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“I’m always looking for the next ex-Mrs. Brentwood,” he grinned, and I rolled my eyes.
“You’re certainly in the right business, then,” I said snarkily, but Roarke just kept smiling.
“I am. Divorce is a part of life, right along with death and taxes.”
“I just don’t believe that,” I said stubbornly. “I believe in true love.”
“Do you believe in the tooth fairy, too?” he teased, and I frowned, not in the mood to be talked down to.
“No, and before you ask, I don’t believe in Santa Claus anymore, either. But my father loved my mother until the day she died, and someday, I want that kind of love.”
“It happens for barely anybody,” Roarke argued. “It’s a myth for most of us.”
“Maybe for you,” I shot back. “But maybe you’re just not anyone’s Mr. Right.”
“I would settle for being someone’s Mr. Right Now,” Roarke drawled. “You interested in the position?”
I scoffed. “God, no. You’re so damn full of yourself. You know that? It’s not even that you’re not attractive. You’re just… full of ego and a pain in the ass.”
“So, what I’m hearing is that you think I’m attractive,” Roarke said, standing up to throw away the stupid salad he was eating.
I let out a long breath and stood up, gathering my things and putting my files back into my briefcase.
“I think I better go before you make me blow your top.”
“No, stay,” Roarke insisted. “I’d like to see what happens when you really lose it.”
“Why would you want that?” I asked, exasperated, turning around.
He took a step toward me. “You seem like one of those women who might be hot when she’s angry,” he murmured in a low tone, and I hated the way his voice sent a shiver through me.
Roarke was standing too close to me, so close that if he so much as tilted his head his nose would brush against mine. I put my hands up on his chest, intending to push him out of my way so that I could exit the room behind him, and I tried. But he didn’t move a muscle, just standing there, looking down at me. His chest was firm beneath my palms, his green eyes half-lidded as he looked down at me.
“Stay for a while,” he said in that same low tone. “Let’s see if you’re as much of a wildcat in bed as you are in court.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I hissed, but it came out weak, and he leaned his head down, pressing his forehead against mine.
“What’s the matter, Riley? You scared you’ll start to like me?”
“No danger in that,” I snapped, but again, my voice came out quiet and weak. God, why was I reacting like this? Why was he even flirting with me? Just to get under my skin? And why was it working?
What the hell was wrong with me? What was I thinking? I couldn’t want Roarke Brentwood to kiss me, no way. No matter how hot he was. And why was I thinking of him as hot?
I pulled away from him before his lips touched mine, backing up against the door and leaving without another word.
When I got back to my office, Mark Windham was waiting for me, frowning as he stood outside my door.
“Hi. I’ve missed you these last few weeks,” he said softly, and I flushed, looking down as I fumbled for the key to my office.
“Been working out of my office,” I said weakly. Mark was really a nice guy. I liked how he always took the time to say hi and often wondered if he was building up to asking me out, but then I remembered I would have to turn him down because I was too busy.
So why had I just almost kissed Roarke fucking Brentwood? Maybe I was coming down with something. I couldn’t imagine what the hell was going on with me that I almost kissed my mortal enemy, the man I hadn’t been able to stand the whole time we’d been working together.
“Did you already have lunch?” he asked.
“I did,” I said, doing my best to sound mournful. “I’ve got this new case and I’ve just been slammed, Mark, I’m sorry,” I apologized.
“No worries,” he said, smiling. “Maybe we’ll catch up later this week?”
