Chapter Eleven
ELEVEN
MAVEN
I raise up the menu to block the view of Ronan’s handsome, hellish face. “Go away.”
“I was here first.”
“I won’t sit here and stare at the back of your head while I eat my food.”
“You’d rather stare at my face instead? All you had to do was ask.”
He drops into the seat on the other side of my booth. When I lower the menu, I’m nearly blinded by his smile. It’s so huge, it can probably be seen from Jupiter.
“What is it with you and all the toothy grins? You look like a crocodile.”
“Thank you.”
“Again, not a compliment.”
“Sure it is. Crocodiles are smart, strong, and intimidating.”
“They’re also ugly and can’t chew their food.”
I can tell he’s trying hard not to laugh out loud, which aggravates me even more.
He muses, “Do you think it’s fate that we keep meeting this way?”
“No, I think I did something terrible in a past life, and you’re the punishment. Please go back to your own table.”
Ignoring that, he says, “I’ve been thinking about your grandmother.”
“If you say something disgusting, I’ll stuff this menu down your throat.”
He dismisses that threat with a regal wave of his hand. “Did she have any enemies that you know of?”
“You mean besides everyone in town?”
“The townspeople didn’t hate your grandmother. They were terrified of her.” His gaze turns thoughtful. “Like they are of you.”
My smile is lethal. “If only some of that good sense wore off on a certain crocodile.”
“Do you know that when Edward told me you were back, his voice shook? And we’re talking about a man who survived a bear mauling.”
“That creepy old man still works for your family?”
“You say that as if you don’t have a creepy old man working for yours.”
“Yeah, but at least ours has a soul. Yours doesn’t, which is why he fits in so well with the Crofts.”
We gaze at each other across the table, an electrical crackle of sexual tension vibrating the air, until the hostess returns. She sets a margarita in front of me and one in front of Ronan, then leaves without a word.
He picks his up and sips from it, licking his lips after he swallows. “I love a good salted rim, don’t you?”
Of course he managed to make that sound erotic. Of-fucking-course he did.
“You drink Cadillacs, too?”
“They’re my favorite.”
“I introduced you to them.”
“As if I could ever forget. You poured one over my head.”
“You deserved it.”
He considers me in a burning silence that throbs with a million unspoken words.
“Yes. That and much worse.”
Avoiding the heat in his stare, I look away, out through the windows into the gray, rainy day. “If this is a ploy to get an introduction to the daughter you didn’t sire, it won’t work.”
“Sire? That’s awfully archaic.”
“Some of us know big words. Why are you bothering me, Ronan?” I turn my eyes back to him. “And don’t give me any bullshit about lawsuits or helping find Granny. What do you want?”
Our gazes linger for a long, hot moment, until he says, “I want to be friends.”
“Aiming high. Good for you. No.”
“Why not?”
“Give me one good reason why I’d want to be your friend.”
“My dazzling good looks and charming personality.”
We stare at each other. Neither of us smiles. A pulse of heat throbs between my legs. My clitoris aches for his tongue, the little traitor.
“Do you remember how many times you told me I was weird?”
He replies without hesitation. “You are weird. You’re the weirdest and most fascinating woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve spent every day since you left searching for anyone or anything that comes close to making me feel the way you did.”
No one on Earth can lie as well as this man can. It’s pure sorcery.
“I’m sure you can find some other hopeless case to feel contempt for.”
His tone hardens. “I never felt contempt for you. You know that’s not what I’m saying.”
“You made fun of me relentlessly.”
“You played with bugs relentlessly.”
“I didn’t play with them. I studied them. I was fascinated by them. Not that it matters, but I made it my career. It wasn’t just a hobby.”
He thinks about that for a beat. “You made insects your career?”
“Yes. I’m the lepidoptera curator in a museum. I graduated with a doctorate in entomology, specializing in butterflies. Because I always wanted to be a creature that could transform from the ugly little thing it used to be. I’m sure you can imagine why.”
I meet his eyes again and try to keep the emotion constricting my throat off my face. Because although I can be distant with any other man, Ronan Croft is the exception.
He has always been and will always be my kryptonite.
“Are you ready to order?”
The hostess stands at our table side, pencil and pad in hand. Startled, I rip my gaze from Ronan’s and sit back against the booth. “I think I lost my appetite.”
“Just bring us whatever are your two most popular items. Oh, and a side of bacon.”
He hands her my menu, and she retreats. When he finds me looking at him askance, he says, “What?”
I can’t tell him I was going to order the same thing or he’ll make a big deal out of it, so I act condescending instead. “You’re ordering bacon at a Mexican restaurant?”
“I didn’t realize that wasn’t allowed.”
When I only stare at him, he sighs. “I had a craving for it. Sue me.”
“I’d rather run you over with my car.”
He gazes at me for a moment, then starts to laugh. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”
My cheeks flame with heat. It could be humiliation or anger, I can’t tell, but I’m not sticking around to find out. “You know what? This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”
I start to scoot out of the booth, but Ronan reaches across and grabs my wrist.
“Stay.”
Something in his tone makes me stop and look at him. He’s looking back at me with urgency, his eyes shining with a plea. I’m so taken aback by this uncharacteristic vulnerability, I’m momentarily stunned.
He releases my wrist and sits back. “Sorry. Reflex. Please stay.”
Breathless and disoriented, I perch on the edge of the booth, unsure if I’m staying or leaving and disappointed in myself that I can’t decide.
Ronan watches me, his eyes wary but hopeful. This is so strange, I have no idea what to do.
Finally, I relent. “You said please.”
He frowns. “And?”
“I didn’t think you knew that word.”
“Ah.” He thinks for a moment. “Will you please stay and eat with me? Please? I’d really like that … if you please.”
I close my eyes and mutter, “Where’s a good exorcist when you need one?”
“Look, I promise I won’t say it again until you tell me to.”
I open my eyes and glare at him. “How are you this annoying?”
“Years of practice. Come on, Bugs. Sheath the claws and have a meal with me. I’m harmless.”
“You’re as harmless as a rattlesnake.”
He gazes at me, waiting, allowing me space to decide. It’s surprisingly considerate, and unfortunately sways me toward the dark side.
“But you ordered bacon, so I’ll stay until I’ve had at least one piece and you say something annoying again.”
His lips curve upward. Amusement glints in his icy eyes, making them twinkle like Christmas lights.
He’s so handsome, it’s evil. The devil himself doesn’t have half this man’s charm.
I settle back into the booth and look at my hands, the ceiling, everything but him. That hot little pulse between my legs still hasn’t abated. If anything, it’s growing hotter.
“So how do you like L.A.? It’s not a place I can imagine you living, what with all the sunshine.”
“I’ll take a cloudy day over a sunny one anytime.”
“I know. Answer the question.”
“I forgot how obstinate you are.”
“No, you didn’t. Answer the question.”
I sigh and run a hand over my hair. “I don’t live in Los Angeles.”
“But you said Bea’s father lives there.”
“I never said we lived together, did I?”
“So you’re not married.”
“None of your business. And you can go ahead and blink now. That demonic stare of yours is unnerving.”
“So you are married?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re pretty evasive for someone insisting her child is another man’s.”
“If I don’t commit homicide by the time this meal is over, I should win an award.”
“Just drink your margarita. Let the tequila take the edge off that samurai sword of a tongue of yours.”
I pick up the margarita and smile at him. “At least it’s not a bloodsucking parasitic isopod.”
He lifts his glass in a toast. “Cheers to that.”
I clink glasses with him, sip my drink, and marvel at how he manages to be both massively irritating and charming as hell.
Maybe the contrast of disgust and fascination is the same thing that drew him to me. Contradictions are always compelling.
He chuckles. “You should see what your face is doing. What are you thinking right now?”
“How you’d look with no teeth, no hair, and a red clown’s nose. It would be a vast improvement.”
He throws his head back and laughs. I look away so I don’t have to witness how attractive it is.
Still chuckling, he says, “You know, I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who isn’t intimidated by me.”
“Oh, so that’s the appeal. Must be tiresome, having all those minions kissing your ass all day long.”
He goes from amused to serious in the blink of an eye. “Yes,” he says solemnly. “You can’t imagine.”
“If you want me to feel sorry for you, poor little rich boy, you’ll be waiting a very long time.”
His voice turns throaty, and his eyes start to burn. “It’s not pity I want from you. It’s something a little more intimate.”
That crackle of electricity is back, zinging between our held gazes and lifting the hair on the back of my neck. Though my nipples are tightening, I keep my face impassive and my tone nonchalant.
“We already did intimate when we were teenagers. I’ve got the emotional scars to prove it. And you’re very close to dangerous territory, so watch what you say next.”
He considers me for a long moment, eyes half-lidded, head tilted to one side.
“You’re thinking too much, Ronan. Don’t break that tiny brain of yours.”
“I was just wondering how much trouble I’d be in if I asked if you’d be up for a hate fuck. You know, for old time’s sake.”