“Whisky?” he asked softly, his namesake eyes going languid and my heart skipped in my chest.
I ignored his question, his eyes and my heart and leaned back a bit. I wasn’t so far gone into Naughty Girl Martini Land to lose my safety bearings that much.
I went on doggedly. “From what I read in his letters, Uncle Tex respects you. If you told him to use the phone, he might do it.”
“I think it might be a good idea if you leave the phone alone.”
I tilted my head to the side and narrowed my eyes at him.
Before I could say anything, he asked, “Not stubborn?”
“Nope,” I lied immediately.
“Right.” Then he grinned, ful on this time.
“Stop grinning at me, Whisky. I’m not stubborn.”
“Next thing, you’l tel me you’re not high maintenance.” I gasped. “I’m not!”
I was. I was total y high maintenance.
His eyes moved over my face.
“Jesus. Yesterday, if someone told me Tex’s niece looked like you, I would’ve laughed at them. Acted like you, maybe, looked like you, no way.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean stubborn, ful of attitude, a little crazy.”
“I’m not crazy!” I was crazy, though not as crazy as Uncle Tex.
“Right,” Hank said again.
“You’ve known me what? Ten seconds? And you think you have me figured out.”
“Sweetheart, I had you figured out the minute you walked into Fortnum’s.”
I felt my breath catch then lock.
With effort, I unlocked it and exhaled. I decided to push the issue, don’t ask me why, it was stupid. Then again, I was a little hammered (okay, maybe a lot hammered).
“And you think I look high maintenance?”
“Eddie cal ed it and Eddie’s right.”
Good God. They’d been talking about me.
“So that’s why Eddie doesn’t like me,” I said.
His grin faded, his hands fel away and he moved back.
I didn’t like this. I liked his hands where they were, they made me feel warm and, if I was honest, safe.
made me feel warm and, if I was honest, safe.
“Eddie doesn’t have a lot of patience for high maintenance.”
“Eddie doesn’t know me wel enough to throw me and neither do you.”
“Eddie’l get to know you and he’l get over it. I’m already over it.”
I didn’t want him to be over it. I didn’t want him to be anything.
This wasn’t strictly true, but I was trying to go with that thought as best I could considering I was highly inebriated.
Hank was watching me and I could tel he was reading my thoughts.
“How long are you staying in Denver?” he asked.
“Awhile.”
“How long is awhile?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Long enough to have dinner with me?”
Holy cow. I’d read it in Uncle Tex’s letters but now it was right here in front of me. When they wanted something, these Denver boys did not fuck around.
I blinked at him.
“What?” I asked.
“You heard me.”
I blinked again.
“That isn’t a good idea,” I replied and threw out my arm for emphasis.
Unfortunately, the hand attached to my arm was stil carrying a martini and it sloshed al over the bricks paving the backyard and on Hank’s jacket.
“Shit! I’m sorry,” I said, turning to put the glass on a table and starting toward the door, using this as what I considered a golden opportunity to execute an escape plan. “I’l go and get a towel.”
Hank caught my arm and stopped me.
Escape plan thwarted.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“I got vodka on your jacket.”
“It’l clean.”
I stared at him.
“It won’t clean, it’s suede. Dammit, it’s soaking through.
I’l buy you a new one.”
“You aren’t buyin’ me a new jacket.”
“I am, this’l be ruined,” I told him. “We have to get a towel.”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“You’re avoiding the vodka stain!”
I was avoiding his question. I was avoiding it with everything I had.
He drew me closer to him.
“Let’s get back to dinner. Tomorrow night. I’l pick you up at six thirty. Where are you staying?”
I shook my head, “Uncle Tex and I’l be playing with the cats.”
It wasn’t good but it was the best I had.
He drew me closer.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to have dinner with me?” he asked.
Yes, there was a reason; there were mil ions of them.
None of which I was going to share, the biggest of which was Bil y.
“No,” I lied.
“Where are you staying?” Hank, obviously, could be stubborn too.
“Listen, Whisky, I’m here to see my uncle, then, I’m gone.”
He drew me even closer, pul ing me in front of him so that my breasts nearly brushed his chest. He looked down at me and smiled.
My mind went blank and I stared.
It might sound stupid, but his smile was breathtaking. He had great teeth.
“Sweetheart,” he said in a low voice, “You were here to see your uncle until you stepped into Fortnum’s and saw me and I saw you. You know it and I know it. You want me to convince you. I’m prepared to do that.”