his hands. "Okay, you win. Serious. They asked about real estate, your college. We discussed the baseball season and whether or not the international commodities market is ever going to stabilize."
She closed her right eye and started to apply the makeup. "So nothing dangerous?"
"Not a word. However, tonight could be a different story. It's the banquet for the prodigal daughter. There'll be a fatted calf and tons of questions. So do you want to discuss our stories or should I wing it again?"
She thought about his description of their supposed first meeting. He'd painted such a vivid picture of her hangover on some tropical island that she'd nearly believed him herself. But she couldn't risk more outrageous tales. Not if she planned on coming clean later.
She closed the compact and reached for a pencil eyeliner. "I would need your word that this information would be kept strictly confidential," she warned, still suspicious of his motives.
He stalked toward the counter. She turned to stare at him.
"What are you so damned afraid of?" he asked, obviously irritated. "You can't simply answer the question. You always have to qualify everything. Gee, Hannah, are you afraid you might accidentally reveal something of yourself? The world would probably end if you let someone get to know you, right? In case you haven't noticed, I'm up here because of you . I'm doing this for you . I don't get a damn thing out of it, so maybe you could start acting a little more like a team player and a little less like the lady of the manor."
His harsh words shocked her, mostly because they hit so close to home. "You're not doing it for me," she snapped. "Don't pretend you are. You're just in it for the money."
"Four hundred bucks? Compared to what I normally make in a few days? Get real."
She stared at him. He had her there. He made and lost millions every month. Why was he doing this? It couldn't be for her. Somehow that thought was more terrifying than a grilling quiz by all her relatives.
"Listen, Nick. I don't care why you're here. I'm paying you to look good and keep your mouth shut. That's our deal. If you're not up to it, then leave."
The sharp retort came from fear and she would have given anything to call it back. Something flickered in his blue eyes. Something dark and cold. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought she'd hurt his feelings.
Yeah, right. Nick Archer didn't care about her. He couldn't.
He turned away. She placed her hand on his back to keep him from leaving. His thick muscles bunched against her fingers and her mouth got dry. She would have paid a whole lot more than ten dollars if he would kiss her right now.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "You're right. I am afraid." He would think she was referring to her family, when in truth they were a lot less scary than her confusing feelings about him. "I didn't mean it. This whole thing has me rattled. Maybe if it was only my mom. But there's everyone else, too. I spoke without thinking." She let her hand fall to her side.
Just when she expected he would walk out of the room and out of her life, he faced her and shrugged. "No big deal. Favorite food?"
"Scallops."
He shuddered. "Little white round things. No thanks. I don't even want to think about eating them. Least favorite food?"
She returned to the mirror and penciled in eyeliner. " Brussels sprouts."
"I'll agree with you on that one. When and where did you lose your virginity?"
She laughed. "Don't push it, buster."
"Hey, they might ask."
"Yeah. When and where did you lose yours?"
"The back seat of a Mustang. Her name was Mary and she had these…" He cupped his hands in front of his chest, then grinned. "I was barely seventeen, so I was impressed. I think it took all of fifteen seconds."
She reached for her mascara. "Is there anything you won't talk about?"
"Sexually? Nope."
"And sex is the most important thing in your life?"
He winked. "What did you have in mind?"
"You're hopeless."
"You're not
She closed her right eye and started to apply the makeup. "So nothing dangerous?"
"Not a word. However, tonight could be a different story. It's the banquet for the prodigal daughter. There'll be a fatted calf and tons of questions. So do you want to discuss our stories or should I wing it again?"
She thought about his description of their supposed first meeting. He'd painted such a vivid picture of her hangover on some tropical island that she'd nearly believed him herself. But she couldn't risk more outrageous tales. Not if she planned on coming clean later.
She closed the compact and reached for a pencil eyeliner. "I would need your word that this information would be kept strictly confidential," she warned, still suspicious of his motives.
He stalked toward the counter. She turned to stare at him.
"What are you so damned afraid of?" he asked, obviously irritated. "You can't simply answer the question. You always have to qualify everything. Gee, Hannah, are you afraid you might accidentally reveal something of yourself? The world would probably end if you let someone get to know you, right? In case you haven't noticed, I'm up here because of you . I'm doing this for you . I don't get a damn thing out of it, so maybe you could start acting a little more like a team player and a little less like the lady of the manor."
His harsh words shocked her, mostly because they hit so close to home. "You're not doing it for me," she snapped. "Don't pretend you are. You're just in it for the money."
"Four hundred bucks? Compared to what I normally make in a few days? Get real."
She stared at him. He had her there. He made and lost millions every month. Why was he doing this? It couldn't be for her. Somehow that thought was more terrifying than a grilling quiz by all her relatives.
"Listen, Nick. I don't care why you're here. I'm paying you to look good and keep your mouth shut. That's our deal. If you're not up to it, then leave."
The sharp retort came from fear and she would have given anything to call it back. Something flickered in his blue eyes. Something dark and cold. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought she'd hurt his feelings.
Yeah, right. Nick Archer didn't care about her. He couldn't.
He turned away. She placed her hand on his back to keep him from leaving. His thick muscles bunched against her fingers and her mouth got dry. She would have paid a whole lot more than ten dollars if he would kiss her right now.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "You're right. I am afraid." He would think she was referring to her family, when in truth they were a lot less scary than her confusing feelings about him. "I didn't mean it. This whole thing has me rattled. Maybe if it was only my mom. But there's everyone else, too. I spoke without thinking." She let her hand fall to her side.
Just when she expected he would walk out of the room and out of her life, he faced her and shrugged. "No big deal. Favorite food?"
"Scallops."
He shuddered. "Little white round things. No thanks. I don't even want to think about eating them. Least favorite food?"
She returned to the mirror and penciled in eyeliner. " Brussels sprouts."
"I'll agree with you on that one. When and where did you lose your virginity?"
She laughed. "Don't push it, buster."
"Hey, they might ask."
"Yeah. When and where did you lose yours?"
"The back seat of a Mustang. Her name was Mary and she had these…" He cupped his hands in front of his chest, then grinned. "I was barely seventeen, so I was impressed. I think it took all of fifteen seconds."
She reached for her mascara. "Is there anything you won't talk about?"
"Sexually? Nope."
"And sex is the most important thing in your life?"
He winked. "What did you have in mind?"
"You're hopeless."
"You're not
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