into a chair and motioning for her to join him. She grabbed a second glass from the cabinet and took the seat opposite his.
“Let me guess, you have night vision because you’re secretly a shape-shifter who turns into a leopard.”
He filled her glass and slid it across the table. “I wish. I didn’t want to turn on the light in case Roger stumbled by and wanted a heart-to-heart. Then my flashlight died and I couldn’t be bothered to get up.”
“Really? My flashlight cut out too, on my walk over here.”
His attention sharpened. “The flashlight that was in the cabin when we arrived?”
She nodded.
“We’ll buy new ones tomorrow, in town,” he muttered darkly.
She raised the glass and tilted it to study the amber liquid inside, then raised it to her nose to smell it. As she lowered it to her mouth she looked over the rim to see Warren watching her, his half-smile bemused.
“It’s the real deal, I promise—you can check the label. I brought it from Cape Town. Figured I might need it.”
“It could be homebrew from a shebeen and I wouldn’t know the difference. I’m not nearly as sophisticated as I pretend to be.” She took a sip, letting the fiery liquor burn down her throat and into her stomach.
“I don’t believe you.” He stretched his legs beneath the table, his jeans brushing against hers. “You certainly knew what you were doing at the settlement today.”
Uncharacteristically, she reddened at his praise. “It was good PR, that’s all.”
“It was sincerity, honesty and grace under pressure.”
“All I did was listen. Nothing changed for those people today. They still went to bed on dirt floors without electricity or running water.”
“Listening is the first step. Things will change for them, thanks to you.”
She swallowed a second gulp and looked up sharply. “Hang on, I thought the gold-mining industry was an irredeemable evil. I’d love to think I’ve sold you on the power of corporate social responsibility, but I’m struggling to believe you’re that easily swayed.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I still think profit will always trump people. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have faith in you, specifically.”
She ran her finger around the rim of the glass, unable to acknowledge his flattery. “How’d you become such a cynic, anyway? It’s not like Copley Ventures is any worse than the rest of the diamond miners.”
“It’s not any better, either.” He shrugged. “Moments accumulate over the years. Overhearing my father and grandfather congratulate each other on the insanely cheap price they’d paid to a chieftain, taking lifetime mineral rights on his land. Seeing my uncle on television, testifying in a bribery scandal. All those years of boarding school, never having the right accent in the right place at the right time, too English for South Africa and too South African for England. When I came home I wanted to live on my terms, not stuffed into some corporate matrix where my surname guaranteed annual promotions no matter how badly I performed. I’d been complicit my whole life, fed and housed and educated by diamond money. Accepting it in paycheck form was a step too far.”
“So you have nothing to do with it now? No shares, no income?”
He shook his head. “My sister bought me out when she turned eighteen. She says she’ll sell my shareholding back to me if I ever want it. Market rate, of course.”
“Fair enough.” She smiled. Warren was sexy as hell when he was in high-alert danger mode, and his brooding, intense silence in the face of Roger’s offensive banter had become the highlight of every dinner. But this was her favorite side of him, she decided. Relaxed, thoughtful, hard-won self-disclosures slipping off a whiskey-loosened tongue.
In fact, now that she thought about it, she would very much like to lick the lingering flavor of barley off his lips. And his teeth. And his tongue, for good measure.
She spun the glass on the table,
“Let me guess, you have night vision because you’re secretly a shape-shifter who turns into a leopard.”
He filled her glass and slid it across the table. “I wish. I didn’t want to turn on the light in case Roger stumbled by and wanted a heart-to-heart. Then my flashlight died and I couldn’t be bothered to get up.”
“Really? My flashlight cut out too, on my walk over here.”
His attention sharpened. “The flashlight that was in the cabin when we arrived?”
She nodded.
“We’ll buy new ones tomorrow, in town,” he muttered darkly.
She raised the glass and tilted it to study the amber liquid inside, then raised it to her nose to smell it. As she lowered it to her mouth she looked over the rim to see Warren watching her, his half-smile bemused.
“It’s the real deal, I promise—you can check the label. I brought it from Cape Town. Figured I might need it.”
“It could be homebrew from a shebeen and I wouldn’t know the difference. I’m not nearly as sophisticated as I pretend to be.” She took a sip, letting the fiery liquor burn down her throat and into her stomach.
“I don’t believe you.” He stretched his legs beneath the table, his jeans brushing against hers. “You certainly knew what you were doing at the settlement today.”
Uncharacteristically, she reddened at his praise. “It was good PR, that’s all.”
“It was sincerity, honesty and grace under pressure.”
“All I did was listen. Nothing changed for those people today. They still went to bed on dirt floors without electricity or running water.”
“Listening is the first step. Things will change for them, thanks to you.”
She swallowed a second gulp and looked up sharply. “Hang on, I thought the gold-mining industry was an irredeemable evil. I’d love to think I’ve sold you on the power of corporate social responsibility, but I’m struggling to believe you’re that easily swayed.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I still think profit will always trump people. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have faith in you, specifically.”
She ran her finger around the rim of the glass, unable to acknowledge his flattery. “How’d you become such a cynic, anyway? It’s not like Copley Ventures is any worse than the rest of the diamond miners.”
“It’s not any better, either.” He shrugged. “Moments accumulate over the years. Overhearing my father and grandfather congratulate each other on the insanely cheap price they’d paid to a chieftain, taking lifetime mineral rights on his land. Seeing my uncle on television, testifying in a bribery scandal. All those years of boarding school, never having the right accent in the right place at the right time, too English for South Africa and too South African for England. When I came home I wanted to live on my terms, not stuffed into some corporate matrix where my surname guaranteed annual promotions no matter how badly I performed. I’d been complicit my whole life, fed and housed and educated by diamond money. Accepting it in paycheck form was a step too far.”
“So you have nothing to do with it now? No shares, no income?”
He shook his head. “My sister bought me out when she turned eighteen. She says she’ll sell my shareholding back to me if I ever want it. Market rate, of course.”
“Fair enough.” She smiled. Warren was sexy as hell when he was in high-alert danger mode, and his brooding, intense silence in the face of Roger’s offensive banter had become the highlight of every dinner. But this was her favorite side of him, she decided. Relaxed, thoughtful, hard-won self-disclosures slipping off a whiskey-loosened tongue.
In fact, now that she thought about it, she would very much like to lick the lingering flavor of barley off his lips. And his teeth. And his tongue, for good measure.
She spun the glass on the table,
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