“Of course not.”
I turned to him. “You don’t trust me?”
“I make it a policy never to buy what I can’t pay for and never to pay for what I can’t own immediately. It makes for good business.”
I sighed. “Then we should compromise. Because I need that money soon.”
He tilted his head to the side, studying me again. “I thought this was about feminist ideals and the ‘new paradigm.’”
“I never said it was only about those ideals.”
He said nothing, just grazed me with that cold stare.
I shook my head. “You aren’t allowed to judge me. Not until you’ve sat where I’m sitting.”
He looked annoyed. “What makes you think I haven’t?”
I waved significantly at the interior of the expensive town car driving us to the airport. We were sitting as far apart from each other as you could possibly get in the back of that car, but the energy still crackled between us. For some reason I thought that last night had killed that tension between us, but it only seemed to be stronger this morning. I was aware of everything about him, his posture, his movements, the way he tapped his index finger on his knee when his hand rested there. The way his muscular form perfectly filled his clothes. His clean, masculine scent. The way his dark eyes watched me, calculating. Assessing.
“Next week, then.”
A week? A rush of heat rose to my features, but this time not from frustration or anger. This heat was one of anticipation. Because despite his annoying talk of “owning” my virginity, the feelings I’d begun to feel last night—the unfulfilled sensations he’d stirred in me—were rearing their heads, screaming to be heard. Last night I’d been sad that this would be over by today. Now I had another week. The mixed feelings swirled and tightened in my chest like a whirlwind about to lift from the ground.
I glanced out the window to cover my reaction. The airport was just ahead. “Will you be in some other glamorous location next week?”
“I’ll only be at home. I’m having some guests over for dinner. You could come. Afterward, we’ll take the yacht out past the twelve-mile mark.”
I turned back to him, my annoyance bleeding through in the sarcasm in my voice. “Because, of course you have a yacht.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
We didn’t speak again through the airport check-in process. Adam was attentive, carrying my bag for me and running it through security, but his manner was brisk, efficient, cool and impersonal. It was as if we were strangers. And in truth, we really were.
When we took our seats next to each other, we started to talk again. We chose neutral, safe territory—the game. He was usually reluctant to discuss it, I’d noticed. He was probably concerned that I’d try to start digging into game secrets again. But I’d waited until after we’d been served a delightful lunch by a lovely blond British Air Hostess who was extremely attentive to all of Adam’s needs, complete with her own unsubtle brand of flirting. I began to wonder if he had this kind of effect on every woman in his proximity.
He turned to me over dessert. “So, I know from your blog that you play a Spiritual Enchantress. But you’ve never mentioned your character’s name.”
I look askance at him. “Of course not. If my readers knew my character in the game, it might affect the game experience. Gotta keep the trade secrets under the pointed wizard hat.”
He smiled. “So what is your character’s name?”
I gazed at him suspiciously. “Why do you want to know my character’s name?”
He shrugged. “Just curious.”
“Are you going to look me up or something?”
“Okay then, what server do you play on?”
“Omni.”
He looked pensive. “Hmm. Power gamer.”
I shrugged. “Does that surprise you?”
“No. I’m starting to realize you have a thing about power and control.”
“Wow, you make me sound so…Dominatrix. Maybe that should be the next class of character you introduce into the game with the next expansion.”
He laughed.
I tilted my head at him expectantly. “Do you play?” I asked.
“DE?”
“No…World of Warcraft,” I snarked. “Of course DE.”
“I have a character.”
“A secret character? Other than your public persona, Lord Sisyphus?”
He looked away with a smirk. “Yeah, I have a secret character.”
My mouth dropped. “The truth comes out. You’re like King Henry the Fifth.”
“What?”
“Oh yeah, you dropped out of geek college so you wouldn’t have read up on your Shakespeare. Henry the Fifth dressed up like a common soldier and went around his war camps to see who was talking trash about him.”