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“And yet, you’re still here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not leaving until I take you home.”
She stared at him. Maybe she was hearing things? She’d rather go home with … well, just about anybody. “It’s funny,” she said.
“What’s funny?”
“That you apparently suffered a blow to the head sometime between this morning and now.” Maybe he’d suffered it earlier. Maybe that was why he thought there was any likelihood of her letting him anywhere near her.
“My head is fine, thanks.”
“Not possible. Because a rational man would not expect a woman whose life he just ruined to go home with him.”
He tilted his head, amusement clear in his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to come home with me, I said I was taking you home.”
His words slowly penetrated the tequila fog. “I’m not sure there’s a difference. The answer is still no.”
“Maggie. You’re drunk.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Which means someone needs to see you home safely.” He paused, looked around. “You don’t know anybody else here, do you?”
She shook her head. “No. But you know what New York has? Cabs. Lots and lots of lovely cabs, willing to take me wherever I want to go.”
“People get into trouble in cabs.”
She peered at him. “Mr. Winters. No one could possibly cause me any more trouble than you have already.”
“Nevertheless. I like your dad and I don’t want to have to explain to him why I didn’t see you home.”
“If you like my dad, you wouldn’t have done what you did today.”
“I didn’t force your father to sell,” Alex said. “He was ready.”
“I wasn’t ready.”
“So I gather. But that’s a conversation for a time when you haven’t had quite so much tequila.”
“I doubt I’ll like you any better sober.”
“Pity. Now, are you going to let me take you home?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, then.” He nodded at the bartender. “Perhaps it’s time for coffee?” He pulled out his wallet, extracted a couple of fifties. “Will this cover her tab?”
“You are not paying for my drinks.” Maggie fumbled for her purse in outrage. She wasn’t taking a penny from Alex Winters.
The bartender froze, his hand halfway toward Alex’s money. His eyes slid toward Alex, as if seeking instruction, which only made her temper worse. Goddamn it, did the whole world want to kowtow to him? She extracted her credit card and shoved it toward the bartender. “There.” She looked at Alex. He was regarding her with amusement. “You want to argue?”
His dimple flashed again. “This is a nice jacket. I’d rather not wear tequila.”
She stuck her nose in the air. “As if I’d waste good tequila on you.”
