Page 12 of Bare
“Is something wrong with my hair?” Rosemary’s question came out tight.
He turned his gaze to her face. “No. Sorry I was staring. That was rude. Your hair…it looks bright and radiant in this light. Like a halo. You look like an angel.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
Annoyance flashed through him. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Assume a compliment isn’t sincere. Are you always negative about yourself, or do you doubt me in particular?”
Rosemary’s pretty pink lips gaped open, and she blinked a few times. She looked cute when she was taken off guard.
“What I should say is, it’s completely rational for me to be cautious about trusting a random man who conveniently bumped into me on the street and charmed me into going out todinner. A smart person might say that’s suspicious behavior, so it’s wise to be wary of compliments.”
His hand froze on his water glass. Had he been that obvious? He was better than that. Or at least he was supposed to be. Had he blown it already?
Gentle fingers grazed the back of his hand. “That’s what I should say, but it isn’t true. I’m sorry. I’m not used to compliments. My sister is usually the one people notice. Attention makes me uncomfortable, so I deflect. But it’s still wrong of me to undercut your words that way.”
He leaned back in his chair.
Who the hell was this woman? Most people weren’t self-aware enough to recognize their behaviors and the reasons behind them. Even fewer people would openly admit they were wrong—and do it sitting on an outdoor patio in 40-degree weather after shifting away from the heat lamp so someone else’s dog could lay directly under it. She had even convinced the host to give them a few tablecloths and fashioned a makeshift bed so Jaka didn’t need to lie on the cold ground.
So far, nothing about her was setting off any alarm bells. He couldn’t see this woman as being involved with the mob and certainly not as Moresco’s girlfriend, so lying to her felt like chewing nails. On the other hand, she could be really good at keeping secrets. His instincts were excellent, but they weren’t perfect.
Phillipe had been keeping secrets, and he hadn’t had a fucking clue.
Regardless, if Moresco was having her followed, there was a reason. She was either on Moresco’s payroll and an excellent actress, or she was an innocent who had inadvertently attracted the attention of the mob. Either way, he couldn’t risk playing it straight with her. If she was on Moresco’s side, it was dangerous to ask direct questions. It might tip her off and blow the wholeoperation. If she was one more innocent in Moresco’s oily web, she’d be safer not knowing who he was or what Sal had done. She might panic or slip up and end up in even more danger. Keeping up the façade was the best option for both of them—and the surest way to keep her safe.
“So, you don’t get along with your sister?” he asked.
“What?” The word came out as a gasp. “Sage is my best friend.”
“Your best friend who gets all the compliments.”
Rosemary shook her head, the long blonde strands flicking over her shoulder. “No. It’s not like that. I love my sister.”
“But?” He knew there was abut. Her downcast eyes and flushed cheeks were a dead giveaway.
“My sister is amazing.”
“But?”
She crinkled her nose. “Are you always this pushy?”
“Yes. And I’m not going to let you change the subject. What’s thebut?”
She sighed, a huffy, irritated breath. Heat coiled low in his stomach. He knew she didn’t intend it to be, but the sound was soft and sexy.
“She tends to hover.”
He lifted a questioning eyebrow. “Hover?”
“I was sick when I was a teenager.”
She pushed at her silverware until each piece was perfectly straight, then repositioned her bread plate, water glass, and wineglass.
He waited. Undercover work had taught him the value of silence. Human nature inclined people to fill the void.
