He leaned back in his chair, looking full of himself. Sexy, but gloating. She’d throw the chocolate mousse at him if it weren’t so delicious.
“Yes, I’m satisfied.”
Before he could get too full of himself, she continued, “But I’m still not buying your alien from another world story, nor that I’m part…” She frowned.
“Symtarian,” he supplied.
“Yeah, I’m not buying any of it. What are you? A bored trust fund baby? Too much time and money on your hands?”
“No.”
“Then where did you get all that money?” Let him answer that one.
“I took the money you gave me and reproduced it.”
The spoon she held clattered to the table, staining the white tablecloth with chocolate. She could feel the color draining from her face.
A waiter hurried forward, quickly cleaning the mess and telling her not to worry about it. As soon as he’d disappeared, she turned to Rogar. “You’re a counterfeiter?” she whispered.
He was thoughtful for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Yes, that’s what I did. I counterfeited the bill you gave me.” He smiled, as though he was proud that he understood what she’d said.
“That’s illegal.” She furtively glanced around the room, expecting the police to pounce on them any second, but everything looked the same as it had a moment ago. God, how had she gotten herself into this? Not only was he a psychopath, but a criminal as well.
“Would you like coffee, ma’am?” The waiter asked, bearing a silver coffeepot.
“No, I’m finished. Just the bill.” The waiter looked surprised that she didn’t want to linger, but then he eyed her uniform as though he found her quite uncouth.
The waiter cocked an imperious eyebrow. “As you wish.”
Ass.
“You don’t find the restaurant to your liking?” Rogar asked.
“It’s great.” She would never be able to show her face in here again, though. Not that she could afford this place.
Oh, no, they knew she worked at the zoo since she still wore her uniform. When they discovered the bills were phony, they’d come to arrest her, and she’d never get to work with the big cats.
The waiter came back with a leather folder and placed it beside Rogar. She reached across and grabbed it. Maybe she could leave them an IOU. No, that would probably get her in bigger trouble. She opened it and looked at the total. It took her a second to catch her breath. She wanted to cry.
The wine they’d had with their dinner had been three hundred dollars a bottle. The meal was one hundred and eighty. Oh, good Lord! The mousse was thirty dollars! Thirty freakin’ dollars for pudding? It didn’t matter that it was decadent and exquisite—no dessert was worth thirty dollars.
The waiter pried the leather folder from her hands and handed it back to Rogar, who casually reached into his pocket and peeled off 6, one-hundred-dollar bills. Before she could snatch the folder again, the waiter scooped it up in his hands with a wide grin and bowed before making a hasty exit.
Rogar came to his feet, then waited for her. A waiter hurried over and nudged her chair. What could she do? She came to her feet as the waiter pulled the chair out for her. Rogar handed him a twenty.
Of course they would fall all over themselves to do his bidding when he flashed money at them. She was halfway to the door when she remembered something and hurried back to the table. The staff had already started to clear it. She marched over to the silver wine bucket and grabbed what was left of the three-hundred-dollar wine, hugging the bottle close to her chest. If she was going to jail eventually, then she was damn well going to enjoy the fruits of her criminal behavior.
Her gaze dared Rogar to say something when she rejoined him. He didn’t.
The valet brought the car around. The young man lovingly caressed the side as he got out. She suddenly thrust the bottle of wine toward Rogar. “Here, I’m driving.”
He shrugged. “It makes no difference to me.”
He didn’t seem to care if she could even drive a standard. This car meant nothing to him. The high-dollar meal probably hadn’t, either. The injustice was almost too much to bear.
She scooted in on the driver’s side, and the valet closed her door. For a moment she just sat there, eyes closed as she got the feel of such an exquisite piece of machinery. Then she opened her eyes and fastened her seat belt.
“Buckle up,” she told Rogar. She was so going to show him what this baby could do.
“You can operate this vehicle?”
Now he wonders about his safety? She adjusted the seat to reach the pedals better. “Oh, yeah, I can drive it.” An old boyfriend had taught her what a real car could do, and she’d been hooked.
After pulling out into traffic, she headed toward the outskirts of the city. As soon as the traffic thinned to nothing but an occasional vehicle, she glanced toward Rogar. “Hang on.” For the first time, he looked a little nervous. He shouldn’t, she knew what she was doing.
She downshifted, then tapped the gas, that’s all it took with this baby, but she could feel the surge of power all the way up her arms. The wind blew her hair as a rush of excitement flowed over her entire body.
It had been a long time since she’d felt this free. No more problems, no more troubles. She was outrunning them. She didn’t have to think about how many times she’d been passed over when it came to the animal keeper job or the crappy house she rented or never having enough money, always being caught between a rock and a hard place. No, everything was blown away like the wind through her hair.
Trees rushed past, buildings and businesses were replaced by pastures, which is why she chose this isolated area to test the car’s speed. She laughed for the pure joy of it. But when she glanced at the gas gauge, she knew she’d have to turn around and go back or they would get stuck walking. The needle was almost on empty. It was fantastic while it lasted. She slowed, then pulled into a roadside park.
“Well, what did you think?” she asked after she turned the key off and slid around in her seat to face him.
“I think you know how to operate the antiquated machine,” he said very nonchalantly.
“You’re not fooling me for a moment.” She grinned. “Admit it, you loved the ride.”
He studied her, then before she could react, he leaned over, cupped her head with his hand, and brought her lips to his. She was just startled enough that she didn’t stop him. But then his lips were brushing across hers, and the heat began to build.
His tongue delved inside her mouth, caressing, touching, at the same time his hand slid over the front of her shirt, un-buttoning it as he went, then cupping her breast, brushing his thumb across her nipple. She moaned, pleasurable sensations sweeping over her.
She had to stop him. She barely knew the guy, and what she did know, made her question his sanity. Maybe she should start questioning hers as well because it felt so good, and it had been so long since a man had touched her.
The headlights from a passing eighteen wheeler caught them for a brief moment, but it was enough to bring her back to her senses. She pushed on his shoulders. He stopped, but when she looked at him, she could see the effort written on his face.
“I can’t,” she spoke softly.
“Why? You enjoyed my touch.”
He definitely said what he was thinking. Most guys would’ve tried to pull her back into their arms and attempt to kiss her into submission, or given up and tried again on another date, or moved on to greener pastures. They never asked why.
She took a deep breath. His gaze lowered. Damned full moon that left nothing to the imagination. She quickly buttoned her blouse. “I’m not ready to go that far with you.” How prim and proper did that sound? Sheesh!
He moved back to his seat. “Then I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
This guy was really full of himself. “And what if I’m never ready?”
“You were ready a moment ago, more than ready. You ached for more, and you were panting. You still haven’t accepted what you are. When you do, then we will mate.”