“I was fond of Virgil,” she defended herself, and stirred the dough into a dense ball.
He lifted a skeptical brow. “Fond of his money, you mean.”
“That’s not true. He can be real charming.”
“He can also be a real son of a bitch, but being that you’ve only known him a month, you might not know that.”
Careful not to lose her temper and throw something at him again, and in turn damage her chances of receiving an invitation to stay for a few more days, Georgeanne prudently placed the bowl on the counter.
“What made you run out on your wedding?”
She certainly wasn’t about to confess her reasons to him. “I just changed my mind is all.”
“Or did it finally dawn on you that you were going to have to have sex with a man old enough to be your grandfather for the rest of his life?”
Georgeanne folded her arms beneath her breasts and scowled at him. “This is the second time you’ve brought up the subject. Why are you so fascinated by my relationship with Virgil?”
“Not fascinated. Just curious,” he corrected, and continued to cut a few more slices of ham, before setting down the knife.
“Has it occurred to you that I might not have had sex with Virgil?”
“No.”
“Well, I haven’t.”
“Bullshit.”
Her hands fell to her sides and curled into fists. “You have a dirty mind and a filthy mouth.”
Nonchalant, John shrugged and leaned one hip into the edge of the counter. “Virgil Duffy didn’t make his millions by leaving anything to chance. He wouldn’t have paid for a sweet young bed partner without testing the springs.”
Georgeanne wanted to yell in his face that Virgil hadn’t paid for her, but he had. He just hadn’t received a return on his investment. If she’d gone through with the wedding, he would have. “I didn’t sleep with him,” she insisted while her emotions pitched from anger to hurt. Anger that he should judge her at all and hurt that he should judge her so trashy.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly and a lock of his thick hair brushed his brow as he shook his head. “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t care if you slept with Virgil.”
“Then why do you keep talking about it?” she asked, and reminded herself that no matter how aggravating he was, she couldn’t lose her temper again.
“Because I don’t think you realize what you’ve done. Virgil is a very rich and powerful man. And you humiliated him today.”
“I know.” She lowered her gaze to the front of his white tank top. “I thought I might call him tomorrow and apologize.”
“Bad idea.”
She looked back up into his eyes. “Too soon?”
“Oh, yeah. Next year might be too soon. If I were you, I’d get the hell out of this state altogether. And as soon as possible.”
Georgeanne took a step forward, stopping several inches from John’s chest, and looked up at him as if she were on the edge of scared when, in truth, Virgil Duffy didn’t frighten her one bit. She felt bad for what she’d done to him today, but she knew he’d get over it. He didn’t love her. He only wanted her, and she didn’t intend to dwell on him tonight. Especially not when she had a more pressing concern, like finagling an until-you-can-get-your-life-together invitation out of John. “What’s he gonna do?” she drawled. “Hire someone to kill me?”
“I doubt he’ll go that far.” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “But he could make you one miserable little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl,” she whispered, and inched closer. “Or maybe you haven’t noticed.”
John pushed away from the counter and looked down into her face. “I’m neither blind nor retarded. I noticed,” he said, and slid his hand around her waist to the small of her back. “I’ve noticed a lot about you, and if you drop that robe, I’m sure you could keep me happy and smiling for hours.” His fingers drifted up her spine and brushed between her shoulders.
Even though John stood close, Georgeanne didn’t feel threatened. His broad chest and big arms reminded her of his strength, but without a doubt, she instinctively knew she could walk away at any time. “Sugar buns, if I dropped this robe, your smile would have to be surgically removed from your face,” she teased, her voice oozing southern seduction.
He lowered his hand to her bottom and cupped her right cheek in his palm. His eyes dared her to stop him. He was testing her, seeing just how far she’d let him go. “Hell, you might be worth a little surgery,” he said, and eased her close.