As if from a great distance, I heard Charlotte cough again.
I narrowed my eyes to slits. "Exactly. Do you think I'd be doing this if I weren't utterly desperate and if you weren't my Very. Last. Option? So, throw the money in my face if you will, but don't act like you don't need me, too. Don't act like you're not just as desperate as I am. And don't act like I'm not your best and only prospect. You said it yourself. For someone who came here begging, you'd be wise to treat me with some respect."
Her cheeks flared with even more color. "Begging?" she hissed. "Begging?" Heavy cascades of dark fire fell around her face as her hair came completely loose from whatever she'd been using to hold it back. I almost sucked in a breath. I hadn't realized she had so much of it. It surrounded her face and swung around her shoulders, looking as if it went halfway down her back.
She stood up slowly and I did, too, until we were both glaring at each other across the expanse of the kitchen table. The air between us crackled with . . . something, the heat in the air practically shimmering. And strangely, that tingling heat was now dancing through my blood in a full-blown performance much like the African welcome dance Kira had described, making me feel vitally . . . alive.
"I was crazy to come here. This," she waved between us, "is crazy. It'll never work. We should call it off. I could find someone else to marry. I can't imagine why I chose you. I find you . . . exceedingly difficult to like."
"I agree. It's ridiculous. And vice versa."
"Good. It's off," she hissed.
"Good," I growled. We stared each other down, her eyes dancing with angry fire. And why the hell did I like that so much? After several tense, heated moments, I made a conscious effort to control my breathing, raising an eyebrow at her. "And by the way, next time you offer to marry someone, you should try to be a little more meek. A man likes some obedience in a wife."
More fire glowed in her eyes and another undeniable thrill shot down my spine. "Charlotte," she suddenly said very sweetly. "Do you have a pen and paper I could borrow?"
"Oh yes," Charlotte said, grabbing a pen and pad of paper out of the junk drawer and practically running it over to Kira, as if she were suddenly at her beck and call.
I watched Kira closely, waiting to see what she would do next.
Kira smiled politely at Charlotte and then uncapped the pen carefully, putting it on the end with deliberate slowness, and then holding the pad of paper up, the pen poised before it. "What was that now? I want to make sure I get every single word of wise advice," she said, stretching out the word every. "Meek, was it? Does that have double e or is it ea? I can never remember."
I regarded her through lowered lashes, resisting the urge to laugh at her ridiculous display of sarcasm. "I wouldn't worry so much about the spelling of the word meek as how to embrace the concept."
"Hmm," she hummed. "And obedient, you said?"
"Yes."
"Obedient—yes." She made a big check mark on the paper. "And?"
"Your sharp tongue—that will be a turnoff to future husbands."