Project Runaway Bride(18)

He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help shaking her head.

“I can’t believe you cook,” she admitted honestly. It didn’t seem like something a man like him would stoop to.

She happened to know that he was personally worth well over twenty-five million dollars. And his company, which was one of the most successful, high-tech investigation firms in the country, was worth probably closer to a billion.

But unlike Paul, who liked to brag about his financial success and spend money on expensive items that would impress his peers whether or not he needed or even truly wanted them, one would never be able to peg the size of Reid’s bank account just by looking at him.

She’d seen him in a perfectly tailored Armani suit and wondered why they bothered ever using anyone else on a cover of GQ. She’d even seen him in a tuxedo once and thought he made every James Bond ever to grace the silver screen look like a hunchbacked, bridge-dwelling troll in comparison. So without a doubt, he could flaunt his wealth and prestige.

More often than not, though, he preferred slacks and a plain white dress shirt. Sometimes with a suit jacket. Often with a tie that didn’t make it much past noon.

Even now, he was dressed in his usual business casual, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The style wasn’t fancy, wasn’t expensive. She knew he had pricey clothes in his closet, but doubted he spent much on his everyday attire.

Yet it didn’t take away one iota from the man she knew him to be. The one who’d spent time in the military, become highly trained, then started his own investigation firm where he could use his brains as well as his brawn.

Which was yet another reason she knew she would never manage to get away from him if he didn’t want to let her go. He would use the resources of his company, his own personal skills and finally his own unlimited finances, if necessary, to track her down without ever bothering to bill her sisters for the time and money he actually spent. He was that stubborn, that persistent and apparently still that determined to make her suffer.

Luckily, just being in the same room with him for any length of time these days was enough to achieve that.

Then again, dinner looked and smelled delicious, so it wasn’t all that bad.

She picked up her fork and knife, but waited, not wanting to be the first to begin eating. Grabbing his own utensils, Reid inclined his head, gesturing for her to dig in.

“My mother used to tell me that nothing impressed a woman more than a man who can cook,” he said, cutting into his meal. “So I let her teach me, then learned a few more things on my own along the way.”

“And did it work?” she asked.

He popped a piece of meat into his mouth, chewing for a minute before he replied.

“I don’t know,” he said, lips quaking. “Are you impressed?”

It pained her to admit it, to even be bantering so comfortably with him when there were vital issues lying just beneath the surface, but she found herself smiling in return and saying, “Actually, I am.”

“Then it worked.”

He took another bite, as did she, and for a while they ate in companionable silence.

“Why didn’t you ever cook while we were...” She stopped midsentence, not entirely sure of what she meant to say. While we were together? While we were having our torrid affair?

A stony mask fell over Reid’s features, but otherwise he didn’t react to her blunder.

“There never seemed to be time,” he responded instead. “We always seemed to be in a rush when we got together and fell right into...other things. Or we met somewhere without a kitchen that we wouldn’t have bothered using anyway because we were always too busy...with other things.”

His innuendos couldn’t have been clearer if he’d drawn a picture on his cloth napkin, and her face flamed at the memories, as well as his suggestive tone.

“Besides, you always seemed to want takeout or delivery. Not my favorite, but it made you happy.” He shrugged one broad shoulder, gaze turned down to his plate while he cut another slice of beef medallion. “And it gave us more time to do what we did best.”

That was why she didn’t want him here. There was too much history between them that he wasn’t the least bit shy about bringing up. Something she suspected he would do quite often, both to needle her and remind her of what they’d had together. What she’d been missing ever since she’d left him and ended up right back where she’d been to begin with, engaged and planning her wedding.

He also knew her far too well. She remembered how he used to watch her from beneath those hooded lashes, studying her every move. He was a detective; he profiled people for a living.