Four Seconds to Lose

“Really? You don’t seem like the type to be in investment banking.”

Her eyes are on Cain, so she can’t see that my mouth drops open momentarily. Investment banking? Is that what she thinks he does? Apparently, I’m not the only one who leads an alternate life.

Cain is watching me like a hawk now. He must be wondering if I’ll play along. “I guess looks can be deceiving. And I assist Cain with the office work.”

“Assist?” An amused smirk touches her lips, her eyes drifting over my frame again but in a different way now. An inquisitive way.

In my peripheral vision, I see Cain’s lips curl in as he inhales sharply and I wonder what that’s about. Thankfully, the server comes with our meal, breaking up the awkwardness. “I’m here until Monday, Cain, so if you’d like to give me a call we can catch up. My assistant’s in town, as well. I’m sure she’d love to see you.” That’s an inside joke with sexual undertones if I’ve ever heard one.

Forget Cain being annoyed. I’m damn annoyed now. She’s taking up my precious time with him. Without even thinking, I reach forward to clasp Cain’s hand and lock eyes with him. To my pleasant surprise, Cain doesn’t waste a moment, rolling my hand within his to drag his thumb down my palm, sending sparks through my body. “I imagine I’ll be keeping him extremely busy until Monday and well beyond, Larissa. Now if you’ll excuse us, we need to eat so we can get home.”

There’s a long pause. I dare cast a glance up to see Larissa’s mouth twisted with displeasure. “Well, best of luck to you.” She holds her head high as she walks away at a brisk pace. When she disappears around the corner, I make a move to slide my hand out of Cain’s but he traps it within his for a moment, studying it, before finally letting go.

“Sorry if I was being presumptuous, but she got under my nerves and I could tell you were annoyed. I figured pretending we were dating was the best way to get rid of her.”

His brow spikes with curiosity. “How did you know I was annoyed?”

I hesitate for a moment, stabbing a chunk of steak from my salad. Should I tell him? Will he think I’m crazy? His expectant eyes on me make me finally cave. I gesture at his mouth with my free hand and explain, “You lick your top lip when you’re annoyed.”

“Have you been investigating me?” he asks playfully.

“Maybe,” I admit, hoping he doesn’t notice my ears reddening. “On my own, though. No hired help.” A sheepish look flashes over his features, and I have to giggle. “I have a thing for body language and facial expressions. I used to do a lot of theater, and people-watching is a good way to learn how to play different roles.”

“Drama . . . hmm.” Cutting into his steak, he casually asks, “What else do I do?”

“Not much, to be honest. You’re pretty guarded.” Stabbing the air with my fork, I gesture toward his neck. “You rub your neck over that tattoo when you’re anxious.”

Cain nods. After a moment, “What else?”

“You clear your voice when you’re uncomfortable.”

“What else?”

“You ball your fists when you’re really mad. I saw you do it that day at my old apartment.” And last night, with Bob. “Sometimes I see you do it when Ben’s around.”

That earns a loud burst of laughter. “I know I do that. It’s an old habit from my fighting days.”

A little bread crumb, a little trace of info into the history of Cain. I greedily latch on. “Fighting . . . like boxing?”

He gives an almost imperceptible shake. “Fighting like the kind that you don’t ever talk about. The kind that makes you a lot of money.”

My eyes roam his face, as perfect as it is, and settle on the small scar above his left brow. And I wonder what kind of damage has been done to that beautiful body of his. “Were you ever badly hurt?”

“A few broken ribs, bruised knuckles, some cuts. That’s all. So . . . no.”

I glance down at his hands, which iced my cheek just twenty-four hours ago. Now I wonder what kind of damage they’ve also done. “Did you ever hurt anyone badly?”

Dark eyes lock on me as he admits, “Yes, I have, Charlie. Very badly. One of them never got up.”

I’m not sure what reaction he’s expecting from me, but that won’t make me shy away. “Is that where you made this money you’re talking about?”

“Who’s being direct now?” By his tone, he doesn’t seem annoyed. “Yes. I made most of my money fighting.”

I clear my throat, deciding to steer the conversation in another direction. “How do you know Larissa?” Even her name makes my chest burn with jealousy. A startled look flashes across his face and I shrug. “You said you don’t do small talk.”

“I got to know Larissa during her last business trip to Miami and had no plans to connect with her again. Ever.” He curls his lip in that playful way as he pushes my plate slightly, a reminder that I need to keep eating. “You saved me.”

“I hardly think you were in danger with her.”

His left brows arches drastically. “No, trust me. I was. That one is . . .” He shakes his head. When he catches me watching him—all kinds of awful lewd images flying through my thoughts, trying as I can to keep a straight face—his forehead furrows deeply. I think I see a hint of blush under that stubble but I can’t be sure. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I pause and then dare add in a mock-sultry voice, “Mr. Investment Banker.”

Cain’s face brightens with a chuckle. “Women don’t typically understand my choice in profession, so I’m not open about it.”

He said women. Plural. Dammit. I was hoping she was it. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t.” I didn’t understand his choice of profession, either. I still don’t. He’s so much different from any other club owner—and anyone else I’ve ever met. He almost doesn’t seem real.

A morose look flashes across his face. “None of them know much about me at all. But that doesn’t seem to bother them.”

I feel a twinge of sadness in my heart. Plenty of women are loved and paid attention to only for their enticing exterior. But what about men like Cain? I’m no better than Larissa. I have used him in the same regard, while on the stage. That face, that body; they are distracting enough to not see the man that may lie beneath.

Ironically, I’m beginning to think that what is beneath that outer surface may be even more beautiful.

“Maybe you’re dating the wrong type of woman,” I say softly, my eyes holding his gaze.

“I don’t date, Charlie. I’ve never done this. I told you that, yesterday.”

“You also don’t watch your dancers strip, right?”

I hear the light scratching sound of his hand rubbing over that stubble as he covers his mouth, hiding a tiny smile as he watches me with eyes that are suddenly sparkling playfully. “Only one.”

Heat floods through my body. I wonder if he knows that he can do that with just a look.

By the time the waiter comes to clear the plates, my meal is only half-eaten, but I’ve polished off two-thirds of the wine and I feel it tingle through my thighs. Or maybe it’s Cain’s continued gaze causing that.

I let Cain lead me—slowly, reluctantly—to his Navigator. Opening the passenger-side door for me like a gentleman, he hesitates. His hand finds its way to the small of my back and the simple touch steals my breath away, as aware as my body is of him right now. “Do you want me to take you back to your apartment, or Penny’s, or . . .” He lets the question hang, as if giving me the chance to decide if this night is ending or not. I have no interest in saying good night—and goodbye—to Cain yet. I know exactly what I want. By the way he’s staring at my mouth, I think Cain does, too.

Swallowing against the explosion of excitement inside me, I settle a firm, unguarded gaze on him and slowly shake my head.