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He glanced at her, briefly frowning. “Why wouldn't I. Mother introduced us.”
“But I didn't honestly think you took note.”
Dexter didn't like that comment. More reason because it was true. He never, ever, took note of people let alone their names, unless of course they were useful to him or business. Certainly not a little someone, at a function of no concern, in a room full of nobodies.
But, at that moment, when their fear was about to be realized, he had no difficulty in shouting out her name in order for her to move like the bullet.
“Don't flatter yourself. You share your name with my secretary,” he lied.
“I wasn't flattering myself.” He immediately brought her to the defense. “You barely looked my way, let alone acknowledged me.”
“There was no need.”
“No need?” Laura's jaw dropped. “How can you be so rude?”
“Comes naturally, I suppose.” He hadn't even flickered at her insult.
Appalled, she stared at him. Then, “Please put me down.”
He ignored her, simply tightening his grip as he continued cautiously upward. “My dear Miss Witherow, if you honestly believe you've been the first to tell me that, then you're mistaken. I'm not famous for my charm.”
She felt utterly sick. How could anyone actually appear to enjoy this type of reputation? Desperately, she needed to get as far away from this man as possible, as if it could possibly be contagious.
Kicking her legs, she felt him heave a deep sigh before he allowed his arms to give way and allowed her to drop to the ground. Standing on her own two feet in the snow once again, she turned on him. On the verge of telling him exactly what she thought of him, it struck her.
“You called me Miss Witherow.” A smile appeared and began to spread across her face. “Does your secretary share my last name as well?”
The strained mug he bit hard to control did little for his cover. “Don't be foolish. It's just a bloody name—”
At that point, however, she was outright laughing at him.
“For pity’s sake!” With an angry jerk, he moved away from her. “This is ridiculous. I'm getting out of this ravine now—”
Laura followed him, cold feet and all. “Fraud.”
“Confounded woman, stop it. You are one vexing female who I've had the misfortune of being trapped in a gorge with, let alone meeting.”
He was really angry now. Maybe she pushed him too far. But the truth was, as she knew it, under that hard cold exterior was a warm caring man who desperately needed softening. She tripped over her clumsy frozen feet, and would have landed on her knees in the snow if Dexter hadn’t instinctively reached out and gripped her elbow, stopping her from falling. Clearly, he was still seething with anger, yet he bent and swung her back into his arms. She smiled her thanks, which he completely ignored.
“No need to get so mad.” Deciding it might be best to get on his good side, if he had a good side, she told him, “You're right. It's simply a name. People remember them all the time.”
“Are you making fun of me?” He glared down at her. “Because if you are, let me inform you I have little tolerance for humor.”
“Big surprise.”
He looked as if he wanted to throttle her. “You don't get it do you?”
“Get what?” They were moving upward again at a precarious angle. Laura tightened her hold on his neck.
He grasped her closer in response. “I dislike people and they dislike me. It's quite a congenial relationship.”
“From whose point of view?”
“Now you see,” he jeered, “that’s the ironic part. If I actually cared—I'd give a damn.”
Laura winced. “What about your family? You're mother?”
His face hardened. “We've gone too far with this conversation. Consider it dropped.”
