Page 13
“Do you ever see her?”
“I haven’t seen Cressida since we broke up, four years ago.”
She let out a low whistle. “Cressida is kind of a bullshit name.”
He laughed then. “I have known four Cressidas, I’ll have you know. And I like the name.”
“I’ll just bet you have,” she responded with an acerbic shake of her head. “I should have said it’s a rich, aristocratic name.”
“Well, yes. I can’t argue with you there.”
“Can we keep it off the list though, if we do this?”
“List?”
“Baby names.”
He laughed. “Sure. That’s fine with me.”
“So why America?”
He took another drink of champagne. “I have business interests here.”
“Your company is global. You could be based anywhere, including London.”
Of course she knew a lot of things about him, courtesy of their interactions over the apartment. “It suited me to be away from home.”
“Ah,” she said, eyes narrowing perceptively. “Let me guess: you moved here about four years ago?”
His smile was wry. “Pretty much.”
“Poor little rich boy, you ran away.”
“My turn,” he said, leaning closer, ignoring the frisson of heat that travelled through him when their knees brushed beneath the table.
“For what?”
“A question.”
“I’m not sure that’s part of our deal. You said you ‘knew me’ well enough.”
His smile was wry. “Indulge me.”
Her eyes flared with something like heat for a brief, dangerous moment before she tamped down on it. He moved backwards so their knees were no longer touching.
“Unless you’re too scared?”
“I’m not,” she said, but almost by rote. As though fear was something she refused to admit to, refused to feel.
Interesting.
“You’re an extremely successful realtor.”
“That’s not a question.”
“I’m getting there.”
She tilted her head, as if to encourage him to continue.
