He offered her a warm smile. “Mahalo.” Perfect. He’d made sure he was plenty early to prove to her he wasn’t a total slacker. He could be on time to something if he had to be. Hell, he was never late for training.
Leaning back against the wall, he put his hands in his pockets and thought about his afternoon with her. She’d accepted his deal, as he’d known she would, even though she claimed it was only because she wanted to and had nothing to do with his proposition. There was still a lot he didn’t know about Vanessa MacGregor, but one thing he knew for sure was that she hated losing control. She needed things to be on her terms at all times.
Unfortunately for her, even though he’d adapted to a much more laidback way of life, he was still very used to being in control. However, when he consciously thought about it, control wasn’t something he needed. Outside of the cage and the bedroom, anyway. But old habits die hard, and raising a younger sister for five years made him accustomed to playing leader to Lucie’s follower.
Beyond that, he was used to women playing coy with him. They liked to think of themselves as hard to get, pulling all the strings and leading the guy along by the short-hairs. And he happily played along. To an extent. Then he flipped the switch and took hold of the reins. Especially during sex. He preferred to have the control. Well, perhaps “preferred” wasn’t the right word. It was more how he was hardwired.
But the women he’d been with hadn’t posed any sort of challenge. They were like sheep in wolves’ clothing. They liked to think they were tough, but when he crooked his finger, the ruse dropped and they followed his lead.
Vanessa was different. She didn’t merely pretend; she was a wolf. When he pushed, she pushed back. He never would’ve thought he’d be attracted to someone so strong-minded, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. She was like a ball of fire, ready to explode, and he was a pyromaniac who couldn’t bring himself to keep his distance. Time would tell what sort of havoc she would wreak. Until then, he had every intention of enjoying the fireworks.
A wry smile spread over his face as he remembered the way she threw her skirt on him and walked toward the water like she owned the very sand under her feet.
“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”
He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts about her that he hadn’t even seen her approach. She looked beautiful in a sundress with large red hibiscus flowers splashed across a white background. Casual and graceful. “You mean you were hoping I’d changed my mind.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You didn’t have to,” he said, offering an understanding smile. “That’s okay, I don’t blame you. I didn’t make things easy on you today. But I promise to be on my best behavior from now on.”
Her eyelashes nearly twined as she scrutinized him. “Why the change of heart?”
“Aren’t you going to comment on my punctuality?”
To his surprise she did that thing where she tried to stop herself from smiling by biting on her own cheek. It was quite possibly the most adorable thing he’d ever seen a woman do. At last she huffed a sigh and said, “All right, let’s go in. But don’t say anything. Just let me handle this, okay?”
He winked at her. “Whatever you say, darling.” Fat chance, honey.
Jackson held the door for her and followed her into the air-conditioned restaurant. It was one of the more casual eateries the resort offered, if you considered mahogany tables with fine china and centerpieces made of orchids in crystal vases casual.
“Aloha!” A cute girl at the hostess counter smiled like she’d never been so happy to see two people. “Table for two?”
Vanessa jumped in. “Actually, we’re here to meet with the wedding coordinator. Can you point us in the right direction?”
“Ah, yes! He told me you’d be arriving and to seat you right away. He should be here shortly.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
They followed her to a small table in the back with a Reserved sign in the center. Taking the sign, the girl handed them menus, but Vanessa politely refused. “We won’t be eating now, but I’d love an iced tea, please.”
Their hostess eagerly nodded and looked to him. “Heineken, thanks.” Another nod and she was off.
“I like your sandals,” he said.
“My sandals?”
She turned her head and stuck a foot out to the side to examine them as though she’d forgotten what she wore.
Raising an eyebrow in his direction she asked, “Are you a women’s shoe expert in your off hours or something?”
“Hell no. I don’t have the first clue about fashion.”
Her brows drew together, causing her skin to squinch between them. It must be something she did often, probably while hard at work on cases. “Then what exactly is it you like about my current footwear?”
He paused as the waitress set their drinks in front of them, then said, “I appreciate how the heels accentuate your calves.”