“I’m trying to be serious. Want some of this delicious melted ice cream?”
“Sure, why not.” She pauses, beautiful blue eyes penetrating mine when I put some liquid between her pretty, kissable lips.
The moment lingers and we both lean in, neither of us thinking straight.
Suddenly, a bit of the devil hits her face as she tries to steal the spoon but I hold on tight. I like feeding her.
“You had a call from Dahlyla Stevenson. What did she want?”
She pouts, mouth pursed up real cute-like. “Nothing, really. She heard I was in an accident and wanted to make sure I was okay.”
“Did she mention your husband’s insurance policy?” I dab at the side of her mouth with the paper napkin as her face twitches.
“No.”
“Do you know why the money was held up in court yesterday?”
She pales, checks to see if anyone is in the room, and whispers, “Shit. I know this is going to sound insane but Peter is alive and I don’t know how I know. Does that make sense?”
“Tell me more about the dream.” I put the last of the ice cream in her mouth.
Then, I blow the paper jacket off a straw, place it in the carton of milk and hold it to her lips. She sips, blushes, and looks up.
“I really am sorry I propositioned you. That issonot like me.”
“I’m not. Drink up.”
She smiles. “I bet someone like you has had plenty of offers.”
Is she flirting? I must really be out of practice because I’m not sure.
“Maybe, but yours was definitely the best.” Capturing her gaze, I tuck a piece of silky blond hair behind an ear.
Careful, man, she’s eating at your heart. You could end up like Slate.
Damn the warning. For once, I want to be the bad guy, the one who goes after what he wants, disregarding all laws and caution.
I take her hand in mine, my cock cramming against the zipper of my pants. “Tell me, who is Sienna Giles.”
“What do you want to know?” She sips noisily on the straw, grins, and makes bubbles until they foam over the top.
I haven’t seen anyone enjoy milk so much since grade school. “Why did you marry Peter Olafson, for starters.”
“Seriously. You too? Didn’t you read all the tabloids… No, I suppose you wouldn’t… More of a Wall Street Journal guy, I’m guessing.”
I nod, amused at her assessment.
“There really isn’t much to tell.” She glances up at the door where a nurse pops her head in.
“Need anything Ms. Giles? Can I take your tray?”
The woman in blue scrubs glares at me, then to the door where Jack stands guard. “Visiting time is almost over, gentlemen.”
“I think she wants you to go.” Sienna places the milk carton on the tray, her mouth pursed in a little frown.
“Do you want me to?” The words leave my lips before I realize how needy I sound.
“No, please stay. But you’re not my lawyer anymore so don’t get any ideas, okay?”
