‘Has anyone ever said you sound really sexy when you curse?’ As I glance at her again, I see the honesty in her words. ‘It totally works for me,’ she utters quickly, as though desperate to speak the words. ‘Swearing, I mean.’
‘You want me to curse more?’
‘No. I like that you generally don’t. That you use it for effect.’
‘What kind of effect?’
‘You know what kind,’ she murmurs, her gaze dipping from mine before rising again, bolder now. ‘The bedroom kind. The bossy kind.’
And there we have it. Confirmation that she’s a little submissive. In the bedroom, at least. ‘Interesting.’
‘You know what else is interesting?’ Along with her question comes a challenging tilt to her chin and a daring glint to her gaze. ‘Swearing is supposed to display a lack of imagination. But in your case, it’s a sign of the exact opposite.’
‘You have no idea,’ I murmur, slowing the car for the red light ahead.Red for danger. A red rag waved at a bull. ‘But I could show you. Any time you like.’
She shakes her head a little disparagingly.But she started it.
‘So the ring.’ I don’t give a fuck about the ring. Unless we’re talking about her ring—I halt the thought before the images rotating through my brain become responsible for me wrapping my car around a nearby lamppost. ‘I thought maybe he wanted it back for Tamara.’
‘Your former friend? They sound like two of a kind and fully deserving of each other.’
‘Agreed. And she can have the ring if that’s what he’s doing with it. But I hope he’s got some glue and a lot of patience because the moissanite will be in a million pieces when I send it back to him.’ Her expression is a strange mix of wicked and bashful, and as the lights change, it takes some effort to tear my gaze away. ‘Is that too awful, do you think?’
‘No, I like it. I think it’s a pretty exquisite plan.’ And second only to me making him eat the sharp shards.
‘I thought so, too,’ she adds happily. ‘I was never one hundred percent comfortable with the thought of keeping it for myself because it had been his grandmother’s. Heather said I should’ve sold it back to him when we thought it was worth something.’ She shrugs lightly. ‘You know, if it had real sentimental value to him. But that’s not why he wants it back. I think he sold the stone and now he’s terrified his family will find out. So I’m going to crush it in a vise or something; I haven’t ironed out the details. Then I’m going to send it back to him and never think about him again.’
‘As far as revenge goes, I like it. Your conscience will suffer no adverse effects; he gets what’s left of his grandmother’s ring, and you can move on.’
‘Exactly. Except I’ve already moved on. You’re sure it doesn’t sound too crazy?’
‘It’s the exact opposite of psychotic. And actually a little calculating. I’m impressed. And I can help.’
‘Really?’ Her smile widens, reining free. ‘How?’
‘I’ll gladly crush it with the help of a forklift truck.’ I’m sure we have one of those in the warehouse. If not, I’m a resourceful man. ‘I’ll gladly deliver it, too. That way, I can describe his reaction to you.’
The sound of her laughter fills the car.
* * *
‘Here we are.’
The car slows to a stop outside the house indicated by the navigation system. I turn off the engine but don’t move my hands from the wheel. Despite her protestations, I know where this is going. Where I’m going.
Inside the house. Inside her.
I’m pretty sure she realises this, too. But it wouldn’t do to make it obvious, not because her nature is contrary. Rather she’s easily scared by the direction of things. It’s like fear drives her to the point she can’t trust her own instincts.
I wonder if she realises this.
‘I’d invite you in for a coffee, but I think those kids hanging out in the park we just passed would probably have the wheels off your car before the kettle even begins to sing.’
‘I heardcome in for a coffee. Stay the night because I won’t be able to get home.’
‘You have a driver.’ Her retort is playful rather than tart. ‘And one of those fancy black credit cards, I noticed in the restaurant. I expect cabs accept those.’
‘Well, it sounds like I’m coming in for a coffee, then.’ With the assertion, I grasp the handle of the door.
