I stopped as his handsome face split into a patronizing grin. “If I’m going to lay down a fortune for the privilege of experiencing your quivering virgin flesh, I think it goes without saying that I expect to do it without a barrier.”
I sat back, clenching my teeth so hard that my head started to ache. My gaze was held fast by the challenge in his ebony eyes. He might have been the most gorgeous creature I’d ever laid my eyes on, but he was also an asshat.
He tilted his head at me, puzzled. “Why is that a problem? If we are both cleared by a physician—”
I unclenched my jaw just long enough to reply. “Recent medical clearance is not sufficient for me. I’d require celibacy for at least the previous six months, so—”
“Then there isn’t a problem.”
I highly doubted that. I opened my mouth to call him a liar when Heath leaned forward and put his hand on the table in front of me.
Drake’s lawyer cleared his throat, throwing a bland look at me and turning to Drake. “We can work all these details out later in mediation. Mr. Drake does have a plane to catch later today.”
Drake’s eyes darted to Heath and back to me. I could tell he was trying to gauge our relationship. It wasn’t the first time a person had looked at the two of us in that unsure, questioning way. Heath was not obviously gay in any way. He wasn’t “fabulous” or flamboyant. He was very masculine in his behavior and mannerisms, so he rarely set off people’s gaydar.
My gaze turned back to Drake, drawn to him like a flame pulled into a hot, dry wind. I resented the heat on my cheeks. I was not a habitual blusher. Hardly ever, actually. But this man was bringing my Irish up, as my mother liked to say. And what was worse, the more annoyed I grew with him, the more amused he seemed to be.
Drake flicked a glance at Heath and then his lawyer. “Gentlemen, could you excuse us for a moment? You’re free to wait just outside the door.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he glanced at me. “If, of course, that is okay with the lady?”
My face flamed hotter and I folded my hands on my lap. “Fine,” I said, wondering if the thirty-something New Yorker was still interested in the deal. There was no way he could be more offensive than this jerk.
Heath looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. He patted me on the shoulder and the two men exited, leaving the two of us across the table from one another, staring.
Finally he cleared his throat and laid his hands on the table before him, lacing his fingers together and dropping his gaze. “I’m sorry if my bluntness has offended you. I assumed that a woman who has placed herself on the block like you have would be comfortable with straight talk.”
I laughed. “Oh, is that what that was? I just thought you were being an asshat.”
When he smiled, the arrogance was gone and the most delicious dimple appeared at the side of his mouth. I wanted to lick that dimple, to know every nuance of its taste. I shifted in my seat, furious with myself. Why couldn’t I control these crazy, darting thoughts?
“Mr. Drake. You are not leaving me with the best impression of yourself—”
I cut off at his dry chuckle. “Do I need to? I thought my bank account did that for me.”
Anger sizzled hot and my muscles tensed. I breathed in one long draught and then released it. “I am not a prostitute and I’ll thank you not to treat me like one.”
“You’ve sold yourself. You may not see yourself as one, but clearly…” His eyes traveled down my body again.
I shook my head. I couldn’t understand his motivation for provoking me like this. As beautiful as he was, each time that he opened his mouth I was finding it harder and harder to picture myself in bed with him. “One night in my life and a bit of broken skin does not constitute prostitution.”
His dark gaze intensified, as if with one long, determined gaze he could break through my defenses. I drew back.
“Sex for money is prostitution.”
I shrugged, determined not to let him see that he was getting under my skin. “I prefer not to put a label on it. One night of my life does not define me.”
Those generous, sexy lips turned up in a knowing smile. “A lot can happen in one night.”
I couldn’t look away no matter how much I wanted to. My heart pounded, pulse screaming through my veins in concerted throbs, but my head kept telling me to kick this asshole to the curb. There were many things I would do for almost a million dollars. Submitting to this overinflated jerk might not be one of them.
He looked at me with an analytical expression that I might wear while studying platelets under a microscope. “It takes a curious type of morality to save one’s self for so long only to sell off that asset to the highest bidder.”