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But all she did was raise her glass, sip the wine, and nod. As if she wholly understood what amounted to having conversations out loud with a man who was long dead.
‘It’s an effective way of drilling down to the bare bones of a problem. I do that all the time but with cue cards and the timer on my phone, not exquisite hourglasses like these.’
He narrowed his eyes, drilling through her words to find hidden meaning or mockery. When he didn’t, something unknotted inside him.
‘But I’m guessing it’s also a way of remaining close to him?’ she added.
It was, but he wasn’t about to admit how much he missed the old man’s counsel. His father had cut him off from all avenues of support to teach him a lesson during his banishment. That missed year with his grandfather hurt the deepest. A year he’d never get back thanks to Lauren.
The abrasive reminder pulled him back from the temptation of finding kinship with the woman who’d betrayed him.
Nearly forty-five minutes had passed. Did she intend to use up all her time discussing everything but her brother?
‘Fritter away your time if you must but it won’t be on personal questions about me.’ He injected enough ice in his tone to make her stiffen.
She blinked and looked away, but not before he caught the flash of hurt. He didn’t care. This situation was entirely her own doing.
‘Fine.’ She cast a furtive gaze about before meeting his. ‘I have a copy of Matt’s police report. Would you read it and—?’
‘No.’
Her nostrils flared with vexation. ‘No? Just like that?’
‘There’s no point. I’m nowhere near convinced helping him is in my best interest.’ He didn’t feel inclined to add that he’d had Ali acquire the report and read it to him over his satellite phone when Lauren had returned to her tent for dinner. Nothing contained in the document had convinced him Winchester was innocent.
‘But—’
‘Didn’t we agree that the only way to sway me would be for you to make personal amends? Not with official documents or appeals from absent parents. Only you, Lauren.’
Something about her name rolling off his tongue sent another sensual wave through him. Damn, he was really hard up if that was enough to trigger arousal.
He watched her jump up, his jaw gritting when she commenced pacing in his living room. The layers of material forming her skirt swayed with each movement, granting him a view of supple hips and firm buttocks hidden beneath folds of chiffon. He also knew without parting those folds the killer legs currently shrouded from his gaze. Legs that had held him captive as he thrust hard and true inside her.
She pivoted when she reached the rug-covered wall, her movement understated grace and elegance but no less riveting.
His eyes dropped to the fingers curled around the wine glass she held.
Some part of his psyche seemed bent on torturing him because, with clarity that would probably baffle scientists, he recalled those hands greedily reaching for him, her short nails scouring his back as she lost herself in sexual pleasure.
Lauren had been by far the most responsive lover he’d bedded. As much as he wanted to convince himself otherwise, it’d been a vital part of what he’d regretted most about her when he’d walked away.
Because, what...? He’d retained some lofty idea that their involvement would’ve extended beyond the boundaries of their university lives?
When his entire future had been mapped out since he’d taken his first breath? Back then, a part of him had mocked his belief that things could be different, while another part had been rebelliously hell-bent on finding out for himself. That part still resented her for taking his options away.
In an irregular move, his feelings about that must’ve shown on his face because she stopped mid-pace, her striking eyes widening. ‘W...what are you doing?’
He forced his muscles to relax and raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought it was obvious. I’m looking at you. It’s hard not to when you’re parading in front of me.’
‘I’m hardly parading,’ she threw back tartly but her tongue darted out to slick over her bottom lip, a nervous, tempting impulse she still retained.
He waved a hand at her. ‘Continue. I recall you do your best thinking on your feet. Don’t let me stop you.’
The glare she threw at him almost provoked a smile. ‘And I remember you like to bait your opponents before delivering the coup de grâce. Is that what’s happening here? Are yourelishingthis?’
‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
