He says it like I’m supposed to be impressed, and I concentrate very hard on channeling the same bored expression he reserved for the artwork. “Miles,” I repeat, adding a slight sneer to my voice. “You having a good time here tonight, Miles?”
“Uh—yes, excellent.” He tugs at his tie and glances around me at Lisa. “And you?”
“Splendid,” Lisa says, nestling up closer. I slide an arm around her, glad she’s not pissed at me. Glad she’s not having to confront this guy alone.
“Is your lovely wife here with you tonight, Miles?” I ask.
He blanches and shoots a nervous glance at Lisa. “Uh?—”
“Gwendolyn,” she supplies, like he might have forgotten. “Such a sweetheart,” Lisa adds as she gives me a smile I can’t quite read. “President of the Women’s Charity League. And a wonderful tennis player.”
“She sounds terrific,” I say. “I think it’s important for a man to respect and appreciate his wife, don’t you, Miles? Your beautiful, charitable, tennis-playing wife?”
“Um, yes—yes, certainly.” Miles appears to regret crossing the room. Like if he could hit reverse on his Gucci loafers, he’d back his ass up so fast he’d leave streaks on the carpet.
“Glad we agree, Miles.” I step a bit closer, like I’m sharing a secret. Like this dickwad and I are old pals. “Not all guys feel the same about honoring their partners. And I’m of the opinion that men who’d cheat deserve to be dragged through brambles by a fast-moving tractor, then kicked in the kidneys until they piss blood.” I chuckle like I’m kidding, but I’m not. “You feel me?”
“Uh, yeah.” His throat clicks as he swallows. “Totally.”
“Good.” I clap him on the shoulder and smile with my teeth bared. “I’m glad we had this talk, aren’t you?”
He nods and takes a few steps back, spotting his escape route. “Of course,” he says, still backing away. “It was great to see you again, Lisa. And good to meet you—uh—Dex.”
“Dax,” I tell him, though I’m betting he damn well knows that.
I’m also betting Lisa won’t be getting any more business from the guy. I turn to face her as Miles disappears around a corner. “Sorry about that,” I mutter. “I hope I didn’t screw up a valuable client relationship or anything.”
“Are you kidding?” She beams at me, then stands on tiptoe to plant a furtive kiss at the edge of my mouth. She draws back and gives me a shy smile that makes my chest ache. “I was hoping I’d never have to see that guy again.”
“I think we made sure of that.” I slide my hand over hers and give a small squeeze, glad I didn’t make the wrong call. “Let’s get you that cocktail.”
We step up to the bar, and she orders something that has more ingredients than a bottle of drain cleaner. I get a Jack and Coke, and we move back into the foyer for our first real look at the art on display.
“Wow,” Lisa says, tipping her head to stare up at a framed photo that’s taller than she is. “That’s a big wolf.”
I laugh and take a step back to get the full effect. “Nice teeth,” I say. “You wouldn’t want to meet that guy in a dark alley.”
“Mmm,” she says, giving me a coy little smile as she lowers her voice to a whisper. “Especially not if you were in that alley without panties.”
My dick throbs with the reminder. I can’t believe we’ve reached this point. That we’re sharing inside jokes and shared memories as we stand here holding hands in a museum. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something mushy and romantic and utterly unlike me, but Lisa tugs my hand and pulls me toward another photo.
“What do you think of this one?”
The photo shows a shaggy gray wolf staring down a smaller brownish wolf with wide-set yellow eyes. It’s a stunning image, and it might be two males squaring off to brawl. But I’m pretty sure it’s not.
“Is it just me, or is that a smoldering look?” I ask.
“Definitely,” she agrees. “I’m guessing that one’s the lady wolf?”
“He looks like he wants to jump her bones,” I whisper low in Lisa’s ear.
She giggles and tilts her head up so her lips brush my ear. “And she looks like she wouldn’t mind at all.”
I’m about to suggest we skip the rest of the show and go back to my place when a skinny man in a black tie comes rushing toward us with tiny spectacles perched on his nose. “Isn’t it spectacular?” he asks.
His expression is friendly enough, and he’s so damn earnest I find myself nodding. “Absolutely,” I agree, hoping he didn’t hear me make that crack about the wolves humping. “Very…uh, artistic.”
“I agree,” he says. “It’s mesmerizing to see two creatures engaged in the most primal, magnificent display of nature and instinct.” He sticks out a hand, which I shake firmly before he grabs Lisa’s hand and plants a kiss on her knuckles.
