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I open my mouth to protest when he continues.
“Answer the question, but this time tell me the truth.”
Why do I feel like I need tohidethe truth? I didn’t do anything wrong, and he’s not the type that will hurt me.
Well, I don’tthinkhe will.
He’s protective… I think?
When I don’t answer at first, he ever-so-slightly raises his brows. “I think I may have misled you,” he says in that low, carnal, sensual voice of his. Is it a sin to melt from listening to a man speak?
“How’s that?” I feel hot and cold and my skin’s all prickly. I try to swallow but it doesn’t help this time.
I’ve been wanting to see him again, but now that he’s here, I’m wondering why all I want to do is hide.
“I seem to have led you to believe I’m a patient man.”
Oh.
Oh my.
I take a shaky breath. “I… No, sir, you haven’t.”
A slow blink.
They say that brown eyes are the most common in the world… but not his. His are beautiful and distinctive, a rich, warm tone with a depth that calls to me. Even if his voice is cold and his manner aloof, he can’t hide the warmth and intelligence in his eyes. If he walked away right now and I never saw him again, I’d remember what it felt like to be captured in his gaze until the day I died.
“Then answer the question.”
Question. Answer the question. What question? I force myself to focus.
“I went out for a walk,” I tell him truthfully, confusing even myself with my hesitation. I’m probably afraid I’m going to blurt out the real truth.
Because I was pouting that I hadn’t seen you.
I continue, somehow feeling the need to justify my behavior. “I was bored, and I didn’t have any work to do, and even though you asked me not to explore the club, I’m free to explore the city, so that’s what I was going to do.”
A muscle tenses in his jaw.
“Alone?”
Uh, maybe not such a good idea?
I lick my lips and swallow. I gesture at the little mud ball in my arms. “Well, notalonealone.”
The pup is squirming and whining. Maybe he doesn’t like to be held, and I don’t want to ruin these nice clothes with dirt, so I put him down. He sniffs my foot. Walks over to Sergio, sniffs around some more, andpees. I clamp my hand over my mouth, so I don’t burst out laughing.
No.
“Motherfucker,” Sergio growls. I stifle a gasp.
“I’ve never in my life heard someone who uses as many cuss words as you.”
“The dog just fuckingpeedon me,” he growls, shaking off his foot. “And welcome to Boston. Tell me you’re not bringing this little piece of – this mutt into my club.”
The look he’s giving me dares me to defy him.
Well, I’m not going to leave this dog on the street to be kicked by another grumpy runner. And Sergio doesn’t ever need to evenseehim.
