“You’re crazy,” I said, my heart in my throat, and I didn’t know if I was speaking to her or to myself. I was considering this. I wanted to say yes.
“Maybe I am. But I think you like my crazy and this is what I want.”
I’d chased after a woman before. For ten long years, I’d pursued and attempted to win Louisa Franklin, high society ice-queen. She’d put me through my paces. She’d also betrayed me, leaving me bitter and angry.
Whereas Margaret—my one and only old lady during my time with the Wraiths—had wanted to take care of me, to love me. Except everything she did, every selfless act, turned my stomach. She had no self-respect, no boundaries. I could do no wrong. Her type of desperate, needy love left me cold and adrift.
“What if I mistreat you?” I asked the question before I could catch it. I would never mistreat a woman, not on purpose, but Diane’s words in the bar from last year—about finding someone else once she was drunk enough—still plagued me.
No, we couldn’t do this. We would never be together, not how she wanted. But Diane was obviously ready to try with someone.
“Then I’ll dump your ass,” she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
I did laugh then, shaking my head at her. “What if I don’t want to be dumped?”
“You forget, I just survived a divorce from a sneaky reprobate who didn’t want to be divorced, who wanted to take me for everything, who wanted to see me penniless, ruined, broken.” Her eyes narrowed, and the look she wore was scary as hell. “I do not break, Jason. I will never break. I’m too stubborn and I’m much too selfish. So if you don’t want to be dumped, you’ll have to get over it, or else I’d get a restraining order. I have lots of experience with those now. And if you crossed that line, I’d make sure you’d rot in jail.”
“You’d put me in jail?” Good.
“Yes. If you did anything to piss me off, absolutely.” She nodded, presumably at the veracity of her words. This plus the spark of determination behind her eyes was one hell of a turn on.
Say yes.
I couldn’t.
You want her.
I had responsibilities.
Fuck responsibilities. Jessica isn’t here anymore. You have no reason to stay loyal to Razor.
“What if I went to jail for something unrelated to you?” I asked, stalling.
“Then I suppose I’d get you a good lawyer.”
“Even if I was guilty?”
“It would depend on what you did.”
“Money laundering.”
“Then I’d get you a great lawyer.”
Now I turned away, walking some distance and shaking my head to clear it. “Diane.”
“Jason.” From the closeness of her voice, I knew she’d followed me. A moment later, her hand closed around my arm and gently turned me to face her.
Damn, but she was so beautiful. “What you’re asking isn’t possible, gorgeous.”
“Fine. That’s fine.” Her eyes dropped and her tone grew arch, higher pitched. “That’s perfectly fine. If you’re not interested, I completely understand. I know I’m not for everybody. I rub lots of folks the wrong way, but I am who I am and—”
“No. No, listen to me.” I stepped forward, crowding her space and grabbing her hands. Touching her was likely a mistake, but I soldiered on, pressing them between my palms and making sure she looked at me—truly looked—before continuing. “I am interested. You have no idea. But my life, this life I’m in, it would be a danger to you. If my brothers found out, you would not be safe.”
“I don’t believe that. Bethany Winston may’ve been abused by Darrell, but none of the other Wraiths ever laid a hand on her.”
“It’s not just physical safety I’m talking about. What’s yours—this house, your money, the Lodge, the bakery—they’d expect that to be mine, and theirs by extension. Everything Bethany had before her marriage was squandered by the Wraiths. They took everything from her.”
“But we wouldn’t be married.”
“But you’d be mine.” She would be. I would make her mine, and I’d never let her go.
“Okay, okay. I concede, you have some good points.” She lifted to her toes and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “But aren’t we putting the buggy before the horse here?”
I leaned forward as she withdrew, chasing her mouth and muttering, “How so?”
“Before we start worrying about your boyfriends at the club, or the upper echelon of society in town, why don’t we go on a date?”
I stared at her.
She twisted her hands such that our fingers tangled and moved them to our sides, leaning forward and pressing her body against mine. “One date. We may not even like each other.”
“I like you just fine.”
“Sure. But how much do you really know about me? Maybe you don’t like the way I order my food. I’m very particular about food preparation. Or maybe I chew too loud. Or maybe you hate the color pink.”
“I don’t hate the color pink.” My eyes dropped to her mouth. I needed to kiss her again.
“Good, ’cause it’s my favorite color. And I don’t think I could date a man who didn’t have pink in his wardrobe.” Releasing my fingers, she slipped her arms around my neck.
I didn’t dare touch her, so I balled my hands into fists. “I do not have pink in my wardrobe. I don’t even have a wardrobe.”
“See? I did not know that. And now I don’t know if we have a future.”
Despite myself, despite the situation, I laughed. And when I did, I saw that my laughter had been her aim, because she smiled big and wide, looking exceptionally pleased.
“But these are the kinds of things, the kinds of questions folks figure out on dates, Jason.” She placed a soft kiss on my cheek, then my jaw. “Favorite movies, favorite movie genres, favorite food, flavors of ice cream.”
“Peaches and vanilla,” I said, my blood heating.
“Good to know.” The words were a playful whisper spoken against my neck. “We can drive to Asheville, take two separate cars. We can both wear a disguise if you’re concerned about being seen. Fine. But what is the harm in going on one date?”
“One date?” I licked my lips, considering it. Actually, I more than considered it. I decided.
“Yes. Surely your Wraiths brothers aren’t going to expect me to sign over the Lodge after a single date,” she said to the underside of my chin, peppering more kisses there and sounding entirely reasonable. “And how would they find out anyway? I won’t tell anyone.”
I could do one date. I could pretend for one evening that I was just a regular guy, worthy of her. We could show each other a good time for one night.
One date.
Chapter Eight
*Diane*
“Another belief of mine: that everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.”
Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye
I decided to wear a wig. The source of my decision was neither vanity nor frivolity, though I couldn’t help but feel both vain and frivolous as I stared at my reflection in the car’s flip down mirror.