I choked on my food. I banged my fist against my chest for a moment until it dislodged and went down. “That’s extreme.”
“Is it? Because that’s a perfect summary of everything I’ve been told about you.”
“Not everything you hear is true.”
“Is it untrue?”
I grabbed my water glass and sipped. Untrue might have been a stretch, but then again, so was it being true. “Not everything you hear is true,” I repeated, dragging each word out.
“So, it’s true.” Her eyes never left mine. “You’re a heartless asshole with a severe lack of respect for women outside your family.”
“Isn’t your job to make me look good, not insist how terrible I am?”
“Ah.” She smiled, finally reaching for her wine glass. Her hot pink nail polish stood out against the champagne-colored liquid as she lifted it. “That’s the thing, Brett. You’re expecting me to provide one extreme without knowing the other.”
“I think my sister has helped out with that.”
“Not really.” She rolled the rim of her glass over her bottom lip, tilting her head to the side as she narrowed her eyes at me. “Think of it like this. If someone you trusted walked up to you and asked you to forgive them but wouldn’t tell you why, would you do it?”
“No. I’d want to know why they wanted—ah. I see.” Sneaky. I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth and said, “Just like I wouldn’t forgive you for leaving if you didn’t tell me the reason why.”
Her lips parted just wide enough to draw in a big enough breath to make her chest and shoulders rise. The light flush that rose in her cheeks escaped down to her neck, and my eyes hovered there briefly before I forced myself to look back up and meet her gaze.
“Exactly.” My wine glass clinked loudly against the table as I put it down.
Lani blew out a long breath. “We’re not here to talk about me.” She set her glass down too.
“That’s what you think.”
“What’s that mean?” The words shot out from between her lips. “Actually, no, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”
I shoved my plate to the side and leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table. She glanced down at my biceps for a moment before she snapped her gaze back up.
My lips twitched.
So. She isn’t blind.
“It means that before you leave Whiskey Key again, if you do, that I’ll know why you disappeared without telling anyone anything,” I said slowly and clearly. “And, Lani? You will tell me why you left. I don’t care if I have you pin your hands beneath mine and fuck it out of you.”
Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me? I think you’re mixing me up with someone you plan to pick up as soon as we’re done here.”
“I doubt it. Do you think I’ll be able to go to bed and not think about you?”
“You know what? You don’t even have a lack of respect for women, Brett Walker. To have a lack of something implies you have to have possessed it at some point in the past, and I don’t think you ever did.” She slammed her hand on top of the non-disclosure, her brown eyes on fire with her annoyance. “But let’s get something straight right now. You can hate me for leaving. I don’t want or expect your forgiveness for doing what I thought was right. But you’ll respect the fact it was my choice to make, and goddamn you to hell, you will respect me as a woman and a human being.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Tell me how you really feel, Lani.”
She shoved her chair back and stood. My eyes were immediately drawn to her fuck-me boots as she stalked around the table. She perched right on the edge of it, right in front of me, and smacked her fingers beneath my chin. The action made my head jerk up and our gazes collided.
Her dark eyes held my attention the same way an incoming storm would.
Somehow, I knew the impact would be the same when it hit.
“Listen to me right now,” she said in a low voice that was way sexier than it should have been. “If you want to know what I’m capable of, go and Google me. I have as many gossip articles as I do genuine news stories, because that’s how I make my money. If you want to push me and force my hand, don’t think for a second I won’t let the entire damn country know what a self-absorbed little prick you are.”
Well, shit.
“So, you’re going to keep your mind out of the gutter, your hands and mouth to yourself, and you’re most certainly going to keep your dick where it belongs—preferably at the doctor getting tested for something, okay?”
“Ouch.” I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away from my chin. “I’m not agreeing to anything, kitten.”
“Did you seriously just call me fucking kitten?” The pitch of her voice heightened a tiny bit and she yanked her hand out from my grip. “Jesus Christ!”
“What did I do?” I smirked.
She stood, ran her hand through her hair, then turned back to me. “You have got to be kidding me.”
I stood too and put my hands out to the sides, shrugging.
“Let me spell it out for you, Casanova.” She snatched up the non-disclosure before closing the distance between us and slapping it against my chest. “Until you open your little bag of tricks and find the flash card with the word ‘respect’ written on it, your extra-curricular activities are fair game for me. And my articles.”
“Fair game.” My smirk widened. I couldn’t help it. Fuck, at least fifty percent of the blood in my body had to be traveling down to my cock right now.
She released the papers. They scattered across the floor between us as she stepped back. Then she bent over and grabbed her purse, sticking her full, round ass into the air.
Motherfucker...
Lani straightened and took one step forward, her heel spearing into one of the sheets of paper. “Start looking for that respect, Mr. Walker. Because if you don’t, I’m going to track down every woman you never called back and get enough material for international gossip columns. Are we clear?”
I reached out and flicked a lock of her hair away from where it was caught on her eyelashes. “Crystal clear, kitten.”
She grasped the doorknob and looked over her shoulder. “Seven a.m. tomorrow. We’re running, and you’re going to tell me everything I need to not print.”
“Without you signing the agreement?”
“ I guess you’d better Google ‘how to respect a woman,’ don’t you think?” She yanked the door open before pausing once more. “Oh, and, Brett? Leave that fucking nickname where it belongs. In the trash.”
The door slammed closed behind her.
I dropped back onto my chair. My elbow hit the table and I left it there, leaning and pressing the side of my face into my hand. Jesus Christ—who was that and what did they do with Lani Montana? There was no fucking way that...sassy vixen...was my sweet girl. No way in hell. It wasn’t possible. Eight years wasn’t that long. How could she have changed so much in so little time?
Then again, I wasn’t the person I was back then either. But at least back then, I was some semblance of the asshole I was today.
She couldn’t be more different if she’d had a personality transplant.
So why the fuck did I like it?