"Yes." I hold her gaze, letting her see the truth for herself. "That's exactly what I'm saying, Tia."
"But you're…"
"What?"
"You," she finally whispers.
"And you're you," I murmur, running my thumb over her bottom lip. "You think I said no at the wedding because I didn't want you? Hell no. I haven't waited this long for you, just to rush it when you'd regret it."
"Briggs," she whispers, a warning and a plea in her shaking voice. "You promised you'd be on your best behavior."
"This is my best behavior, beautiful."
"How is this possibly your best behavior?" she hisses, her eyes darting around the restaurant. But we're in the back corner, and everyone else is occupied with their own conversations and lives. They don't give a shit about me and mine, not here. I'm personanon grata, just another motherfucker in a suit, enjoying dinner. "You just said…"
"I know what I said," I murmur when she trails off like she can't even repeat the sentence. "You think I'm lying?"
"I…I…"
"Not every hockey player is a Daniel Jordan, Tia. Some of us know what the fuck we want, and we're willing to wait until we find it. You think we all make it this far without a little self-control?" I quirk a brow at her. "I've met your brother. I know you know better."
His sex life is none of my business, but I know his reputation. He didn't fuck around or jump from relationship to relationship. He was never linked with anyone until he met Evie. There are a lot more of us who know how to keep it in our pants than people like to imagine.
"That's not the point," she mutters.
"Then what is the point?"
"The point is…you can't just say things like that!" she cries softly, and then grimaces, slouching down in the booth with a dark glower.
"I was just being honest with you. Figured you might appreciate knowing where I stand, beautiful." I want her comfortable with me. Ineedher to trust me. And given her history, she needed to know that I'm not the kind of guy willing to turn sleeping with her into some sick game. When we get there, it'll mean something.
She grumbles wordlessly, reaching for her wine.
I chuckle when she drinks half the glass in one fell swoop, still looking frazzled. Fuck, I think I like knowing I put that look on her face—the one that says she doesn't know what to make of me. I like that I'm defying all her expectations and toppling every fucked-up image Daniel Jordan put into her head. I likethat she's seeing me, not some preconceived notion, stereotype, or prick from her past, butme.
"This is a business meeting," she finally says, grasping at the last straw she has like it's a lifeline.
I decide to let her have it, mostly because I don't want to push too far, not yet. And partly because she's right. This is a business meeting, and I don't want her thinking that I don't take that seriously. I may have gotten into this with ulterior motives, but that doesn't mean I won't work like a fucking dog to come through for her and the kids her organization supports.
"Then let's talk business," I say, leaning back in the booth.
She eyes me like she thinks I'm up to something, but I just grin, motioning for her to get on with it.
She huffs softly, tossing her head. "An athletic endowment."
"What about it?"
"I think that should be your primary focus."
"And why is that?"
"Um, because you're an athlete?" she retorts. "If you're working to fund an athletic endowment, people will be more likely to listen because they view you as an expert."
My lips twitch. "Is this you telling me that you don't think I'm an education expert?"
"I just think we should use you where you'll do the most good, that's all."
"You know I have a degree in engineering, right?"
