not rusty, it's deplorable.”
Ignoring his comment, Corinthians continued. “Please tell her I truly apologize for what I said and that I didn't mean it. I was trying to tell her I enjoyed my food.”
In a soft, calming voice, Trevor began speaking in Portuguese. Corinthians noted the softening of the woman's features and the smile that stole onto her face. Whatever Trevor was saying was helping to smooth things over. When the woman looked at her and laughed before turning to leave, Corinthians raised a brow.
“What did you say to her?”
Trevor shrugged. “I told her everything you asked me to. I also shared with her a few thoughts of my own.”
“A few thoughts of your own like what?”
He leaned back in his seat and looked at her. “I told her that unfortunately you had a habit of placing yourself in embarrassing situations. Today wasn't the first time I've been a witness to such an event, and I doubt it would be the last.”
Corinthians's mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe he had said such a thing about her; and to a stranger at that. But the look he gave her said that he had. Totally peeved, she stood. “This was the last time you'll ever be a witness to any embarrassing situation I might endure.”
“I doubt it.”
Trevor couldn't help but grin when a very angry Corinthians Avery turned and walked off. He shrugged and resumed eating his food. So much for round one.
Chapter 3
Corinthians quickly left the restaurant and walked across the hotel's lobby, fuming. Her face was still stinging from the heat of embarrassment. Added to that was the humiliation of Trevor's words. She was so mad, her hands were shaking. As far as she was concerned, Trevor Grant was an arrogant and inconsiderate man. There was not a shred of decency in him. No respectable person would take joy in pointing out another person's misfortune.
Slowing her pace, Corinthians forced herself to slow her breathing and put a cap on her anger. He wasn't worth it. Exhausted and frustrated, she stopped in front of the elevator doors, then remembered she hadn't picked up her messages that day. Turning, she walked over to the hotel's front desk.
A few minutes later she was flipping through the numerous slips of paper that had been given to her. Trevor Grant and her brother, Joshua, were running neck and neck in the number of messages they had left. She crushed all the ones from Trevor, feeling a sense of satisfaction in doing so. She then turned her attention to those from Senator Joshua Avery. She wondered which was worse, dealing with Trevor or coming to blows with Josh. Although she loved her brother dearly, he could be a monumental pain at times. He thought since he was five years older, he had every right to boss her around.
She sighed. He also thought he could manipulate her into doing anything he wanted. As far as she was concerned, becoming senator had gone to his head. Although some people easily fell victim to his charm, she wasn't one of them. She had to constantly remind him that at the age of thirty, she was a grown woman who didn't need a big brother to boss her around.
Deciding not to wait until she returned to her room to make the call, she picked up a courtesy phone off a nearby desk and dialed the number Joshua had left on the messages. It was to his office in Washington.
A few minutes later, his loud, authoritative voice came on the line. “Senator Joshua Avery.”
“Hi, Josh. I got your messages. What's up?”
“Your timing is perfect, Corinthians. Rasheed is here. Why did you leave the country without letting him know when you'd be returning? He thought you would be available to accompany him to the presidential dinner this weekend.”
Corinthians raised her eyes to the ceiling. Joshua was forever the politician looking for ways to make connections. He had talked her into attending a dinner party given in Senator Nedwyn Lansing's honor a couple of weeks ago with Rasheed Valdemon, the thirty-three-year-old son of a sheikh from the Middle East. Rasheed's striking good looks, a result of his Arab father and Egyptian mother, were enough to make most women swoon. But not her. It had only taken one evening spent in his company for her to realize the two of them did not see eye-to-eye on a number of things. She would never be able to tolerate his beliefs on certain subjects, especially the rights of women. He was very proud of the fact that in his country, women were seen and not heard. And according to him, there was nothing wrong with a man having more than one wife if that's what he desired. He had phoned her a few times since then and had even flown from Washington, D.C., to Texas to see her, surprising the heck out of her when he'd appeared on her doorstep last weekend.
“I don't know how he could have thought that. I remember telling him I would not be going to that dinner with him.”
“I guess he's not used to being turned down.”
Corinthians frowned. She was getting fed up with arrogant men. “Then he needs to understand he's in America. In this country women have rights. I exercised mine when I turned him down. Now, if you'll excuse me, Josh, I need to go. Bye.” She hung up the phone before her brother could say anything else. No doubt he would suggest that she talk to Rasheed, and she wasn't in the mood.
After hanging up the phone, Corinthians turned to find Trevor Grant standing across the lobby, leaning against the wall looking at her. He just stood there staring at her with an odd expression on his face. Even from the distance separating them, she could see something flicker deep in the depths of his eyes. It was something dark, compelling and seductive. He was looking at her as if he could see straight through the material of her gauzy white sundress; every revealing detail.
Angry at the way her thoughts were going, she gave him a cutting look before turning and walking over to the elevators. When the doors opened, she quickly stepped inside. When she turned back around, she saw his eyes were still on her. She met his stare with her glare. She was glad when the doors closed, shutting him off from her line of vision.
Trevor straightened his stance. He wondered whom Corinthians had been talking to on the telephone. Whoever it was had certainly teed her off. He had picked up on it even from across the room simply by reading her body language and facial expressions. A deep scowl covered his face. Him trying to get a rise out of her was one thing, someone else setting her off was another. He couldn't help wondering if the person she'd been on the phone with was a man. He suddenly loathed himself for even caring. The woman had already proven to him that she had no scruples. She'd all but hinted at dinner that she had not gotten over Dex. He wondered if she was an obsessive type of woman. He knew firsthand the destruction an obsessive woman could do. Hadn't Paris Sanders been the epitome of an obsessive woman when she had been responsible for his parents' breakup?
At the age of sixteen, he had taken his parents' separation hard, not understanding the reason for it. At home, his mother was always despondent, and whenever he and his sister, Regina, went to visit their father, his mood was just as down-hearted. However, neither of his parents would reveal to their son and daughter the reason they had decided to live apart. And since neither of his parents had filed for a divorce, that had made the situation even more confusing to him. It was only years later, after he had finished school and joined the Marines, that he had found out the truth. Another woman had been involved.
At least that was what his mother had believed, although his father had staunchly denied having an affair with Paris Sanders. But the photo that had been delivered to his mother from Paris Sanders, a shot taken of his father holding a half-naked Ms. Sanders in his arms during a business trip, had sealed Maurice Grant's fate. Stella Grant had believed the worst.
Trevor placed his hands in the pockets of his pants as he continued to stare at the closed elevator doors. If Corinthians Avery thought she was going to make her move on a married man like Paris Sanders had done, she had another thought coming.
Washington, D.C.
“You Americans give your women too much freedom.”
Joshua Avery leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples upon hearing the statement from the man sitting across from his desk.