We stared at each other for a long time, the din of the bar fading again, but for a very different reason. The air around us crackled. Good fuckin’ God.
“I think,” Nina said as she cleared her throat, “I’m ready for that small talk now.”
I chuckled. “We are doing things backwards, aren’t we?”
“Perhaps we should have started by jumping into bed together.”
It was just a joke; she couldn’t know that she was tempting the bull with that suggestion. And she really didn’t want to know how many times I’d already imagined it.
Catching my expression, Nina sobered quickly. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so—”
“Fuckin’ adorable?”
She rolled her eyes. “Forward.”
“Ah, I like forward.” I waved my hand, as if to swat the notion away like a fly. “And for the record, if that were a proposition”—I shivered at the thought—“I wouldn’t say no. Any man who would refuse you? Out of his fuckin’ mind.”
“Oh, Matthew,” she demurred into her wineglass. “You’re making me blush.”
“Someone should. It’s a beautiful sight.”
I gazed openly. I could have watched her skin change color like that all night. Nina’s cheeks were the color of ripe peaches, and I wanted to bite one. Instead, I just cleared my throat.
“So, what does your family do?” My voice was a little too loud. “Must be something big if they have a legacy to hand over.”
Her gaze turned steely. “Ah, boats. We own a line of boats.”
“What, like fishing boats?”
She shrugged. “Yes, probably.”
I really couldn’t imagine Nina hauling nets full of fish with a bunch of dirty men. “I mean, I’m sure you could be a fine fisherwoman if you wanted, but…”
She chuckled. “What? Oh. No. We own the boats, we don’t actually run them.”
I frowned. Something about this story was familiar. “Your name isn’t de Vries, is it?”
Eric was a shipping heir too. It would be just my luck, that I’d meet the perfect woman, only for her to be tied to an investigation that made her off-limits.
Nina’s eyes widened. “What?”
“De Vries. Is that your last name?”
Was it my imagination, or did she recoil?
“No,” she said emphatically. “It is not.”
I frowned. “You sure?”
Something as sharp as a knife flashed in her eyes. They might be the color of cooing doves, but they turned hawkish in a second.
“Do you think I don’t know my own name, Mr. Zola?”
Now I was more than suspicious. “How did you know my last name?”
“Because I’ve been calling you Zola all night, you asshole!”
We both swiveled to face Jamie, who was shaking his head as he poured a couple of martinis.
“Get off your high horse, Matthew,” he said pointedly.
I gave him the finger, then turned back to Nina, who had her arms crossed. Shit. She was pissed.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I held up both hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to know because—”
There, I stopped. I certainly couldn’t tell her about the investigation. I liked Nina. I really did. But in my line of work, you never knew who was a PI for the other team. I’d been doing this for too long not to be careful.
But it wasn’t just that. Sometimes I dealt with really dark shit. I spent every day investigating the lives of some of the worst humans in New York. Men who manipulated the city’s veins of power and wealth with no fuckin’ scruples. Prostitution rings. Human trafficking. Drugs. I’d seen it all. And I didn’t want it anywhere near the angel next to me.
For several minutes, we sat, collecting ourselves. Fight together, Nonno used to say. Is this what he meant? The bottle of wine was almost empty, and I needed food, but I wasn’t going anywhere without her. And, to my satisfaction, Nina didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving either. Not without me.
Hey, a man could hope.
“I’m sorry too,” she said finally.
I arched a brow. “Yeah?”
She sighed. “I—yes. But, Matthew?”
I tipped my head. “What, doll?”
“Let’s not fight anymore tonight.”
I leaned in a few inches. Not because I was trying to kiss her, although the idea did cross my mind. I just wanted to get a better look at her. This close, I could see a sprinkle of tiny freckles along her nose. I wanted to touch them. Trace them. Learn them by heart.
“Done,” I promised.
She inhaled. Her hand fluttered out. Shyly, she touched the edge of my vest, tracing its diagonal path across my chest. I fought the urge to clasp it there. Force her to feel the way my heart was beating a little faster. Just for her.
“You’re very well dressed,” she said softly. Her hand continued to outline the vest, over the edge of my shoulder, which I did keep up at the gym, thank you very fuckin’ much.
“If you’re going to do something, I think you should do it right?” I said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
She stared at the progress of her fingers. I didn’t move a goddamn muscle.
“I suppose I do,” she said. “My family likes things done…properly, I suppose. No white after Labor Day. Skirts below the knees to church services. That sort of thing.”
I looked her over again, enjoying the excuse to ogle her as openly as she was me. “That looks like white to me. And excuse me for noticing, but it’s January. Well past Labor Day.”
“This isn’t white,” she protested. Her hand flattened on my chest. And didn’t move away. “It’s pearl.”
I raised a brow. “Looks like white to me.” I fingered a bit of her sleeve, butter-soft silk. Nice stuff. A lot better than the polyester shit I could afford if I ever bought anything new. “Very nice.”
“Yours—it’s very—” Nina cleared her throat. “I mean to say, you look very nice too.” She eyed my vest and pants with a practiced eye. “How does a prosecutor afford Armani? Did you have a private practice at one time?”
I swallowed again, thickly. It wasn’t easy having someone as gorgeous as this looking at my inseam. I cleared my throat too. “I—one of my sisters owns a vintage shop uptown. She gives me first pick of the menswear.”
Every tease and taunt my sisters had tossed at me over the years for my old-school preferences were worth it in this moment. The way Nina was looking at me, I didn’t think I’d ever wear anything less than a full three-piece suit again.
Finally, her gaze drew back up, widening when it met mine. The naked hunger I felt must have been plain—and why not, with a girl like this? Why hide it?
“It fits you,” she said as she fingered my tie. Her thumb drifted over the clip, toying with the chain. “It’s very…dignified.”
“Dignified?”
She tugged on my tie, and the pull sent a current straight down to my dick. Goddamn. The time for small talk was over. Real talk. Deep talk. Any type of talk. I needed to yank this thing off and use it to tie Nina to her bed. I needed that mouth on mine, and then I needed it a bit lower too.
Dirty. I needed Nina on her knees, begging, pleading, absolutely filthy with desire.
“This green,” she said as she stared at the stone at the center of the tie clip. “It matches your eyes.” She looked up. “But you’re Italian.”
I nodded. “I am.”
“But your eyes are so…brilliantly green. Dark, but still vibrant.”
Her tug on my tie intensified, though I wasn’t sure she even noticed. She seemed as entranced by me as I was of her.
“They change color depending on my mood. When I’m calm or bored, they’re closer to brown. But when I’m charged up. Upset. Happy. Inspired. That’s when they turn green.”
“And are you…inspired…now?”
“You could say that.”
My gaze drifted to her lips, soft pink pillows that begged to be kissed. I wondered if she was the type who liked a lot of tongue. Or if she would be too shy to do anything more than closed-mouth. Nina was buttoned up tight, but something told me she was like a caged tiger, dying to be let out.
You just had to have the right key.
“You looking for a bit of color, sweetheart?” I asked.
Immediately, she drew into herself. “Why do you ask?”
I smiled. “Well, Ms.…I’m sorry, what did you say your last name is, anyway?”
“I didn’t. Why do you need my last name?”
Her tone was sharp again. Imperious. Which only made me want to toy with her more.
“Because you look like you’re used to being addressed by it, that’s all.”
Her diamond eyes glittered with the challenge. “All right,” she said. “It’s…Astor. Nina Astor.”
“Was that so hard?” I leaned closer, enjoying the way her fair skin heated under my breath. “But fair warning, doll. If I ever call you Ms. Astor, it will be when you’re on your knees. Doing exactly as I say.”
When I backed away, she had that perfectly pink lip clenched so tightly between her teeth, I thought she might draw blood.
“You’re very…impertinent.”
I raised a brow and took a sip of wine. “Am I?”
I guessed I was. It was a little strange, actually. Normally I was the reticent one. Content to be led. I enjoyed the chase, sure, but mostly the game. The part where I let a woman’s inner desires come out and dictate the terms. See how I could twist them around. I wasn’t a rule-breaker, per se. I just let them take the first steps.
But not this one. As Nina’s ice-gray eyes traveled up and down my body with the heat of a glass forge, I was ready to toss the rulebook out the window. Maybe it was because she obviously wasn’t from around here. Maybe it was because she so clearly needed to be knocked off that prim pedestal. Something about her pristine appearance made me want to mess everything up. On my terms, not hers.
I finished my wine, set the glass on the bar with an unnecessary force, then stood up to put on my coat. “You want to get out of here, princess? Continue this conversation somewhere a little more…private?”
Nina stilled. “What did you call me?”
Okay, then. Obviously the wrong pet name. Of course, that only made me want to use it more.
“Princess,” I said with a sly grin as I leaned on the bar just a few inches from her. I was invading her space, and it made her uncomfortable. I didn’t give a shit.
I reached out and twirled a bit of her golden hair around one finger. “You’re all dainty and shit, sitting on your throne, sipping on your wine. Like a princess. It fits.”
She swallowed, looking fairly angry angry, although the way her tight nipples were pointing at me through her blouse said she felt a lot more than that. Inwardly, I shrugged. Angry sex was just fine by me.
“I don’t like being called princess,” she informed me, though she didn’t bat my hand away.
I tugged on the lock. She inhaled sharply. I dropped her hair and played with the edge of her blouse instead, slipping it over the curve of one shoulder, then back up. Good fuckin’ Christ, she was a work of art. All it took was a few inches of her bare skin, and I was about ready to embarrass myself.
“Fair enough,” I said. “Now. You coming or not?”