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Gian’s face said it all. Clearly shocked, his mouth made an “oh” as in “oh boy” as he swiveled around to talk to someone on his other side.
The guy looked me up and down like the head cheerleader from an opposing squad.
I waited for him to finish. Pretended he had no effect on me when quite the opposite was true. Even sitting on the stool, he exuded power and control.
“I have a few problems,” he said. “But none at the moment. Thanks for asking.”
Addingdismissivetoarrogant prickin describing this guy, I remained calm, knowing he would do the same. Military discipline and all.
“Let me rephrase, then. What’s with the staring?”
Gian nearly spit out his beer. So much for that pretend conversation of his. I would have smiled, except it would completely ruin the effect I was trying to achieve.
“A guy can’t stare at a beautiful woman from across the bar?”
Refusing to acknowledge the hard thud in my chest at his mention of a beautiful woman, I forged ahead.
“Sure, he can. But that’s not what’s going on here, and we both know it.”
His perfect eyebrows rose. “You sure about that?”
Why did his voice have to be so deep and sexy, like an ocean at night that tried to lure you in for a dip, moonlight shining down all peacefully, even though it was beyond dangerous? Waves. Undertow. Not to mention sharks. I was unusually terrified of sharks, given the very remote possibility of ever actually being attacked by one.
“Yes,” I lied. “I am.”
“Hmm.” When he leaned forward, I got my second whiff of him that day. Two too many. “Sorry to say you’re off the mark on this one, Natalie.”
First, could I hate a man but still want him to say my name a hundred more times?
Second, if he was trying to convince me his staring was really just because he thought I was pretty, and this wasn’t some mind game...he was sort of succeeding.
“Be that as it may,” I said, pretending to be completely unaffected. “I just want to be clear about our relationship while you’re in town, Mr. Hayes.”
“Jaxon. Or even better, Jax.”
Hell no. “As I was saying, Mr. Hayes, you and I are on opposite ends of the spectrum with respect to your interest in the inlet property, as I’m sure you know.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.”
“And I might as well go on record and tell you that what you’re doing, trying to purchase protected land, really sucks.”
His mocking smile made me wish I had my beer to dump in his smug face.
“Protected land? Or your own private little happy hour spot?”
Oh, the gall of him. Gian peeked over then, so it didn’t take long to figure out who the Benedict Arnold was.
“I run a community rowing program on that land. For kids. You know, cute little people you obviously don’t give a shit about.”
“Careful making assumptions, Natalie.”
His use of my name was obviously intentional.
“It doesn’t take a huge leap to assume you are buying the land to resell it for a huge profit, and that”—I rubbed my fingers together to indicate cash—“isn’t a huge assumption to think you care about this most of all.”
“You think so?” Mr. Army Ranger, aka Smug-head, asked.
“I know so.”
