Not that she approved.
The guy was a jerk.
It didn’t matter how many holiday dinners he attended at her parents’ house. Once a jerk, always a jerk. Even if said jerk looked ridick cute in the fugly sweater she’d bought him last Thanksgiving—a Reindeer complete with a nose that glowed thanks to a battery pack he had to smuggle in his jeans’ pocket. Sure, he’d been game to wear that monstrosity, but it didn’t mean she had to like him.
He was bad news. Always had been.
She’d been crossing the parking lot toward the building when the new-model Arias car had slalomed onto company property. Only James would have no shame when handling what she knew was a prototype. That information alone told her that, even as she jumped at the squeals the car was making, she’d be crossing paths with him far sooner than she’d intended.
When he leaped out of the car, a huge grin on his face from the adrenaline of speeding around land belonging to him—which meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted, when he wanted—she had to admit, the bastard was cute.
And when he clamped eyes on her, the astonishment on his face didn’t make him look a doofus. If anything, he looked even hotter. His hair was like gold. Seriously. Gold. She couldn’t make up the color if she tried. It was so many shades of bronze and blond, silvery highlights and dark copper strands, that it should have looked like he’d spent a good ten hours a week in the salon. But he’d had gold hair for as long as she could remember. Plus, no stylist was so crazily good.
Even when it came down to looks, nature had been kind to the dick. Not only did he have hazel eyes that could cut through a woman’s defenses before she could do little more than giggle, he was tall—closer to six-two than six-five—had the body of a gym bunny, and constantly wore suits that were like a female version of porn.
In fact, scratch that, he was walking porn.
There, she’d said it.
But if looks hadn’t been enough of a blessing, then there were the five billion blessings he’d had in his bank account since he’d gained control of his trust fund.
She couldn’t complain too much about that. With that trust fund, he’d plowed nearly two-thirds of it into her brother’s whacko genius brain, and Arias was the result. Though the investment had been all him, he still gave Aidan a fifty percent share.
The jerk could be generous.
She’d never said he was all bad, but neither was he as great as everyone thought.
“Hannah?” His voice was like molten chocolate. “Is that you?” He squinted against the sun, and she realized she was mostly in shadow, that was why he couldn’t recognize her.
Despite her agitation, she’d been ready to snarl at him, wondering how many women he’d had to have kissed of late if he’d forgotten what she damn well looked like, but her being in shadow enabled Hannah to forgive him.
Barely.
She nodded at him. Tightly. Unbending enough to smile at him slightly, she murmured, “Yep, it’s me, James. How are you?”
They hadn’t spoken since Labor Day weekend. There was a very good reason for that.
His eyes were filled with flames that scorched her as he raked his gaze over her. She felt every single ounce of that perusal, and though she wanted to reject it, wanted to fail to respond to it, she couldn’t.
Everything female within her clenched down in response. Hard.
Why? Hannah wanted to rail at her body. Why him?
Of all the men, in all the world, why James Arias?
With his cocky, risk-seeking missile nature, and more money than sense, he wasn’t an easy man. He wasn’t a comfortable one either. And all she’d wanted, for as long as she could remember, was someone comfortable. Someone who, sure, could rile her up between the sheets, but in life? No way. She wanted security. Steadfastness. Not this insanity. Not a man who made her question everything she knew and held dear.
Who, without even being a part of her everyday world, could make her destabilize everything she’d been working toward. The thought had her gulping.
The past week had been… tiring. Well, that was an understatement. She was exhausted, and jet lag wasn’t the source of the kind of fatigue that made her feel shaky in the early winter sun.
“I’m fine. How are you?” he asked, but his voice
was husky, and his gaze was still raking over her like she was hot coals and he was being burnt by the embers.
The trite trivialities made her sigh. “I’m okay, I’m here to see Aidan,” she replied. When he flinched, she realized she’d put that point across a little too well.
But it was imperative he realize she wasn’t here to see him.