Betraying heat crept up his neck and into his face. She’d been nothing but honest with him, so he could be no less with her. “You scare me to death,” he admitted.
Her eyes widened. “I do?”
She sounded shocked, and he supposed it did sound absurd. He protected people for a living. Carried out missions that required courage and strength. He was tested on a daily basis and yet he’d just admitted that he was scared shitless by a woman half his weight. A woman whose bones he could break if he wasn’t careful. His hands were big like the rest of his body. Not meant for a woman as delicate as Eden. They were a true study in Beauty and the Beast. And he wasn’t a believer in fairy tales. He saw too much reality in his line of work. Knew there were too many unhappy endings to believe in too much goodness.
And yet he worked for an organization that prevailed in goodness and justice. For KGI—and him—failure simply wasn’t an option. But here he was throwing in the towel before the very start. What a fucking pussy that made him.
“If I promise to behave, will you at least have dinner with me?” she asked, her eyes sparkling again.
He grinned crookedly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You’d like me to behave myself or you’d like to have dinner with me?”
He laughed this time. “Has anyone ever told you how incorrigible you are?”
“And how neatly you avoid the question. You’re very good at that, you know.”
“I’d like to have dinner with you. Whether you behave or not,” he added.
“I wouldn’t turn down a teeny bite of your steak, that is, if you’re having one,” she said, a look of longing in her eyes.
“A filet sounds really good,” he admitted.
She pulled a face. “Now you’re just being mean. That’s my favorite steak.”
“Then I’ll make sure I order one and save you two bites. I can’t think one extra will hurt.”
She donned a thoughtful expression. “On second thought, order me a salad, no dressing. Then I can have those two bites.”
“You got it.”
He went to where the room service menu was laid on one of the tables and then called down their orders while Eden disappeared back into her room.
He felt her absence immediately. It was as though she took the sunshine with her, as corny as that sounded. But she just brightened any room she was in. He could honestly just stand in the same room with her and watch her. Could spend hours doing it. She was . . . genuine.
He felt guilty for the assumptions and accusations he’d levied at her. He’d acted like a first-rate dick and she hadn’t deserved that from him. For whatever reason she seemed to genuinely like him—was attracted to him. And he was a dickless twit who didn’t comprehend the magnitude of what this beautiful woman was offering him. Herself.
She’d asked for nothing in return. No hidden agenda. What could he offer her anyway? He couldn’t think of a single ulterior motive she could possibly have for pursuing him, nor could he imagine why she wanted him. But as the saying went, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Nor would he spend time questioning it.
If she wanted him, then he was damn well going to give her what she wanted. Just as soon as he figured out when and how.
CHAPTER 13
SWANNY felt horribly guilty for eating the succulent steak right in front of Eden. He didn’t miss the longing in her eyes or the fact that her mouth was practically watering as he savored the perfectly cooked meat.
He’d never considered the sacrifices models had to make. He supposed he’d always assumed they were just naturally perfect and blessed with great genes and could eat whatever and never have to worry about weight gain.
But as they’d waited on dinner, Eden had explained her workout regimen, her diet restrictions and the arduous-sounding skin and hair care routine. It had to be exhausting. Add on to that the sometimes sixteen-hour days shooting and it sounded like hell to him. And yet she’d cheerfully listed her routine as if it were perfectly normal to work herself into the ground and carefully measure her caloric intake.
It was obvious that she made a lot of sacrifices for her career, and his respect for her grew the more they conversed. He was well aware of the stereotypes associated with supermodels. But so far Eden didn’t fit any of the negative assumptions so often assigned to women in her career.
He was as guilty of those assumptions as other people. He’d never considered the work involved in modeling and just assumed that it was a cakewalk and that all models were spoiled divas who were catered to and had their every whim granted. That beyond the practiced, polished exterior presented to the camera was a bitchy, completely fake personality.