“How’re you doing?” he asked Kendall, sounding genuine, at least.
Kendall closed the gap between them with her gravity-defying chest. “Bored. You?”
Her Tennessean twang was decadent, as if dipped in tempered caramel, and potent, like it never failed to get herwhat she wanted. When Jamie stepped backward, her glossy, baby-pink lips flattened into a frown.
“I’m good,” he said evenly. “But we’re heading out.”
Kendall cocked her head, appraising Brinton like she was for sale. Heavily discounted at the bottom of the bin. The humiliation worsened the longer she looked. “We?”
“Yeah. This is Brinton. She’s here to interview me forLandmark.”
Kendall planted her hands on her waist, ready to blitzkrieg her way to victory. “Well, you and I haven’t talked all night. You’re the host. Can’t ignore your guests. I know your daddy raised you better than that.”
She leaned in. “In fact, I should ask him. You know that I love a spectacle.”
Brinton took the apparent snub on the chin, but Jamie’s eyes darted around nervously. She could feel him squirming under Kendall’s laser. But she could help him this once. If nothing else, for the cover story?
“Jamie, we really should go. I’m on deadline, remember?”
Brinton raised her eyebrow for effect. They traded glances. Were they on the same team now?
Jamie turned back to Kendall. “You’re right. I can’t ignore my guests.” He stepped around her and joined Brinton at her side. “Good night, Kendall. You need a ride home? I can have Michael scoop you up.”
Kendall’s hazel eyes singed holes into Jamie’s for a moment. She clicked her tongue, perhaps a harbinger for the rematch to come.
“Are you serious right now?”
“I am.”
She summoned a nice-nasty smile, something menacing and yet spellbinding. It was quite the secret talent. “You two have a good night,” she spat, striding away with the grace of a vengeful gazelle.
As they watched Kendall go, Jamie’s winning smile returned. “That…was pretty good. I don’t think she’s ever taken no for an answer.”
“First time for everything.” Brinton laughed. “Now you owe me one.”
“Does that mean you trust me now?” he asked, voice low, the sound velvety and rich.
Her stomach folded into an origami swan. Why, she didn’t know. Or at least, she wasn’t ready to interrogate it. “It means I’ll go with you.”
He laughed. “A win’s a win. C’mon, Honeybee. We got a lot to talk about.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Twenty minutes later, Brinton cautiously shifted her feet on the dock and peered across the lake. It looked like darkened glass that threatened to crack beneath her. The dock stretched thirty feet from Crawford Lake’s shore. On each side, two dozen pillars lit the way, casting an amber glow reminiscent of candlelight.
It would have been romantic if not for the lake’s heady aroma. It was faintly sulfuric, reminding her of trash day in the city. The thick, ninety-percent humidity coated her lungs.
Already in the water, Jamie gazed up at her expectantly from a ten-foot row boat tied to the dock.
“Is that thing going to hold us? It looks like a death trap,” she said, leaning over the dock’s edge.
He chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes. Despite the darkness, they still sparkled.
How’d he do that?
“It’s not a death trap,” he said plainly. “It’s a dinghy.”
She crossed her arms. Clearly, he was fucking with her.
