eyes turned to blue smoke, and he slowly took in her tight dress, stockings and high heels. “Decorators?” he drawled. “Is that what they call them nowadays?”
“Should I get out of this conversation while the getting is good?”
“Since we’ve both agreed we’re standing in a bordello. And since you’re the prettiest woman in the room. And since I’m about to make you an offer…Yeah, we should both get out of this conversation before I get my face slapped.”
“You couldn’t afford me anyway,” she boldly tossed out in a Mae West voice before stepping away from him and slipping into her chair.
He was silent for half a heartbeat as he took a seat across the table. Then his bass voice rolled. “Don’t bet on it.”
His dark eyes smoldered, and Jenna’s entire body contracted.
Wow.
Nobody had ever looked at her like that before—sliding a white-hot gaze straight past her inhibitions.
“May I offer you a cocktail, sir?” The waiter interrupted, his formal tone almost icy. He stood to one side while a busboy swiftly replaced the tablecloth then set out silverware, menus and a new candle.
“Scotch,” said Tyler, not appearing the least bit fazed by the waiter’s tone. “Glenlochlan. And another glass of wine for the lady.”
TYLER SETTLED BACK in the wide comfortable chair and watched the candlelight flicker on Jenna’s flushed cheeks. She’d surprised him. Shocked the hell out of him, actually.
He’d been expecting a cold, brittle, uptight gold digger. What he got was a warm, funny, down-to-earth woman who could give as good as she got and was obviously serious about her business. Brandon was definitely getting his money’s worth.
Her hair must have started the evening piled neatly on top of her head. But it was a little worse for wear now. Stray wisps teased her delicate ears and dangled around her square-cut emerald earrings.
The earrings matched the tight sheath of a dress she wore. It had probably started the evening a little higher and neater, too. Not that he minded. Not as long as they were hidden away in a dark corner where nobody else could get a glimpse of her cleavage.
A gentleman would tell her about her precarious hold on decency. Luckily, Tyler had never been a gentleman.
The waiter appeared and placed the scotch in front of Tyler and the wine in front of Jenna.
“Will you be placing your order now?” he asked, notepad at the ready, his dour expression aimed at Jenna.
Tyler hoped she’d hit him with a one-liner, but she bit her bottom lip guiltily and quickly reached for the menu.
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