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“No, notlikea date. An actual date.”
My brows bunched when she began shaking her head. “I can’t.”
“Can’t date?”
“Right.”
“Because you’re seeing someone, or…?”
“Because I don’t date.”
I paused. “You don’t date?”
“Um-um,” she shook her head.
“I hate to break it to you, but we were pretty much just on a date.” I gestured to the deli we’d exited minutes before.
“That wasn’t a date. It was an impromptu lunch. Almost like a business lunch.” Chanel shrugged.
“A business lunch? Do you often kiss men you go on business lunches with?” I almost bust out laughing when her mouth hung open. She obviously thought I’d forgotten about that.
“I was half-drunk, and it was very late.”
I frowned. “It’d been hours since you’d had anything to drink, and you had the presence of mind to work with a client. You weren’t that out of it. Don’t even try that shit.”
She turned her eyes downward. “I can’t believe you called me out like that.”
“Believe it, baby.” I stepped closer. “You only have yourself to blame. You put your lips on mine. Now I can’t wait to taste yours again. Only, next time,” I tipped her chin up with my forefinger, “I want to be able to savor it. Friday night was much too short.” I was close enough to see the vein on the side of her neck beating. I knew my words had their intended effect.
“I don’t date,” she said in a whisper.
“Who’re you trying to convince, you or me?” I stepped back, putting my hands in my pockets.
Her face turned defiant, and goddammit if that didn’t turn me on even more.
“I don’t need to convince anyone of anything. I don’t date,” she hissed.
“Why not?”
“Oh, geez, because I haven’t met many men worth my time. So why waste it when I have food and a perfectly good entertainment center and enough double A batteries at home?” The scorn in her voice was apparent.
“Damn.” I whistled low.
“You’re gonna call me bitter now, right?”
I shook my head. “No. Jaded, yeah. Maybe all this time spent working on divorce cases has taken its toll.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “Either way, I don’t date.”
“Yeah, okay. We’ll see.” I grinned at her confusion. Her little diatribe may have been enough to scare off other dudes, but I wasn’t them.
“You should get back to work.” I gave her a deadpan expression when she looked at me curiously, as if she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Okay.” She walked back into the office building. I remained where I was long enough to see her look back over her shoulder. Grinning, I gave her a two-finger salute, and she hurried back upstairs.
****
Chanel
