Who's on Top? by Karen Kendall Page A

man was nuts, plain and simple. Would they go bowling for dessert? And whether he was nuts or not, she had to get things back on a professional footing.
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    D OMINIC PULLED OUT J ANE’S chair for her, noting with approval that she’d taken her hair out of that grungy rubber band. Her dark curls flowed freely to just above her shoulders, and he had to restrain himself from running a hand through them. Back off, now, buddy. You’re trying to seduce her, not scare her off.
    He seated himself and accepted a wine list from the waiter. He glanced at Jane’s face before he scanned it. Her firm jaw jutted in sharp contrast to her soft eyes. She was a strong, full-bodied woman with some spice and deep flavor to her. “Red zinfandel,” he said.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œDo you like red zinfandels?”
    Her full, pale pink lips parted, and she straightened in her chair. “They’re my favorite.”
    He smiled. Good guess. He looked forward to running the game at this table, too. He’d sink herevery objection into a handy pocket and sweep her off her feet—and into his bed. Those little whimpers she’d made in the back of her throat when he’d kissed her and pleasured her—sexy as hell—had given her away. She was his for the taking.
    Dom ordered an interesting Australian zin. They made small talk until the waiter brought it to the table, the requisite swirling/tasting was complete and their glasses had been supplied with ample amounts of deep ruby wine. He was preparing to make a toast to her when she preempted him.
    â€œOrder anything you’d like, Sayers. I’ll expense this meal.”
    The romantic potential of their dinner wilted immediately. Sneaky little psych major. He’d bet she’d said it on purpose.
    A change had definitely come over her. She lounged back in her chair and lifted her glass to him quickly before drinking. “Mmm. Nice choice. A little too oaky for my tastes, but quite decent.”
    His mood darkened. “First of all, you’re not paying for this meal or any other while we’re out together. Second, if the wine’s not to your taste, we’ll send it back.”
    â€œOh, Dominic, really. We’re past the millennium, which means you can drop the alpha-male crap. And there’s nothing so wrong with the wine that it needs to go back. It’s fine. Perfectly acceptable.”
    Alpha-male crap? Merely acceptable wine? Ouch. His seduction plans were going horribly awry.Jane was supposed to be under the spell of his male magnetism. He’d had her at his mercy—he knew it instinctively! Where had he lost her? He had to regain control of the situation, get her all soft and mellow and turned on again. Damn it.
    â€œSo tell me about your background, Dom. Where you grew up, parents, siblings, all of that.”
    â€œPerhaps we could order,” he growled, “before you start peeling my psyche like a cabbage? And I never agreed to talk to you, sweet pea. I won. You lost. Match over.”
    â€œCabbage,” she mused. “Interesting image. I think you’re afraid I won’t peel at all—I’ll just chop your cabbage head right into coleslaw.”
    Cabbage head? The waiter interrupted his glare. “Ready to order, sir?”
    â€œYes. The lady would like—”
    â€œThe lady,” Jane interrupted, “would like the shark steak, done medium. Thank you.”
    â€œThe gentleman will have the lamb, rare.”
    â€œVery good, sir.” He vamoosed.
    â€œSo,” said Dom, swirling the wine in his glass, “you like to eat predators, do you?”
    Jane smiled. “Oh, I just have a thing for sharks. I’ve got quite a few of their teeth on a necklace at home.”
    Dom would bet that was a bold-faced lie. She was just making a point; trying to tell him she had notches on her belt. “Really? You’ll have to wear that to Zantyne one of these days.