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Bet she didn’t have her brother’s death on her hands.
He lifted the shot to his mouth, then paused. “Ever think what they have isn’t what they want?”
“The grass isn’t always greener on the other side.”
“Sometimes it is.” Sometimes it’s a hell of a lot greener.
“You all have the world served up on a platter and you still lie and cheat and do drugs and drink.”
He got that she referred to Hollywood in general, but with her use of you, he took personal offense. Holding her gaze, Trent tossed back the whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before lowering the shot glass. At least his hand was steady now.
“I’ve never cheated and I definitely don’t do drugs.” He let his mouth curve into a smirk and infused as much derision as possible into his next words. “I suppose you don’t even drink.”
She sniffed her judgmental little nose and he laughed.
Her gaze narrowed to an even deadlier glare. “I’m not a prude.”
He poured again, taking measured steps until he stood in front of the chair, whiskey bottle in one hand, shot glass in the other. He lifted one brow in silent challenge and waited for her to chicken out.
She reached up. His initial surprise doubled when she snatched the bottle instead of the shot.
Holding his gaze, she lifted the Glen Grant to her lips and tipped the bottle skyward. He counted three deep swallows before her eyes widened. A second later, her next mouthful spewed all over him and her lap as she doubled over and braced the bottle on the floor. Hacking coughs shook her whole body and turned her face beet red.
Trent shook his head as he leaned down to remove the bottle from her unresisting fingers. He ran a glass of water at the bar and returned to squat in front of her. She guzzled the water as fast as she had the whiskey, only this time her expression reflected relief.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
He braced a hand on either side of the chair to look her straight in the face. “Like I said, one of us has to be smart about this.”
The red hue tingeing her cheeks deepened and her eyes blazed. Damn, they were something else, framed by those thick, sable lashes.
“I thought we were going to switch cars and then go get a new battery.” Her hoarse voice caught on another cough. “Unless you have a computer the memory card might fit? The sooner this is over, the better.”
He wholeheartedly agreed, and averted his gaze to his watch. It was a little after two. “Unfortunately, I fried my laptop last week with a cup of coffee. And no, I don’t have a desktop,” he added, anticipating her next question. “As for the battery, we’ve got about an hour before the shops open again.”
“Lucky me.”
He smiled at her sarcasm and let his gaze roam over her face, taking in her windblown, knotted brown hair and the dark circles under her striking eyes. She might have a nice pair of lips, but it was hard to tell for sure with them stretched in a permanent frown above her small, stubborn chin.
“Much as I’d enjoy your cheerful company for the next hour, you look like hell.”
“No thanks to you,” she retorted.
“No thanks necessary, sugar pie.” He patted her thigh and stood. The flash of lightning in those eyes was worth the stinging slap she gave his hand. He grinned. “Didn’t you say earlier that you haven’t been to your hotel since getting off the plane?”
“You mean you actually heard something that didn’t directly concern you?”
“Shocking, I know. And yet, I bet you’d love a shower right now.” When she didn’t offer a smart-ass refusal right away, he looked over to see pride warring with the thought of washing away the travel grime after a long flight and the added stress of being shot at and abducted.
Abducted? Crap, she was starting to wear off on him. He’d saved her, not kidnapped her.
“A smart woman would just say yes,” he pointed out.
Pride took over, but a second later her expression smoothed out and she offered him a sweet smile. Her face transformed and yes, she did have a nice mouth.
A kissable mouth.
“You’re right,” she said. “A shower sounds great.”
