“Wanting to be in control and making sure you get what you need are not mutually exclusive. I promise I can do both.”
She could barely concentrate. His fingers moved back and forth over that scruff around his chin. The same scruff that rubbed over her bare thighs. She jerked and knocked into her cup. He caught it right before it fell. Drops streaked across the table. She stared at them while she tried to clear her head. “Well, now that we’re on the same page on that point . . .”
“I’m willing to continue the conversation.”
She rummaged through her bag until she found a tissue and used it to clean up the coffee around her. “I bet.”
“Maybe over dinner?”
Forget cleaning. Her head shot up and she looked at him. A promise lingered right there in those eyes. Then she remembered the text she read first thing this morning. “Damn.”
He reached over and finished cleaning up the last of the coffee. “I do eat meals, you know. I thought we’d established that.”
“I have to meet my father.”
Wren stilled. “Is that a real thing or an excuse not to see me?”
“Very real, I’m afraid.” She didn’t love spending hours of unstructured time with her dad even on the best days. Now she’d be sitting there, thinking about where else she’d rather be sitting. Great.
“You sound thrilled about the visit.” He leaned back and threw the wet ball of tissue in the garbage can behind him. Made it in one shot, of course.
“He’s . . . difficult.” She had no real way of summing up her father in one quick sentence, but that came close.
“Interesting.” Wren nodded to the woman who knocked into his chair as she passed by and mumbled an apology. He shifted the chair away from the open aisle. “I’m pretty sure you’ve said that about me.”
“Wow, I really don’t want to draw parallels between you and my father.” She’d spent enough years in therapy in college, working out her family issues and survivor guilt. She didn’t want to return. “Let’s just say he hates what I do, who I am and how I spend my time.”
Wren whistled. “That covers a lot of territory.”
“I mentioned Tiffany during our weekly dinner the other night and he didn’t take it well.” Emery stopped when she heard a noise. She realized it was her foot banging against the table leg. With that, she stopped moving around. “I ended up leaving early.”
“He didn’t like Tiffany? But I thought she was his niece, or did I get that wrong?”
“No, you’re right. But the issue is more about what he believes to be my obsession with her being missing.”
“She is missing.”
“Right? You know that and I do, but he wrote her off long ago.”
“Despite his view, you’re going to see him.”
She didn’t notice she’d been holding her breath until right then. Instead of lecture, Wren sided with her. The relief nearly knocked her over. “He’s my dad.”
“Ah, well. I’m not sure what that means, but it matters to you, so I’ll pretend to get it.” Wren made a face. It looked like he wanted to say something then stopped. Then he started again. “Did you need me to come with you?”
And there he just got even sexier. Who knew that was possible? He tended to overdo, but on this point she appreciated the gesture. “You don’t like people or being in public.”
“Yet, here I sit.”
“You’ve come a long way in a few days.” She didn’t want that to mean anything . . . but then she did . . . or not. He had her mind spinning until her common sense all but scrambled.
“My personal rules have taken a beating since I met you, yes.” He slipped his fingers around his coffee cup then let go again. “Still, if you need backup, I would assist.”
She watched his hands and the uncharacteristic shifting of his weight. From the minute she met him he’d been solid and in control. Talking about her dad seemed to make Levi squirm. She couldn’t help but find that adorable. “Are you good with dads?”
“I have no idea.” He snorted. “Probably not.”
“The offer is sweet.” Sweet, sexy, charming. The whole conversation, the fact he was here and not hiding or pissed off because he’d shared so much about himself yesterday, had her aching to be alone with him again.
“Sweet is not the word people usually use to describe me.”
“It fits now, and I appreciate the offer, but I should probably handle this one myself.” Wren might take on countries and fix corruption, or whatever it was he did. That didn’t mean he deserved to have her father inflicted on him. “Dad can be intense.”
“I could see where intensity might be a problem.”
Something in that tone had her thinking they’d changed topics again. “Are we still talking about messed-up families?”
“No.”
“Now you’re just toying with me.”
“I’d like to, but apparently you have plans this evening.”
She laughed. “Drink your coffee like a good boy.”
“And I’ll get a reward?”
“Maybe.” Most definitely.