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“On Wentworth business?” She sat up straighter. “Why didn’t you say? I only have to make a call to get a shift change.”
He frowned at the TV. “Could do that myself. Not company business.”
She ignored the annoyance she’d stirred by suggesting he couldn’t sort out his own shift supervisor. “You have a second job? Don’t we pay you well enough?” She meant that as a joke, though as soon as it was out of her mouth it sounded exactly what it was—patronising and crass. Here they sat in her multi-million dollar apartment and Mace was paid a small fraction of what she earned and would never have the chance to build the kind of future she was aiming for.
“You pay me fine for what you ask me to do. Market rate.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so—”
“Condescending.”
“Yes.”
He looked up at the ceiling at the exposed beams and pipes of the warehouse conversion. “Comes with the territory.”
She deserved that. “I’m curious about what you’d be doing today, why you wanted to leave so badly?”
“You think I wanted to get away from you?”
“I think you were more worried about blowing Dillon off than hanging out with me, even before this all happened.”
Mace shifted so he was facing her. “I didn’t pick you for the hanging out type.”
She inclined her head at that. He was right. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had nothing to do, or wanted to spend time with someone other than Jay. Why would he think hanging out with her was going to be any fun? She dropped her head and laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. That line about me wearing suits on the weekend.”
“I was going for offensive.”
She looked up. He was watching her, a wicked little twist to his lips, brow quirked. He really didn’t care what she thought about him. It was surprisingly attractive.
“Are you treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen with all the girls?”
“Only the ones I like.”
She dragged her knees under her and knelt up. “Oh-ho, what?” Was he flirting? Maybe. He was like an oyster all craggy and rough, unapproachable on the outside, but there’d be soft flesh inside and the possibility of a pearl. But she could easily slice her own hands open trying to get at the meat and value of him.
“Don’t get excited.” He faced back around to the TV. “I like it here better than in the foyer. I’m attempting to be personable so you don’t kick me out.”
“So this is you manipulating the circumstances.”
“Gotta use the resources you’ve got.”
“And you didn’t think whisking me back to bed might get you temporary residency?”
He picked up the remote and shifted it hand to hand. “I’m not that kinda guy.”
She sat back on her butt, laughing. “You’re exactly that kind of guy. I insulted your intelligence and you still came home with me.”
He tried not smiling, but the muscle of his cheek contracted and that sardonic curl of his lip was back. Put him in a tux, grow out the close crop and he’d give off 1940s movie villain.
“So if you’re not going to kiss me stupid, tell me what else you’d be doing today: rock climbing, bushwalking, skydiving, five rounds with a heavyweight before hitting the clubs tonight?”
He muted the TV and turned his head to watch her. “On Saturdays I don’t pay for a nurse to feed Buster. I do that myself.”
She sniffed a breath and stilled.
