge menus were a bit of a joke when in fact they served a very useful purpose as shield from a nerve-jangling dinner companion?
‘Well, you still haven’t answered my question. Do you?’ He pulled down the menu with one finger and peered at her over the top of it, his amused grin much broader now.
‘You’re an attractive enough man,’ she told him—because an outright lie would have probably turned the amused grin into a guffaw of disbelieving laughter. ‘If you go for your type of look.’
‘My type of look?’