My Fair Billionaire(30)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

That, finally, made her look up. “What?”

He smiled again, but this time it was less arrogant than it was challenging. “I said, ‘No,’” he repeated. “I’m not going to watch my language. I’m sick of watching my language.”

To prove his point, he followed that announcement with a string of profanity that made Ava wince. Then he fairly rocked back on his heels, as if waiting for her to retaliate. No, as if he was looking forward to her retaliation. As if he would relish it.

So, in retaliation, Ava went back to her tea. She dunked the strainer a few more times, removed it from the brew and set it aside. Then she lifted the cup to her lips and blew softly to cool it. When she braved a glimpse at Peyton, she could see that his annoyance had steeped into anger. She replaced her tea on the counter without tasting it. But she continued to gaze into its pale yellow depths when she spoke.

“No more arguing, Peyton. I’m tired of it, and it gets us nowhere.”

He said nothing in response, only stood with his body rigid, glaring at her. Then, gradually, he relented. She could almost feel the fight go out of him, too, as if he were just as tired of the antagonism as she was.

“If I apologize for my behavior this afternoon,” he asked, “will you come back to work for me?”

She told herself to say no and assure him that he’d learned enough to manage the rest of the way by himself. But for some reason, she said nothing.

“You said we still have a lot of work to do,” he reminded her.

She told herself to admit she’d only said that because she hadn’t wanted to end their time together. But for some reason, she said nothing.

“I mean, what if Caroline sets up a date for me and Francesca that involves seafood? I don’t know how to eat a lobster that doesn’t include slamming it on a picnic table a half dozen times.”

She told herself to tell him he should just ask the matchmaker not to send them to Catch Thirty-Five.

“Or what if she makes us go to a wine bar? You and I have barely covered wine, and that’s something you rich people always end up talking about at some point.”

She told herself to tell him he should just ask the matchmaker not to send them to Avec.

“Or, my God, dancing. I don’t know how to do any of that Arthur Murray stuff. I can’t even do that ‘Gangnam Style’ horse thing.”

Although that made her smile, Ava told herself to tell him he should just ask the matchmaker not to send them to Neo.

She told herself to tell him all those things. Then she heard herself say, “All right. I’ll teach you about seafood, wine and dancing between now and the end of next week.”

“And some other stuff, too,” he interjected.

She looked up at that and immediately wished she hadn’t. Within the passage of a few moments, he’d somehow become even more attractive than he was before. He looked…gentler. More personable. More approachable. Like the sort of man any woman in her right mind would want…

“What other stuff?” she asked, quelling the thought before it fully formed.

He seemed at a loss for a minute, then said, “I’ll make a list.”

“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly. It was only for another week. Surely she could be around him for one more week without losing her heart. Mind, she quickly corrected herself. Without losing her mind.

“Do you promise?” he asked, sounding uncertain.

It was an odd request. Why did he want her to promise? It was as if they were back to being adolescents. Why didn’t he trust her to follow through? She’d done her part this week to teach him all the things he’d asked her to help him with. It was only when he’d thrown those lessons out the window and turned into a boor that she’d walked away.

“Yes, I promise.”

“You promise to help me with everything I need help with?”

“Yes. I promise. But in return, you have to promise you’ll stop challenging me every step of the way.”

He grinned at that, but there was nothing arrogant or challenging in the gesture this time. In fact, this time, when Peyton smiled, he looked quite charming. “Oh, come on. You love it when I challenge you.”

Oh, sure. About as much as she had loved it in high school.

“Promise me,” she insisted.

He lifted his right hand, palm out, as if taking a pledge. “I promise.”

“This day’s a wash, though,” she told him. “It’s too late to get started on anything new.”

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved at the tearoom,” he said, surprising her again.

“And I’m sorry I made you go to a tearoom,” she conceded.

The remark reminded her she was still wearing her hat and gloves, and she lifted her hands to inspect the latter. She’d seen them in a vintage clothing store when she was still in college and hadn’t been able to resist them. What had possessed her to buy white gloves with more buttons than a lunar module? Oh, right. To match the white dress with more buttons than Cape Canaveral that she’d bought at a different vintage clothing store. She began the task of unfastening each of the pearly little buttons on her left glove.

“No, don’t,” Peyton said abruptly.

When she looked at him, she saw that his gaze was fixed on her two gloved hands. “Why not?”

Now his gaze flew to her face, and she couldn’t help thinking he looked guilty about something. “Uh…it’s just…um…I mean…ah…” He swallowed hard. “They just look really nice on you.”

His cheeks were tinged with the faintest bit of pink, she noted with astonishment. Was he actually blushing? Was that possible? Surely it was due to the bad lighting in the kitchen. Even so, something in his eyes made heat spark in her belly, spreading quickly outward, warming parts of her that really shouldn’t be warming at the moment.

“Thank you,” she said, the words coming out a little unevenly.

When she started to unbutton her glove once more, Peyton lifted a hand halfway to hers, looking as if he wanted to object again. She halted, eyeing him in silent question, and he dropped his hand with clear reluctance. How odd, she thought. She went back to the task, but couldn’t help noticing how he still pinned his gaze to her hands, and how a muscle in his jaw twitched as his cheeks grew ruddier. Where she normally had no trouble removing the garments, for some reason, suddenly, her hands didn’t want to cooperate. When the second button took longer to free than the first, and the third took even longer than the second, Peyton started to lift a hand toward hers again, closer this time, as if he wanted to help. And this time, he didn’t drop it.