Page 58 of The Bet
“I told you, I don’t like those types of games.”
He walked over and stood in front of her, his hands on his waist. “What types of games do you like?”
“How is it that you turn everything into innuendo?”
“Innuendo?” He guffawed, because he hadn’t meant it like that at all. Hell, he could give her some real innuendo that would make her face turn scarlet.
“Yes. Suggestive talk, hinting at something inappropriate.”
“I know what it means. I’m not dumb. I was being serious.”
“I can’t tell with you.”
“When it’s innuendo, with me, you won’t have to ask. It’ll be pretty obvious.”
Her cheeks flushed at that, and he would bet any money that she was annoyed that his words had had an effect on her.
She stared up at him through her long, curly eyelashes, her dark eyes fixing on him, her gaze searching. It was as if she could see right through his phony exterior, and reach down, and feel the real him. It was almost impossible to be brash and cocky, when the other person wasn’t remotely affected by that kind of talk or behavior. Laronde had had a dampening effect on him, and in return, he’d seen through part of her armor.
He’d thought of her as cute enough, back on the island—eye candy, nice legs, average sized breasts, more a commodity, something to attain, than a person who had hopes, and fears, and feelings. He’d carried that idea all the way to New York, but now, sitting here on his couch, in his apartment, with her looking at him like that, it made him see her through a different filter.
She definitely was pretty easy on the eye—dark hair, dark eyes, and with those bangs falling over her face, tempting him to want to move them back so that he could take a good look at her face.
A thought ricocheted into his head, of what it would be like to have her eyes staring at him when she came, have her screaming his name on those full, and pretty, and delectable lips of hers. The dirty visual imprinted on his brain and stayed there a few moments until he visibly shook his head, as if to dispel it.
He straightened up, rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. Not knowing what had happened earlier, but being certain that something had, now forced him to delve deeper. To get under her skin, and find out.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, and I didn’t mean it like that.” He cleared his throat, pushing that thought away. He hadn’t been hitting on her, not now at any rate, but when he resumed his tactics, once this episode was over, he’d have to try harder, do something different, woo her another way.
“Those dollar bills outside your door. How did they get there?” he asked softly. “Because I don’t buy your rent money scenario.”
“Is it any of your business?”
“Given that my brother and Savannah have left you to look after Jacob, definitely. I’d say it was my business.”
“What has anythingIdo got to do with Jacob? It happened atmyapartment.”
“So something did happen?”
She looked away.
“Izzy,” he said, sitting down and using her name on the rare occasion. It at least made her turn her attention towards him again. Tobias was a rich man, and his recent wedding had probably attracted the crazies, of that he was sure. If someone wanted to hurt Tobias, they could do it easily through Savannah, through Jacob, and through the boy’s babysitter.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I need to know.”
“But I really don’t want to talk about it,” she said slowly, and the unsteadiness of her voice made him look closer, lean in a little closer, try, try, try to understand her, read her, and second guess her.
“I can be a good listener,” he said, his voice so very low.
“It’s something from before. I promise you.” She huffed out a breath, as if it was too much. “I don’t want to talk about it, Stone. Okay?”
“Can’t you be nice, for once? I’m making an effort.”
Her head shot back towards him. “Then stop asking me.”
“People don’t throw dollar bills away like that, not unless they want something. Did someone want something from you?”
