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She reached into the bag and withdrew the wrapped bagels, putting each on a plate then sliding one towards him.
“Thanks,” he grinned, wondering if she’d return it. She didn’t. Instead, Maddie frowned.
“Okay, we must be down to, like, eleven minutes. What did you want to show me?”
Even though he liked a challenge, he hadn’t planned to speed through his presentation. He’d been hoping to seduce her with the beauty of what the architects had come up with, the tributes to the heritage of the area, the façade that would incorporate so many design elements appropriate to this part of the world.
Instead, he tried a different approach. “We’re going to turn this into a premiere destination. Even in the Hamptons, it will stand out for the level of luxury and sophistication.”
Maddie pulled a face. “Boring.”
His temper flared but he tamped down on it. He needed to up the ante. He realized now that trying to engage with her directly about the project was the wrong approach. She had too much animosity towards it; he wouldn’t win her over on the merits of what he was proposing. He had to connect on a personal level, even when she had a thousand shields up, making that almost impossible.
Still…Rocco had never met a woman he hadn’t been able to win over.
Not once.
Rejection was an unknown quantity to him, and he doubted Maddie would be the first woman to break that record. Okay, even he recognized how arrogant that thought was, but it didn’t necessarily follow that he was wrong.
“What do you want to see happen to the street, Maddison?”
He saw the way her eyes widened when he used her full name and made a mental note to do it more.
“Nothing,” she unwrapped her bagel with gusto. “I want the street to be like this. Quaint, original, charming. Why do you look at it and think it has to change?”
Don’t fight. Don’t say what you’re thinking. “You have a habit of replying to my questions with questions of your own, did you know that?”
She opened her mouth to say something then slammed it shut. She opened the bagel, and inspected the contents, before pushing the plate away. “I don’t eat lox.”
Ordinarily, even he would find that behaviour ruder than a challenge, but it was his vested interest to smooth away her rough edges, so he ignored the childish ingratitude and instead passed his plate toward her. “Let’s swap then. This is plain cream cheese.”
And then he realized: she was baiting him. She was expecting him to respond to her rudeness by getting upset. She wanted him to fight because then she could fight back.
It made him more determined to keep his cool. Or maybe even heat things up, but in a way that was far more beneficial—and satisfying—than fighting.
She took his plate without a word, unwrapped the cream cheese bagel with the same level of anger, and lifted it to her lips. Full, pink lips shaped like Cupid’s bow.
His gut tightened with awareness; he ignored it. Sure, she was sexy, and fiery, and passionate, and all of those things were significant turn-ons for Rocco, but she was also business, first and foremost.
While he might want to resort to his usual playbook of seduction techniques, everything with Maddie had to be considered and measured. She wasn’t just some woman he wanted to get into his bed. If that were to happen—and he’d like it to—it had to serve his purpose. His family’s purpose. There would be other women who didn’t hold the balance of this development in the palm of their hands.
She took a bite of the bagel, her lips full and pink, and momentarily distracting.
“So?” she asked, placing the bagel on her plate. “Was there anything else?”
He regarded her for several beats then stepped forward. Her eyes lifted to his mouth; her lips parted. The air between them sparked with an awareness Rocco knew well—but Maddie did not. He recognized her confusion, her uncertainty, her surprise—and he was prepared to capitalize on it. To play her, to win. He needed this.
Besides, she was waging a war, fighting a losing battle. The house would sell; it was only a matter of time.
“You have cream cheese,” he lied, lifting a finger to just the side of her mouth and wiping it.
Her breath was warm on his hand. Her body seemed to sway forward; her eyes sparked with his.
“You know,” his voice was graveled. “This isn’t the end of the world.”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “It’s not going to happen.”
“What’s not going to happen?” He moved his own body closer to hers, reveling in the feeling of the heat between them.
