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Instead, my feet slow to a halt. I curse under my breath and angrily swipe to answer.
“I really don’t have time for this, Mr. Baine.” I lean heavily on his name, not even trying to sound cordial.
He’s silent for a second and I know I’ve caught him off guard. “You’re upset. Tell me why.”
No greeting, only a demand. Clipped and direct with concern.
God, I’ve forgotten how velvety dark his voice sounds. It caresses my ear, strokes my senses. If I wasn’t so stung and infuriated, I might not be able to repress the quickening response of my body to his deep, masculine growl. But I bite it back, clamping my molars together in sullen silence as he tries to understand my change of attitude.
“Avery, what the hell is going on?”
“You tell me.”
“You’re angry with me.”
“How brilliant of you to notice.”
“Because I haven’t been in touch until now.” Not a question, but a self-assured statement of fact.
I practically snort in reply. “I’m sure you’d like to think so.”
It’s amazing how convincing that sounds, even to my own ears. Until I’d spoken to Margot, I actually had been upset that he hadn’t called or texted. Now that he’s on the other end of the line, I can’t wait to end this conversation with him and erase the night we spent together from my mind.
“If you think you need to explain or make excuses, Nick, trust me—you don’t.”
“I don’t do anything because I think I have to,” he says, somewhat sternly. “That’s not how I operate.”
I can’t say I’m surprised to hear him admit that. “What do you want, Nick?”
“I’d have thought my text made that clear enough. You’ve been on my mind, Ms. Ross. Ever since our very stimulating conversation the other day. In fact, I’ve thought of little else since.”
Just the mention of what we did together via text makes my body quicken in vivid remembrance. I close my eyes and release a pent-up sigh. “You know what? I can’t do this with you. Not right now.” Not ever again, I vow, and I’m almost desperate enough to believe I actually mean it. “I’m busy, Nick. I have somewhere I need to be and—”
“So early? And on a Sunday besides?” He asks it almost conversationally, but I can hear the seriousness in his tone. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t see how that’s any interest of yours.”
“And yet it is,” he says, unfazed. “Everything about you interests me, Avery.”
God help me, but the way he says my name in that deep voice of his is working its dark magic on me all over again. I should be incensed at his arrogance and offended that he evidently thinks I’m idiot enough to buy what I’m certain is nothing more than a line. Instead, I stand mutely on the sidewalk, all of my anger clogged up in my throat.
When my silence stretches out for a long moment, Nick fills the quiet. “It wasn’t my intent not to contact you these past couple of weeks. Unfortunately, things got in the way. It couldn’t be helped.”
I tell myself that whatever game he’s playing, I’m not going to be party to
it. Real or not, I don’t need his attempts to soothe my anger. I don’t need his consideration. But there is a sober quality to his voice that makes me keep my claws sheathed. At least, for now.
“The day I texted you, I had to leave for Dubai to finalize an acquisition,” he says. “In fact, I only got back to London less than an hour ago.”
“Oh.” I try not to acknowledge the idea that he’s reaching out to me so soon after his return. For all I know, he’s probably lying. He could be, except I hear a sincerity in his words. There’s a faint heaviness in his slow exhalation and in his voice I hear what sounds like genuine weariness. Possibly something deeper.
“The deal dragged out longer than anticipated. It was complicated . . . unpleasant. They tend to be, when one side has its back against the wall.”
I don’t need to ask if he’s talking about his own back. I’m sure Nick conducts his business the same way he does his pleasure, and I can’t imagine he ever finds himself in a position of weakness, no matter what he does. Or with whom.
I realize I’m stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as I listen to him. Moving to the side of the concrete walkway, I let a group of people step by me and wait for Nick to tell me more. As much as I want to deny that I care what he has to say, I’m curious.
And yes, there’s a part of me that’s concerned for what he went through while he’s been gone. If that makes me an even bigger fool now, so be it.
