“Would you like to order anything?”
She shook her head.
“Are you certain?”
“I don’t drink when I’m on the job.”
“Then a glass of water or—-” He gestured to his glass of pink lemonade. “Perhaps something like this?”
She had to ask. “Is that really yours?”
“If I say it is?”
“I’d say it’s just your way of getting women to think you’re cute.”
He chuckled. “You are even more entertaining than I thought.”
“And you,” she returned sweetly, “are more annoying than I expected.”
“Such strong words.” He gazed at Ilse under hooded lids, murmuring, “Every hatred is caused by love.”
Ilse leaned back, stunned.Ongelooflijk!
“You recognize the quote,” he observed.
“Thomas Aquinas,” she supplied warily.
“Impressive.”
She stiffened. “You think people in my line of work don’t read?”
Unperturbed by her tone, he answered lazily, “To be honest,schatje, I believe most people your age don’t even know who Thomas Aquinas is.”
Oh.He was probably right, and she said grudgingly, “You have a point.”
“Speaking of your age—-” He paused. “May I ask how old you are?”
Seeing no reason to lie, she answered him truthfully. “23.”
“Ah.” A faint grimace crossed his lips. “I’m 32. Is that too old, do you think?”
When she only allowed herself to shrug in answer, he chuckled again, and Ilse hated the way her toes curled inside her sneakers.Ongelooflijk!She couldn’t even remember the last time someone from the opposite sex had made her feel this...thismuch.
“It just occurred to me I’ve neglected to introduce myself.” Pulling out a card from his wallet, he handed it to her, murmuring wickedly, “Jaak de Konigh, at your service.”
Ilse’s toes curled harder, the last three words making her recall the porn films she had watched, which showed all the ways a man couldservicea woman.
Lieve heer!
Dear Lord!
He really was bad news, the way he made her imagine such shameful thoughts—-
The import of his name sunk in a moment too late, and her gaze flew to him, Ilse demanding under her breath, “You’re ade Konigh?” It was the most famous surname in Netherlands, and the fact left her even more bewildered and suspicious. This man had royal Dutch blood running in his veins, for heaven’s sake! Why was he even wasting time with her?
“De Konigh is my last name, yes,” he acknowledged, and after a pause, he asked silkily, “Does this please you?” When Ilse only allowed herself another shrug, his gaze became shrewdly contemplative, and she quickly willed herself to remain expressionless.
“Is it only me you distrust,” he asked suddenly, “or men in general?” When she started to shrug, he shook his head, saying in a soft, cajoling voice, “You may be honest with me,schatje.You have my word as a de Konigh that I will never hold the truth against you.”
