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I shrug. “Things may come to those who wait, but only the things left by those who hustle.”
“Ah, so you admit you’re a hustler?”
“I do. Proudly.”
She drags her teeth over her sensuous lower lip. “So, tell me, Mr. Wise Old Rivers, why don’t you date—or, sorry, seduce—much younger women? Is it some sort of firm rule for you, or has it just sort of happened that way?”
Good God, she’s relentless. And I fucking love it. “I haven’t given it much thought. I don’t tend to be in situations where I meet women your age, other than in a business context, which means they’re not a good idea for me to pursue, no matter their age. And, also, if I’m being honest, I’m a sucker for a confident woman—and genuine confidence, in my experience, as opposed to youthful cockiness, or play-acting confidence in mommy’s heels, usually takes a bit of time to develop.”
Oh, I’ve pissed her off now. “‘Play-acting in mommy’s heels’? How condescending.”
I chuckle. “You asked me a question, and I answered it honestly. You don’t like honesty?”
“I like honesty. Just not assholery.”
I laugh heartily. I think she might very well be perfect.
“Just a tip?” she says, twirling a lock of dark hair around her finger. “Don’t look down your nose at me and treat me like I’m a stupid child, which I’m not, if you want to have any shot at ‘seducing’ me. I’ve got a bit of an allergy to assholes, I should warn you, and also a bit of a temper. And I don’t tend to respond well in the face of condescension or assholery.”
My breathing hitches at the blaze in her eyes. The flush in her cheeks. She’s the sexiest little creature I’ve ever beheld. “Duly noted. I apologize. Condescending to you wasn’t my intention.”
“Well, shit, I hope not. If it was, that would make you absolutely terrible at seduction.”
I can’t help laughing my ass off. She’s unleashing the kraken on me in a way that’s making me smile from ear to ear.
“You want to know a secret, Mr. Rivers?” she says conspiratorially. “I truthfully can’t wait to see you take your best shot at seducing me. Don’t get me wrong; I haven’t yet decided if I’m going to let you be successful. But I’m certainly up for watching you try.”
Okay, who’s the liar now? Georgina’s red-hot desire to get absolutely desecrated by me has been written all over her face from the minute she winked at me in the lecture hall.
I lean forward, matching her posture. “Aw, Georgina. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. I’m going to be wildly successful at seducing you, and we both know it. In fact, when the time is right tonight, I’m going to invite you to come to my house. And we both know what you’re going to say in reply when I do.”
She flashes me a snarky look. “I have no idea what I’d say to an invitation like that. Maybe if I had more highly formative life experiences, it’d be a different story. But as it is, I’m too busy play-acting confidence in my mommy’s heels to know what I think or feel or want.”
She flashes me a spicy little look that says, Take that, you condescending prick, and I’m suddenly dizzy with my desire for her.
I bite my lip. “So, it’s gonna be like that, huh?”
“You bet your ass it’s gonna be like that.”
A palpable current of electricity passes between us. Sexual desire that shoots straight into my cock. “All right, beautiful. We’ll go around and around for a while before I extend my invitation. We’ll play a pointless, but highly entertaining, game of cat and mouse, just for the fun of it. But, I promise you, when the game ends, you’re gonna say yes to me.”
She shrugs. “Who knows what I’ll say?” She winks. “But I can’t wait to find out.”
I return her wink. “Let the seduction begin.”
Chapter 8
Reed
“Georgie!” the male bartender shouts from the other end of the bar, making her jerk backwards from our sexy conversation. “You need help over there?”
“No, I’m good!” She returns to me. “You’ve got to order something, or I’m gonna get in trouble.”
I throw down a hundred, order a beer for me, Scotch for Josh, and a gin martini for Henn. “Keep the change, as long as you take your sweet time making that martini.”
“You got it.” She gets to work.
“You’re not even going to pretend to check my ID?” I say teasingly. “Way to make a guy feel old, bartender.”
She slides my beer across the bar. “You already told me you’re thirty-four. Are you saying you’re a liar?”
“I’m saying I could have been lying.”
“Yeah, well, the woman at the panel said you graduated from UCLA a decade ago. So unless you’re one of those baby-geniuses who graduates medical school at age ten, I’m thinking it’s safe to assume you were telling the truth. Also, Wikipedia says you’re thirty-four. And we all know Wikipedia is never wrong.”
