‘Perfect,’ Zoe replied breezily. ‘We can order in.’
He still looked nonplussed, frankly incredulous. ‘What do you want to order?’
‘A California roll.’
‘Sushi?’
‘If by sushi you mean the non-raw fish kind, then yes.’ She was inexplicably gratified to see his mouth curve in the tiniest of smiles.
‘If we’re going to order sushi, we’ll do it properly,’ he said and slid his phone out of his pocket.
Zoe smiled. ‘At last you’re putting your phone to good use.’
This woman drove him crazy. In far too many ways. His palms itched to touch her, yet here she was insisting they order sushi, as if they were some couple about to have a quiet night in. He’d almost asked her if she wanted to rent a DVD while they were at it, but then he decided not to risk it. She might take him seriously.
The women he knew—and, more importantly, the women he went to bed with—didn’t behave the way Zoe Parker did, which begged the question why he’d brought her back here in the first place.
He was used to women going along exactly with what he wanted. What he commanded. Hell, everyone did. He didn’t allow for anything else.
And yet here he was, ordering her damn food. Still, he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten much at the reception either, and he was willing to go along with Zoe’s crazy ideas—to a point. Eventually and inevitably she would have to understand and accept who was calling the shots.
He slid his phone back into his pocket. ‘The food should be here in about fifteen minutes.’
A flirty, cat-like smile played around her mouth. ‘So what should we talk about for fifteen minutes?’ she asked, and he could tell from her tone that she was laughing at him, that she knew the thought of making conversation for that long exasperated and annoyed him.
He didn’t want to talk.
‘I have no idea,’ he said shortly, and her smile widened.
‘Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas, don’t worry.’ She walked over to the sofa and stretched out, her legs long and slim in front of her, her arms along the back. ‘Let’s see…We could talk about why you live in such an awful apartment.’
‘Awful apartment?’ he repeated in disbelief and she smiled breezily.
‘I’ve been in morgues with more warmth. Or we could talk about how you don’t get along with anyone in your family, or why you’re so obsessive about work.’ She batted her eyelashes. ‘Are you compensating for something else, do you think?’
‘Or,’ he growled, ‘we could both shut up and get on with what we came here for.’
‘Now, that’s a come-on I haven’t heard before. Really charming. Makes me want to strip naked right now.’
Fury pulsed through him. He’d never met a woman who dished it out so much before. Most women wanted to impress him. He took a step towards her. ‘A few hours ago you were practically melting in a puddle at my feet. I don’t think I have much to worry about there, sweetheart.’
Her eyes flashed silver. ‘Honestly, you are the most arrogant ass of a man I have ever met. I’m amazed there’s enough room in this apartment for you, me and your ego.’
He stared at her, disbelief making his mind go blank. No one talked to him like this. No one. Zoe’s mouth curled into a saccharine smile.
‘I suppose no one has dared to tell you that before?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I think Millie and Chase will be happy together, don’t you?’ Her eyes danced as she posed the question oh, so innocently and Aaron gritted his teeth. As if he wanted to talk about weddings, marriages and happy endings. He didn’t want any of it, at least not for himself.
‘I suppose so,’ he said in a bored voice. ‘I haven’t really given it much thought.’
‘What a surprise.’
‘Why do you want to talk to me, anyway?’ he asked. He hated the way she made him feel as if he’d lost control, and he was determined to get it back—however he could. ‘You obviously don’t like me, or anything about me. So what’s there to chat about, really, Zoe?’ He spread his hands wide, his eyebrows raised in challenge. For a moment she didn’t answer and he felt a surge of triumph. Gotcha.
‘Well,’ she finally said, her mouth curving upwards once more, ‘I always live in hope. No one’s irredeemable, surely? Not even you.’
‘What a compliment.’
‘It wasn’t meant to be one,’ she answered, and he knew she was intentionally parroting what he’d said to her earlier. She eyed him mischievously. ‘But take it as one, if you like.’
‘I’m not interested in anything you say,’ Aaron snapped. ‘Compliments or otherwise. I think we’ve talked enough.’
‘We’re still waiting for the sushi,’ Zoe reminded him and Aaron nearly cursed.
He shouldn’t have ordered the damn sushi. He shouldn’t have gone for any of this, he realised. The moment Zoe had slipped out of his arms and stopped playing by his rules he should have shown her the door. So why hadn’t he?
Because he wanted her too much. And because not having her felt like losing. They’d been locked in a battle from the moment she’d taken his phone, and Aaron knew only one way of assuring sweet, sweet victory.
‘I think we can make good use of the time while we wait,’ he said, his voice deepening to a purr, and with a savage satisfaction he saw awareness—and perhaps alarm—flare in her eyes.
‘I’m sure we could.’ She crossed her legs. ‘So were any of those messages on your phone actually important?’
‘Critical,’ Aaron informed her silkily. He loosened the knot of his ascot and saw how her gaze was drawn to the movement. ‘Absolutely crucial.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Oh, dear.’
‘Considering all the inconvenience you put me to, I think you owe me.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Owe you?’
‘Definitely.’ He shed his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. ‘And I can think of several ways you can pay me back.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you could.’ Her eyes narrowed as if she wanted to argue, but he saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest and knew she was affected. As affected as he was…Hell, he’d been in a painful state of arousal since she’d first slid into his limo.
The intercom buzzed, and the tension that had been coiling and tautening between them was, for the moment, broken. Aaron strode towards the door and buzzed the delivery man up, conscious of Zoe; she’d risen from the sofa and was wandering around the living room, glancing at a few of the paintings on the walls, her body like a lithe shadow as she moved through the darkened room.
She turned and joined him at the door, and he breathed in the scent of her, some soap or shampoo that smelled like vanilla. The ends of her hair brushed his shoulder. ‘So what kind of sushi did you order, anyway?’
‘The real kind.’ Not that he had any interest in eating anything. The doorbell rang and he dealt with the delivery man before turning back to her. ‘And you have to try some before I give you your California roll.’
‘Oh, do I?’ Her eyes glinted and she looked intrigued, maybe even a little confused. Hell, he was. Why was he playing this game? Why didn’t he toss her the food, tell her to eat and then take her to bed? Even if that did have a touch of the Neanderthal about it, it was still