Part 5 (1/2)
I press my fingertips to my temple. His s.h.i.+fts from cold to hot to cold again are dizzying. ”Am I on some sort of game show? Have you and your millions invested in a new version of Candid Camera? A spin-off of Punk'd?”
”What are you talking about?”
”You're nice, then you're ice.”
”Am I?”
”Don't even pretend not to know what I'm talking about. One minute you're so rude I want to slap your face-”
”And yet you don't.”
I scowl, but otherwise ignore the interruption. ”And then you turn on a dime and you're all warm and fuzzy.”
His brow lifts. ”Fuzzy?”
”Point taken. Fuzzy is not a word anyone should use to describe you. Forget warm and fuzzy. We'll go with hot and intense.”
”Intense.” He murmurs the word, making it sound much more sensual than I had intended. ”I like the sound of that.”
At the moment, so do I.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. ”The point is, you're dizzying.”
He looks at me with unabashed amus.e.m.e.nt. ”I like the sound of that, too.”
”Dizzying and exasperating. And impertinent.”
”Impertinent?” he repeats. He doesn't smile, but I swear I hear laughter in his voice.
”You ask questions you have no right to ask.”
”And you've steered this conversation in a very elegant circle. But you still haven't answered my impertinent question.”
”I would have thought that a man as intelligent as you are would realize that I was avoiding it.”
”A man doesn't get where I've gotten by allowing details to remain ignored. I'm both diligent and persistent, Ms. Fairchild.” He has me trapped, locked tight in his sights. ”When I seek to acquire something, I learn everything I can about it, and then I pursue it wholeheartedly.”
I have to pause a bit to remember how to form words. ”Do you?”
”I believe there's an interview with me in last month's Forbes. I'm certain the reporter outlined my tenacity.”
”I'll be sure to pick up a copy.”
”I'll have my office send you one. Perhaps then you'll understand just how persistent I can be.”
”I already understand it. What I don't get is why you're so fascinated with who I'm sleeping with. Why exactly does that interest you?” I'm treading on dangerous territory, and I suddenly understand that old adage about flirting with danger.
He climbs a step, putting his body in much closer proximity to mine. ”There are a number of things about you that fascinate me.”
Oh my. I move carefully up to the next level. ”I'm an open book, Mr. Stark.” I ascend one more step.
”You and I both know that's not true, Ms. Fairchild. But someday ...”
He trails off, and though I know better, I have to ask. ”Someday, what?”
”Someday you will be open for me, Ms. Fairchild. In so very many ways.”
I want to respond, but I've lost the power of speech. Damien Stark wants me. More than that, he wants to peel back the layers and learn my secrets.
The idea is terrifying, and yet also strangely appealing.
Discomfited, I take another backward step up toward the balcony, then wince. Immediately, Stark is at my side. ”What's wrong?”
”Nothing. Something sharp on the step.”
He looks down at my still-bare feet.
Sheepishly, I hold out the strappy sandals with the three-inch heels.
”Very nice,” he says. ”Perhaps you should put them on.”
”Nice?” I repeat. ”They aren't nice. They're astounding. They cup my foot, show off my pedicure, slim my leg, and lift my a.s.s just enough to make it look d.a.m.n hot in this dress.”
The corner of his mouth twitches with amus.e.m.e.nt. ”I recall. Truly, they are amazing shoes.”
”They also happen to be my first and only purchase from my frivolous Los Angeles shopping splurge.”
”Well worth the damage to your checking account, I'm sure.”
”Totally. But they are an absolute b.i.t.c.h to walk in. And now that I've taken them off I really don't know if I can get them back on again. No, correction. I don't know if I can get them on again and actually walk.”
”I see your dilemma. Fortunately, I've made a career out of coming up with solutions to such knotty problems.”
”Is that so? Well, please. Enlighten me.”
”You can stay here on the steps. You can go inside barefoot. You can put the shoes back on and suffer.”
”Somehow I expected something better from the great Damien Stark. If that's all the brainpower it takes to become the head of a corporate empire, I should have jumped all over that a long time ago.”
”Sorry to disappoint.”
”Staying here won't work,” I say. ”For one thing, it's cold. For another, I want to say goodbye to Evelyn.”
”Mmm.” He nods and frowns. ”You're so right. Clearly I didn't fully examine the conundrum.”
”That's what makes it a conundrum,” I say. ”As for going barefoot, Elizabeth Fairchild's daughter does not go barefoot at social events, no matter how much she might want to. I'm pretty sure it's a genetic trait.”
”Then your choice is clear. You're going to have to wear the shoes.”
”And suffer? No thank you. I don't do pain.”