Pride & Pleasure (The KNIGHT Brothers Book 1) (6 page)

“I’m sure. Why don’t you want a girlfriend?”

He cocked his chin. “I’m not the relationship type.”

“That surprises me.” She cut into her lamb, brought it to her mouth and chewed.

“And why is that?” He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

“Rich, available, smart, and educated. Isn’t that what women want?” She dropped a piece of potato at the corner of her mouth and she licked it clean. His gut clenched. He didn’t like this, not one bit.

****

Avary shifted in her seat. Victor seemed calm and collected while every cell in her body quivered under his scrutiny, reminding her of how she felt in high school when she was gawky and uncoordinated. ‘Tripping’ became her middle name. She swallowed a bite of lamb, and even though it was moist and delicious, it stuck in her throat. Drinking water to push it down into her esophagus, she was glad there wasn’t any need for the Heimlich. If Victor was that close he’d probably send her into convulsions.

She couldn’t believe she was discussing the subject of romantic partners with him, the man who made Virginia’s bachelor of the year, while she was Avary, the one who hadn’t dated in years and had never been touched under her clothes. He cocked his head and watched closely. There was no way he could see into her thoughts, yet his pensive glare could almost make her wonder.

“Some women want that, but I have a feeling a woman like you doesn’t.”

“What gives you that impression?”

“Maybe in the way you look at me as if I have grown horns.”

His gaze held hers and she was defenseless but to continue watching him. “You’re imagining things.”

“So I’m mistaken that you don’t trust me?”

“Trust is a small word with a large meaning. I’m cautious.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer. He drank from his wine glass and swallowed as his mouth pursed slightly. “You’re staring. Would you like to try? It’s from the vineyard here.”

It wasn’t the wine she was staring at. She looked into the dark contents of the glass that he was holding out for her. Logic told her to deny the offering, but something else inside of her reared its head. She was an adult, not back home sitting cross-legged on the couch drinking a soda and eating a bag of popcorn. She was a bit curious what his wine tasted like, or rather the wine from his vineyard. Taking the glass, she brought it to her lips and sipped. The wine warmed her stomach. “Are you happy? I’ve tasted it.” She swallowed. The idea of sharing a glass with him made tingles erupt inside of her chest. It was the simplest, yet most erotic thing.

“What do you think?”

“Sweet, but not overpowering.”

“We have rules here with regard to wine. One. A bottle should never be drank alone. Two. Like people, each wine has a personality. Three. Just as a bottle is opened, it’s important to keep an open mind. Four. Never drink bad wine.”

“Are those your rules?” He seemed more relaxed, unlike the distant aloof man she’d met earlier in his office.

“My father’s.” He took back the glass and emptied it.

“I saw his portrait at the staircase. You look a lot like him.”

“The prominent Knight gene. My brothers have it too. It’s a curse as well as a reward.” He poured another glass from the bottle.

“You have brothers?” How did she miss that while researching him?

“Four. They like their privacy.”

“Do they live here, in Virginia?”

“Declan lives in Atlanta. Christian close to Savannah. Quentin in Montana, and Seth in Tennessee. We’re all scattered.” He noticed the trembling in her fingers when she reached for her water. “Tell me, Avary, are you nervous around all men, or just me?”

“Pretty much all men.”
Except it’s different with you.

“So I shouldn’t be flattered that I affect you?” He chuckled. It was a nice sound, but foreign. He didn’t smile or laugh nearly enough.

“But I do find you, well, menacing.”
Why did I just admit that?
Her cheeks flamed. She concentrated on stabbing another bite of lamb and before she could get it to her mouth, he was answering.

“That’s a good idea, Avary. You should be leery.” He smiled as if he got one over on her.

“Yeah, I sort of figured that you like when people are intimidated by you.” Popping the lamb into her mouth, she chewed thoughtfully. 

“Now, I didn’t say I enjoyed intimidating people. I said
you
should be leery.” There was that certain look again, one that seeped through her skin and filled her bloodstream with warmth and adrenaline.

“Why am I separated from the pack?”

He lifted a brow. “Haven’t you heard the rumors about my reputation?”

“Yes, but on the contrary, I’ve been here at your estate for over two hours and you haven’t yet tried to come on to me. That’s either a record or it makes the papers who write silly stuff seem even sillier.” A smile danced at the corner of his mouth. “Of course, we must factor in that I’m a temporary employee and certainly not your type. Didn’t I read somewhere that you never cross lines with employees?”

“I have no clue, except I have said that very thing on several occasions and it still holds true. Although, I am starting to think you have a mysterious side to you, Avary.”

She snorted. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong. I’m about as mysterious as a dead fish in an alley behind a seafood restaurant.”

“You blush after every other sentence. Whether you admit it or not, that’s mysterious. I’d like to know what thoughts are causing the flushing. Sexual, maybe?” He continued eating.

“Pale skin and the warmth of the room. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

He raised his eyebrows then popped a small bite of potato into his mouth. “I think it’s more than that.”

She placed her fork on her plate. “Do you always have to have your way?”

“I always get my way, Avary,” his soft voice seeped into her pores. Each time he said her name she compared it to a harp playing.

“No doubt, I’m sure. When you surround yourself with people who are paid to do your bidding that’s a given.” Why were things taking on a serious note? Couldn’t they just sit and have a nice business meal? She had a feeling most things regarding Victor were never simple.

“Oh, that’s right. You have a prejudice against rich people.” His gaze drilled into her.

“No, I have prejudice against people who believe they can buy anything they wish.” She folded her arms at the edge of the table.

“Ouch. Straight for the heart, yes indeed.” He lifted a hand and placed it over his heart and thrummed his fingers against his chest, mimicking a fast rhythmic beating.

“Don’t take it personal, Victor. Most people born with a silver spoon in their mouth are used to buying everything.”

He blinked. Had she gone too far? She needed a filter too. Something about this man irked her into saying things she shouldn’t. She started to apologize, but he smiled, showing off an even row of white teeth and deep dimples.
So he liked that, huh?

“Tell me a little about yourself,” he asked.

“I think you know everything.” She tugged her hair behind her ear in nervous tension.

“I haven’t even gotten past the first layer. Do you have brothers and sisters?” He cut into his lamb.

“A sister. She’s a nurse. Her name is Dawn.”

“You two are close, I can tell.” He brought his fork to his mouth and she watched his lips move.

“Yes, but how do you know?” The temperature rose by at least ten degrees.

“Your eyes lit up when you started talking about her.” He sipped his wine and again she was mesmerized by the shape of his lips. The bottom was larger than the top.

“I owe her a great deal. Since—” She didn’t continue. Who did she think she was talking to? A bestie? No, he was a far cry from being a friend.

“The violent mugging?”

Her gaze automatically fell to the scar on her hand. The sleeve had moved up on her wrist, revealing the wound. She wasn’t used to worrying about it this often. She moved her hand under the table, out of view. “Yes.”

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Hide your scar? I assure you, it’s far worse with you dragging your sleeve down every few seconds than the wound itself. I hardly saw it.”

She often wondered how others were always comfortable talking about her scars, yet she remained reserved. “A habit, I guess.”

“One you should break. If I had a scar like that I’d show it off everywhere I went. You’re a survivor, Avary.” He sipped his wine. “Now, as you were saying, do you and your sister live together?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes. I moved in with her and she’s been a huge support system for me. Are you and your sister close?”

“Very. We sort of relied on each other after our mother died.” He turned his attention to his plate.

“I can’t imagine how sad it is to lose both parents. How old were you when your mother passed?” She wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about their deaths, but he was the one who opened the door to the personal conversation.

“I was fifteen.” He shrugged. He looked nice in the red sweater, but she had a feeling there wasn’t much he could wear that didn’t work on him. He had a prominent bone structure, naturally tanned skin and tall—everything that made up a masculine man. She wasn’t sure how tall but when he was standing close to her, he dwarfed her five foot three frame. “Do your parents live close?”

She hated discussing her boring life, but if she thought back, she’d never had anyone ask so many questions before. “They moved to Florida several years ago. They wanted me to go with them, but I couldn’t leave Dawn, or the city. I didn’t want them to leave either, but they had always dreamed of retiring south. They have a small house on the water, and dad and his friends can play golf to his heart’s desire. What about your dad? Must have been a horrible loss.”

“Oh, I think we lost him years before we buried him.” A troubled expression swept across his features.

“Are you talking about when your mom died?”

“He worked a lot before she died, that I can remember, but after, we never saw him. I’m afraid he and I never saw eye-to-eye on most things, which eventually made the separation between us wider,” he said dryly.  He slid his finger around the rim of his glass.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t be. Before he died we had a divulging chat and a lot of things were cleared up.” He scratched his chin. “Are you finished?” He pointed at her plate. She felt bad because she’d left some uneaten. Not because it wasn’t good, the meal was delicious, but because she’d been engrossed in talking with him. No matter how much she wished it wasn’t true, he fascinated her.

“Yes, I am.” She hoped he didn’t stop talking. “He never remarried?”

He shook his head. “Nope, but he had mistresses. We, as in my sister, and brothers and I, didn’t have any clue about them until one showed up at his funeral and later spoke to me privately, asking if he’d left her anything in his will.” He sniffed loudly. “I think she was heartbroken when I told her no.”

“That’s very sad.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “I never quite saw it that way. I always found it sad that he was a sixty-year-old man that needed a harem to keep him happy.”

She looked into her glass of water. The ice chips were almost melted. “Maybe he loved your mother so much that he couldn’t find just one woman that came close to her, so he needed several.”

“If only I could believe that.”

“I’ve seen a variety of women on your arm, Victor. What’s your excuse?” she asked.

“Oh, now have you?” He laughed. “And here I thought we socialized in different circles.”

“In pictures.” She swallowed.

He blew out a long breath. “
Old
pictures, sweetheart. I’m afraid my time is divided by many other things these days.”

Did he just call me sweetheart?
She slid her finger through the condensation on her glass. “That must be very hard on you,” she teased.

“Are you a romantic, Avary?”

“Do I believe in love? Yes, I do.”

He chuckled. “The L word.”

“You can’t even say it? You’ll never find it unless you have hope.” Who was she to give advice? She could easily back herself into a corner with this conversation.

“I never have outside of my family. I’m not sure it exists.”

“Wow, that’s awfully pessimistic, especially for someone who saw how much his father loved his mother.” There was an underlying sadness about him that she could see when he spoke about his family.

His eyes clouded with…irritation? He blinked and the mysterious expression vanished into a blank gaze. “Oh yes, he loved her, but my mother had the patience of a saint.”

“Don’t all marriages require a good amount of patience? My mother and father have been married for thirty years and they always had ups and downs.”

He shrugged. “My father always put his work ahead of anything else.”

“Are you afraid you’ll do that too? If you found the one?”