Marie Harte - Bending the Rules

“Is this where you offer to show me your etchings?” she asked drily as she got out of the car, once again before he could assist her.

“Now, Nat. Is that any way to talk to a man with a gift for turning a simple angus steak into a gourmet feast?”

She accepted his hand on the small of her back with a tiny start but didn’t tell him to remove it.

Like before, just touching her made his whole body tighten up. Their chemistry couldn’t be denied. He’d have to work that into tonight without giving up the ghost about his club identity. Not until she admitted to having been there first.

“So what’s on the menu?” she asked as they rode the elevator to the penthouse.

“Steak, corn and my blue ribbon potato salad. And of course, peach cobbler for dessert. Made by yours truly.”

She blinked. “Really? You can cook?”

“First the surprise I’m a fun guy, then shock that I can do more than boil water. What exactly have you been hearing about me, Nat?”

She flushed. “Nothing. Well, maybe there was a little talk at the office about you being a man whore and seducing women out of their panties with a flash of that grin.”

He put a hand to his heart, trying to block the image of seducing her out of her panties. “Man whore? You wound me. I’m nothing more than a sweet old Southern boy.”

She frowned. “One who more than knows how to show a girl a good time. Lacey Anderson is a fan, by the way.”

He paused, saved from answering by the chime of the elevator. They’d reached his floor. They stepped out into his hallway that led to two units, his and his elderly neighbor’s, who was currently spending her summer in Switzerland. He had the whole floor to himself. Just him and Nat. Alone.

“So. You and Lacey?” she prodded.

Damn. “Lacey’s a great gal.” He smiled, hoping like hell Lacey hadn’t said anything bad about him. The Southern belle had been utterly vanilla. She’d bored him to tears in less than three dates, and he’d done his best to be nice as he let her down easily. His reputation as a charmer had come in handy then. Now, perhaps, not so much.

“She sings your praises if anyone asks.”

He opened the door and ushered her inside. “So, you asked?” Pleased, he watched her walk around, studying his place.

“I did. Wanted to know what kind of snake charmer I’d agreed to a second date-that-isn’t-a-date with.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

“Then why are you grinnin’, sugar?”

She laughed. “All right, I’m not sorry. You’re a little too good to be true. Loyal, rich, handsome, pleasant to be around. I wonder what skeletons shake around in your closet.” Her penetrating gaze told him she knew some of them.

Say it, Nat. Ask me about last night. “I’m just a single guy looking for true love.”

She raised a brow.

“Or true lust,” he added. “I’m not picky.”

She snorted. “Not what I heard.”

“If I ply you with wine, will you tell me what you heard?”

“Maybe, if your wine is any good.”

He frowned. “Woman, don’t even think of insulting my taste in alcohol. I run S&F, you know.”

“Well then, how about a beer?”

The man had a lethal grin. And those eyes… Damn it. It was R. Rex and R, the same person. She was ninety-nine percent sure. But that one percent possible error tickled at the back of her mind. Not a good thing to be wrong about something like this.

She studied Rex’s eyes, the dark brown so deep she wanted to drown in them. He showed what he felt in his expression, no hiding his feelings.

He clearly liked her, and he wanted her. His approval made her feel good, made her feel cherished. An odd feeling for a woman used to being the one doing all the protecting. At work, with her parents, her siblings. Nat always took charge, and she liked it. So why, lately, did she want something a little different? Why couldn’t she figure out what that different might be?

She followed him through his expansive living room, with views to die for on two sides, into a gourmet kitchen.

The condo was all sophisticated charm, much like her host. No glass and chrome contemporary décor, but earthy finishings and comfortable furniture. The kitchen boasted black granite countertops, antique white cabinetry, stainless-steel appliances and an island complete with a prep sink and tray full of goodies.

“Cheese and crackers?” she asked, pleasantly surprised.

He nodded. “Had to let the brie set. Hope you like it.”

She did. She hadn’t expected he’d appreciate a sophisticated palate. “You seem like more of a beer and burger kind of guy. The cheese and crackers are nice though, don’t get me wrong.”

He brought her a beer and poured it into an S&F glass. She liked the squirrel and bird on the label, thinking it both catchy and cutting edge. The man knew how to market his product. A glance at him had her adding himself to said product.

Rex sure knew how to wear faded denim.

“I’m thinking you don’t know much about me at all, sugar. So tonight, we’re going to swap—”

“Spit?”

He stopped in the middle of his sentence. “What?”

“Swap spit. It’s all I could think of.”

He snorted. “Dirty mind. We’ll swap stories. Your childhood, mine. What you like, what I like. I mean, aside from me. ’Cause we both know we like me.”

“And there he is. Captain Ego to the rescue.”

He grinned, and that dimple winked at her again. So unfair. She took a large sip of beer, pleased with the light citrusy taste. “Hey. This is good.”

“Now that I know you like our Feather Gold label, I’ll make a note.”

“You do that. And while you’re at it, tell me how I should believe you’re only after friendship. Because this feels a lot like a date. How are you different from every other guy trying to wine and dine me into bed?”

“Well damn, sugar. How many are there?” He set the oven on broil.

Okay, maybe that had come out more conceited than she’d intended. “Not that many. But I like you, and that worries me. You were awfully chummy with Jessup a week ago.”

“I told you. He’s a friend of my parents. Ty and I brought some business into town, and he wanted to thank us. Nothing political. At least, not on my end.”

She didn’t want to believe him, yet she started to. “Well, then explain how at the gala everyone was singing your praises. Within five seconds of meeting you, even Evelyn Sharpe wanted your autograph, and she’s a full-time grouch. So who’s the real Rex Samson? Authentic nice guy, or snake oil salesman?” A question she should really know before riding the man up and down like a see-saw.

Rex sighed. “Sugar—Nat—” he corrected when she gave him a look. “I’m a simple man who wants to spend a quiet, entertaining night with a beautiful woman. As a friend. What’s so bad about that?”

“Oh, you’re good. Not that I believe a word you just said.” She drank more of her beer, deciding to grab a six-pack the next time she went shopping. The beer would last a good month or more, but she’d have it on hand and think of Rex when she drank it.

“Honey, there’s good and there’s great. Let’s not label each other until we open the door on those skeletons just dyin’ to get out.” He smiled, a challenge in his eyes. “Now how do you like your steak?”

“Medium.”

“Fine choice. Me too.” He pulled out a tray of fresh beef from the refrigerator and popped it into his oven. Then he fetched some corn cobs he set on boil, and followed up with his fabled blue ribbon potato salad.

Potato salad—her Achilles heel.

“Now how about I feed you, and you tell me what you’re really like under all that starch, Natalie Wielder.”

She stared from the potato salad to him, wishing and not wishing that he and R were the same man. It was hard enough to keep her distance from the charmer promising to satisfy her appetite. Should he also be able to handle her more carnal needs, she had a bad feeling she’d fall hard for this man. A man who just might hurt more than her career, but her fragile heart too.

She sighed. “All my starch, hmm? How about we talk about my week at work, my budgets, the trouble with the logistics on a few projects, and my nemesis, Josh Jessup? Then maybe you’ll understand why I’m wired all the time.”

“Do tell.” Darn, he had to go looking interested in a detailed list that had already bored her. She mentally added good listener to his attributes and did her best not to look besotted.

“You asked for it…”

Sunday afternoon, Rex mulled over the past evening with his best friend, wondering how to get the stubborn woman to admit she liked being with him, both in and out of bed. “I’m telling you, Brian. She’s the one.”

Brian’s narrowed eyes spoke volumes. Faith joined them outside on the patio of their home, bringing him a glass of sweet tea. Lord love her, the girl made it better than Rex’s own momma, not that he’d ever tell Sue Samson that.

“Don’t let me interrupt. What’s this about Natalie Wielder being ‘the one’?” Faith asked.

Rex sighed. “I think I’m falling for her. You know what we did last night?”

Brian raised a brow.

“Not that,” said Rex.

“Yeah, Brian. Get your mind out of the gutter.” Faith winked at Rex. “But I bet you wanted to.”

He laughed. “It’s hell being around her and being good.” He paused. “No pun intended, Brian.”

“Really? This again? Didn’t you use up all the mileage on my last name like ten years ago?”

“Serves you right for trying to sully my innocent time with Nat.”