“Hello, Stephen.”
He stood, accepted the kiss she placed on his cheek in greeting. Blair’s lips curved in a sly smile as she took the seat beside him, then she deliberately turned her attention to her father.
Sinclair led the table discussion, talking project details; cost projections, increasing potential gains for Trace Development, lessening potential losses. He ate his steak, listened, asked questions, and took in all that was spoken and unspoken. Details given and ones omitted. Carelessly or cleverly, not that it mattered. He was getting the information he wanted, which was why he preferred to do business in person. Better to read a man’s true intentions.
And those weren’t the only intentions going around the table. Each time he glanced up, Blair’s green eyes met his. Challenging. Daring. A game they both liked to play. It continued through dinner and after drinks, her sending him looks, giving him seductive grazes under the table.
Even with the pointy toe of Blair’s shoe sliding purposely up his calf, he couldn’t stop thinking about a kiss and a girl with eyes the same amber color as the liquid in his glass. And he wanted more. Of the girl, not the whiskey.
He was thinking about her too much. It didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel right not to think about her either.
He didn’t think about women when he was doing business. Certainly didn’t miss them or think of calling them, wishing he had their number. Of course, he couldn’t remember ever not having a woman’s number. They usually made sure he did.
Dinner ended and they slipped into their coats. Stephen stepped forward and held out his hand to Robert. “Thank you for dinner.”
“This is a good deal, McKinney. You’d be a fool not to get in at the beginning.”
“I’ve never been a fool.”
“No,” Sinclair said, easing out of Stephen’s grip. “I don’t suppose you’d be where you are if you had.”
They made their way up, pausing on the main level, where Blair slid onto a stool at the polished cherry bar.
“I trust I can count on you to get my daughter home, McKinney?”
Stephen glanced over, caught her wolfish smile. He was no stranger to businessmen pushing women to make a potential partner happy, but his own daughter? Not that Blair couldn’t take care of herself. “Yes, sir.” He shook the man’s hand again and watched the group exit to a waiting limo.
Blair raked her eyes over him like a dangerous feline as he sat. “You know…my father would like to have you as a son-in-law.” She took the drinks the bartender set before her and slid one to him.
“Really? And what does his daughter say about that?”
Her lips curled. “I don’t know about involving the law just yet. But…we’ve had fun before.”
“Yes. We have.” He wondered if her father knew and didn’t care. “Doesn’t he want his baby girl to fall in love?” Stephen tilted the glass to circle the liquid around the edge.
Amused, Blair eyed him over the rim of her own. “What’s going on with you? Are you dating someone?”
“I don’t date.”
“True.” She took a sip. “Seeing someone then?”
He supposed you could call it that, though he’d held her hand in a movie, for God’s sake. He hadn’t done that since—
“Excuse me for a minute, will you?” Blair smiled over her shoulder, then slipped off to greet a couple at a nearby table.
He watched her move. Drank in the sight of her dress gaping generously to reveal half a breast. One he’d been intimate with. One of many.
It had taken him over two years after burying the love of his life, but a drunken night in Switzerland had broken his celibacy seal. A hot tub, a naked woman, and a fifth of Jack. Then again and again until it had gotten easier. To do. Never easier to live with.
Rote and rough, fast and impersonal. Always from behind so he wouldn’t see their faces. Wouldn’t be reminded of who he was with and who he wasn’t. Stilling the emotion pulsing just below the surface. Holding himself in rigid control because he couldn’t risk more. Wouldn’t risk opening himself up to everything that was inside him. Just taking what he wanted after everything had been taken from him. But the way he wanted Hannah was a very different thing.
Blair returned, drained her glass, then his. She held out her hand to him. “Let’s go.”
The valet brought Blair’s car around and Stephen slipped into the driver’s seat of the tiny Maserati. “Same address?”
“Yes.”
They drove several blocks in silence until he felt her clever hand inching up his leg. There was no reason not to take what she offered, but as soon as he thought it, a golden-eyed angel invaded his thoughts. “Is this your father’s proposition or yours?”