Page 30 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
“Oh?” He grinned. “What did she say?”
“That you change your girlfriends more often than you change your socks.”
“Ah, now that’s not fair. I change my socks every day. My mother taught me that.”
She snorted. He suspected that she was trying not to laugh.
“I’ll tell you what,” he coaxed. “Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight? It’ll give you a chance to get to know me properly.”
“I told you, I don’t want to get to know you.”
“Scared?” he teased, grinning.
“Scared?” She arched one finely drawn eyebrow. “Why would I be scared?”
“Maybe of finding out that the shark-infested moat you’re hiding behind isn’t quite wide enough after all?”
She sighed with impatience. “For the last time, I do not want to get to know you, I don’t want to go out to dinner with you, and if you don’t go away, I’ll ask Mike to throw you out.”
“He wouldn’t do it. He’s too nice.” That won him a flicker of a smile.
“Lisa then.”
“Oh, yes. She’d throw me out,” he acknowledged, laughing. “Even though she’s my sister.”
She conceded another reluctant smile. “Are you always this arrogant?”
“I like to think of it as persistent.”
“You’re certainly that.”
“Ah, now you’ve hurt my feelings.” His desolate expression was entirely bogus — he knew she wouldn’t be fooled for a moment.
“I doubt you have any feelings,” she snapped.
“I have lots of them. Like I feel all fuzzy when I look at you. Like I just want to run my fingers through that gorgeous flaming hair.”
“Try that and I might have to break your arm.”
“That wouldn’t hurt as much as if you broke my heart.” He laid a hand over the threatened organ. “And you’ve already bruised it by refusing to have dinner with me.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Is this how you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Wear a girl down until she agrees to go out with you just to shut you up.”
“Are you going to go out with me?”
Her mouth thinned. “Will it shut you up?”
“Of course. How about tonight? I know a nice little place on the edge of Dartmoor. Very classy, very romantic. Great food.”
“Not tonight. I’m working late.”
“Tomorrow then?”
“I’m washing my hair.”
