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His witty comeback worked. She smiled. Okay, not really smiled, but the corner of her lips twitched. That reaction was better than a moment ago when she’d been about to dropkick him. She filled a plastic cup halfway with red wine and handed it over, filling one for herself while she was at it. They sipped in silence.
“This is good,” he told her.
She gave him a slow blink. “You like wine?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“You strike me as a beer-from-the-can kind of guy.”
“I am.”
She took another drink before changing the subject. “I didn’t see your car out there when I was running for my life.”
He tilted his head at her sarcasm. She smiled prettily and he immediately forgave her. He was such a freaking goner for this woman.
“Clive drove me.”
“How do you plan on getting home?” She widened her blue eyes.
He laid a pile of innuendo at her feet. “I thought you’d give me a ride.”
She opened and closed her mouth, then frowned. “Well, I think it’s sad that you had Clive drive you here like you two were on some sort of high school mission.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want my car to get dirty.”
She curled her lip like Billy Idol, which should have been a turnoff but was actually kind of cute. “Are you serious?”
“It’s white. I just washed it.”
Why that infuriated her, he had no idea. Then again, everything about him seemed to infuriate her. Meanwhile, everything she did made him want her a little bit more.
Ah, what cruel irony.
“Well, it doesn’t change the bet.” She reached for her phone to check the time. “Six hours to go.”
Six hours to convince her to concede. Now that he’d been unmasked, he’d have to rely on the speaker upstairs. Damn, she’d called him on it, too. Smart, his girl.
This girl, he mentally corrected.
Not his. Not yet.
“Since you insist on stealing my vacation from me”—he paused to appreciate her flared nostrils—“would you consider throwing me a bone for the annual design dinner?”
Her eyebrows pinched. “Is that a sex joke?”
“What?” He laughed. “No. That’s funny, though.”
She didn’t smile, but her lips slanted at an amused angle. Progress.
“What would it hurt if you went with me?” he asked. “You go every year, anyway. You’re obviously not bringing the last guy you dated.”
“Andy? How do you know?” A flash of hurt crossed her features, and he hated seeing it there. Hated knowing that dickhead had hurt her.
“Are you?” The answer had better be no. If Marcus ever saw him again, he’d flatten him. She had been single when she’d started working at Cameron Designs, but then shortly after that she’d gone on a date here and another date there. Lily and Andy hadn’t been together long. Marcus had met him one time—that had been one time too many. He would never treat Lily like an afterthought the way Andy had.
“No. I’m not bringing him.” She tossed her wavy hair and met his eyes. “He’s gone.”
“For good?”
