They sat opposite each other in silence. Miss Perky Boobs returned to take their order. Connor ordered a steak with pepper sauce and Charlize ordered the same. The waitress walked away and Charlize caught the end of a sly grin on Connor’s face. Crap, did she look like the giant jealous infant she felt like?
“What?” she said.
Connor’s grin slipped wider over those perfect teeth of his. “I was just thinking how much I like a woman who enjoys eating meat.” His gaze darkened, told her he wasn’t talking about the steak she’d ordered.
The image flickered behind her eyes. Her on her knees, gobbling up what he’d fed her—and loving every delicious inch of it. Her pussy, still greedy, still frustrated, throbbed. Her tongue darted out and she poured water from the jug on the table. “I’ve probably had more than my share of meat today—perhaps I should’ve ordered salad.”
“You can never have too much meat.”
He looked far too smug, far too satisfied—especially for someone who’d left her hanging. She filled up his glass as well then put down the jug and picked up her drink. Connor raised his glass.
“I suppose you’re right. The tube steak I had earlier wasn’t very satisfying.”
His glass came crashing back to the table. “You don’t think it was good?”
She tried not to grin. So he wasn’t as infallibly confident as he liked to ooze. “I’m not saying it wasn’t a good steak. I’m just saying it wasn’t satisfying. I’m still hungry.”
“Oh…” The tiny wrinkle of doubt washed off his forehead. “It wasn’t supposed to be. That was an appetizer.” His voice grew husky, promised the main course was yet to come.
A ding sounded from her pocket and she pulled out her phone. She frowned when she saw the message.
“What is it?” Connor asked.
“Just Dad’s caregiver, I asked her to message me after seeing him.” She took in the two-line message.
“And?”
“She says he’s allowed her back for now.”
“That must be a relief?”
“Yeah,” she said but her energy suddenly felt zapped away.
“So what’s the deal with your dad? Seems like more than old age.”
Charlize took a deep breath. Enough of her dad remained intact for him to want his personal business kept secret, preferring others considered him a recluse than a…what exactly was he?
“No it’s not old age. It’s a combination of things.”
“Such as?”
She tucked her phone away and looked at him. His attention locked on her, impossible to brush aside.
“He had a stroke two years ago. It almost killed him but they managed to save him. He had some minor brain damage. He should have completely recovered, we were told—but he had a breakdown. Couldn’t stand being made useless that way. Although I suspect he may have been close to breaking before the stroke. He was never the same after Mom left.”
Connor’s expression didn’t shift, didn’t betray a thing. “But you didn’t take over right away?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I was in college. Besides, my uncle was there, was primed to take over and have things his own way. He wouldn’t let me near the place.”
“So what changed?”
“Same as Dad—a stroke. But he didn’t make it.”
A thin line appeared between Connor’s brows. “They both had strokes within two years of each other?”
“Yeah, while sitting in the exact same office.” She rubbed the spot between her ribs, where a sinking sensation oozed. “It’s probably hereditary.”
She blinked—the conversation had already strayed into uncomfortable territory. “So I guess you’ll be glad when this is all over and you can go back to running Crowe Security instead of having to play boyfriend, huh?”
Something dark and raw shifted over Connor’s features. His jaw hardened. The waitress reappeared, balancing large plates of food. She set them down and Connor waited until she moved away before he spoke again.
“Is that what you think? That this is a game I’m playing to pass the time?”
Charlize picked up her knife and fork and stared at the steaming brown mess on her plate. A sharp pain tightened her chest at the idea she might be right, but a slow, suffocating fear told her she might be wrong. “I have no idea what this is.”
The plate disappeared from in front of her and her gaze snapped up. Connor moved her dishes, silverware, napkin and glasses from the middle of the table to the end against the wall. He looked at her from beneath hooded brows and reached for her arm, urging her to move. The leather seat shuffled against her thighs as she slid to the inside end of the booth. Connor sat down beside her and reached an arm around her shoulders but not in a casual, romantic way. The embrace pressed her to him, made her feel the heat of his skin, the hardness of his body, but most of all he captured her, forced her attention on him.