“Picture your grandmother.”
“That’s just cruel. My Nana is dead.”
Her flawless mask crumples. “Shit, I’m sorry—”
I hold up a palm. “Save it. We’re not here to share sob stories. Now, where was I?”
Her answering frown has the opposite impact of what she’s probably trying to convey.
“Ah, yes. You’re doing a shitty job dodging my advances. I’m not the least bit discouraged from further attempts.”
She ticks her jaw forward. “That’s your problem.”
I flare my nostrils, inhaling ripe denial and the promise of chaos. Bathing in her scent will be a great pleasure. “Don’t pretend you’re not attracted to me.”
Vannah tilts her chin at an angle that can only be described as haughty. Taking her down several pegs is a privilege I look forward to. “You’re a jerk, Lannie.”
The fact she gave me a nickname—appalling though it might be—is a notch in my favor. “That doesn’t mean I’m not feeding your fantasies.”
She snorts, betraying her elegant exterior. “In your dreams.”
“Yes, I look forward to them.”
Her eyes narrow into slits. “Is this your new strategy?”
I shake my head in the negative. “I was already trying yesterday. You shot me down hard.”
“And what do you think has changed?”
“Everything.” I drift a finger along her smooth cheek. “I’m thinking a truce might be in order.”
Her coy smile prepares to call bullshit. “Long enough to bang me?”
“So brash, Savannah. I find that very exhilarating. My interest in you streams beyond sex.”
“With you, it comes natural to assume otherwise. You do bring out the worst in me, after all.” She bats her impressively long lashes in a very false fashion.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“No surprise there, Mr. Modest.” Her ability to fling clever jabs is a talent I’m not accustomed to. That’s a major reason she’s still in my presence.
A muscle tugs near my mouth, but I refuse to reveal any genuine emotion. “I see you’re armed for the part.”
Once again, she doesn’t miss a beat and sweeps a palm down her torso. “As your adversary? Why, yes. Thanks for noticing.”
A low rumble rises off my chest. This woman is becoming quite skilled at pushing my buttons. The need to regain ground propels through me. “As my employee.”
“You’re not my boss.”
“Yet.”
Vannah stands from her stool. “If this is how we’re kicking off the negotiations, I’ll walk out before you can make the pitch.”
Fucking stubborn minx. I’m certain my scowl sinks to Antarctic levels. “Sit down, sugar.”
She makes no move to follow my command. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”
I match her glare and raise the intensity to sweltering. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Vannah crosses her arms, effectively serving me her tits on a silver platter. “I can’t imagine how.”
“By making an offer you can’t refuse.”
“Will it send you back to Chicago faster?”
“Is that really what you want?”
“Yes.” She blurts her answer before I’m done speaking.
I scrub over my mouth to hide the threat of a smirk. “Let’s not be rash. This isn’t how I meant for our evening to start.”
Her eyes roll to the vaulted ceiling. She still hasn’t returned to her stool. “Could’ve fooled me.”
I ignore the barb. “Aren’t you interested in what I have to say?”
“That’s such a loaded question,” she remarks in a wry tone.
“I’d like you to be my personal real estate agent.” The title doesn’t suit this vixen before me. To be fair, I’m not sure limitations from any occupation could corral her fire. She’s meant to blaze trails far and wide—and get filthy rich doing it.
Vannah shows no sign of surprise at my proposal. Or interest, for that matter. “Diving into business before we’re even brought to a table? I’m not sure how cheap your dinner dates usually are, but this wham-bam situation isn’t going to end well for you where I’m concerned.”
Her entitled attitude isn’t helping me ditch the mirth attempting to make an appearance. I stamp out the warmth spreading through me by enlisting my signature stony expression. “Then we should remedy that. Do you know how this restaurant got its name?”
She quirks a brow while polishing off her cocktail. Perfect timing. “Do you?”
“There’s a rooftop patio that’s supposed to offer a great sunset view.”
“How romantic.” Her tone suggests the scene might be similar to a waste facility.
“Good thing that’s not my intention. Perhaps the sight will get you in a more agreeable mood, though.”
“For what?” Her teeth clack together with the sharp question.
That incessant need to question me chips at my patience. “My proposal, unless you’re reconsidering the sex portion.”
Vannah huffs hard enough to make her lips flap. “It doesn’t matter where we sit. I’ll still be a tough nut to crack.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” I lift my chin to a hostess hovering nearby and point toward the ceiling.
She nods, scurrying over to lead the way. The elevator ride is so silent a queef would resemble an explosion. Vannah gives no signal of discomfort from the cloying tension that’s practically fogging the steel walls. I almost exhale in relief when the doors glide open, greeting us with sticky warmth that’s still clinging to the night air. The outdoor layout is more relaxed and casual. Several vibrant couches frame one side while plush armchairs clumped in intimate proximity are arranged along another.
The girl leading us peeks over her shoulder, hesitating between the two seating options. Whatever visible fury she notices crackling off Vannah in an attack against me has her directing us away from the couches. Wise choice, unfortunately.
“Well, this is cozy.” Vannah’s tone makes that observation sound like an accusation.
“Certainly is.” I settle in a swayback seat as she folds herself into the one across me. Her elegance wafts along the open space, even above the mouthwatering scent of grilled meat. A server swoops in to get our beverage order, concise and direct, then darts off to give us privacy.
I smooth a palm down my dress shirt—sans tie. Vannah’s gaze tracks my movement. The image of her ripping at the buttons gets a twitch from my cock. Heat aims south at an alarming rate. This woman is too tempting. The way she’s studying me while slowly crossing her legs alerts me to her suspicion.
A cough removes the lust from tightening my throat. “Do you ever regret getting into real estate?”
She glances to the side, narrowing her eyes on some unsuspecting point. “No, much to my father’s dismay.”
The similarity isn’t lost on me. I recognize the bitterness in her tone as my own. “There’s a story there.”
“We aren’t here to discuss my family.” Her voice is frosty enough to give me a chill, regardless of the warm temperature.