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She looked uneasy. “It’s better if I don’t. Don’t worry, I put him in his place.”
A vision came to me. My big hands wrapped around this man’s throat. I didn’t need to know what he looked like to picture committing bodily harm. The vision pleased me.
“He’d better stay the hell away from you,” I snarled. “I can’t be responsible for what happens to him if he doesn’t.”
Melanie’s eyes widened. I couldn’t tell if she was alarmed or amused by my sudden outburst. Normally I wasn’t a violent guy. But somehow when it came to Melanie, my protective instincts came boiling straight to the surface.
“Don’t worry,” she said in a quiet voice, and I thought she seemed a little touched by my concern. “I’m sure he will.”
“He sounds like a real asshole.”
She mulled that over. “Funny, how you can work with someone for two years and not really know him after all. I always thought Braxton was easygoing and respectful. It wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong, I guess.”
I was still imagining all sorts of terrible things befalling this Braxton dude. “He doesn’t sound like your type in the first place.”
Her eyebrows rose, and she snorted. “And what the hell does that mean? What do you know about my type, Dominic?”
“I just have a natural gift for sorting people out,” I said.
“Well, too bad your magical gifts weren’t around to stop me from marrying the wrong guy,” she shot back.
“Yeah, it is too bad,” I agreed, feeling a little surprised. “Because he was a fucking idiot.”
She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t told you a thing about James.”
“You don’t have to. He let you go. So he’s a fucking idiot.”
Melanie faltered. I saw her swallow hard.
“He is a fucking idiot,” she said softly. She looked away, and when her gaze returned to me, her eyes were narrowed. “As for your so-called natural gift for sorting people out, I suppose that’s why you set such high standards for yourself.”
There was sarcasm mixed in with her words. I could hear it.
A smart guy would have stopped the conversation right there and switched to something harmless like the furniture invoices that waited on the counter. However, I was enjoying myself far too much, and I never considered myself smart.
“You know about my standards?” I asked, circling around her so she had to glance over her shoulder to keep an eye on me.
“I know a little,” she announced haughtily.
“Is that so?” I asked slowly and got close enough to pluck an imaginary piece of lint from the shoulder of her blazer. To her credit she didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink.
“I’ve seen what your type is,” she said with a vague tone of disgust.
I crossed my arms and peered down at her. Even though she wore high heels, I had a solid eight-inch height advantage. I was treading on dangerous ground. I knew it. But dammit she’d opened the door to this topic, and I really wanted to hear what Melanie Cruz thought she knew about me.
That freaking blazer she wore was driving me nuts. It was ridiculous to dress like that in this place, and in this overbearing heat. I kept the temperature cool in the restaurant, but she must get hot as hell the second she stepped outside. I was hot as hell just looking at her.
“What did you see, and who did you see me with?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Melanie sighed. “Look, I wasn’t going to bring this up, but you were at Casa Rienti the same time I was there with Braxton. I saw you with your friend and your dates. You looked pretty cozy, and I could swear she was about to give you a public lap dance. It would have been awkward to say hello, so I didn’t.”
Now things made sense. When Jason had begged me to tag along on his twin extravaganza, I’d figured: Why the hell not? It would be nice to have a night out with no strings attached. Briana and her sister Rhiana were friendly and outgoing and stacked like centerfolds, but I’d found my mind wandering throughout dinner. Jason yelled at me this morning when he learned I’d driven Briana straight home and passed up an invitation for a “nightcap”—whatever the hell that meant. Briana hadn’t been too thrilled I’d declined either. Her pink, petallike lips thinned in fury before she bolted out of my truck and stalked back to her apartment. She probably wasn’t used to being passed up. Once upon a time I wouldn’t have thought twice about following her upstairs. Maybe my brother’s morals were finally rubbing off on me. Or maybe it was time to grow the fuck up and invest in a woman I actually took seriously.
Melanie was waiting for my response. I tried to think of a diplomatic way to say, “Hey, I didn’t nail that chick,” but nothing I came up with sounded very appropriate. Anyway, Melanie shouldn’t care who I was screwing or not screwing.
But she did care. She cared a lot.
I could tell from the way she stiffened her back and kept her lips pursed together as she lectured me on my so-called standards. I imagined her sitting there at Casa Rienti beside Fuck Face Braxton and glaring at me from the other side of the restaurant. And I liked knowing that it bothered her to see me with someone else. I liked it way too much.
