Hammered by Ruth Bainbridge

Author:Ruth Bainbridge [Bainbridge, Ruth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-30T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

“You look like a parfait. Sweet, tempting, and cool to my tongue …”

Self edit!

That was what Lyddie did in holding back in expressing her opinion of this old jerk’s description. But it was useless. Even if she chastised the old geezer, there wasn’t a chance in the world that he’d pick up on the times they were a’changing. Some men were destined to not understand that women didn’t like being relegated to dessert trays.

The mission.

The mission was why she was here and not to give a crash course in Sexism 101. Wexler got her head back in the game, even though she no longer could stand the egotistical shrew named Sam. But she had promised that scarecrow she’d do this, and she would.

But it was positively the last favor.

Ever!

She was so done with that ungrateful wench, and besides, there was Bailey. She had to concentrate on creating her own happiness. She’d take a page out of Sam’s book entitled ULTIMATE EGOTISM and run with it. So instead of telling off the lech sitting across from her, she reached for another breadstick, patting the hand that had tried to take liberties.

“That’s so nice of you to say, Mr. Harper, but we were talking about Dengrove. You know, the man who bilked you out of money?”

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong, honey,” he said, relaxing back and straightening his tie. She knew men’s clothing like she knew how to draw a cat eye with liquid liner. The one he had on was silk and had to have set him back a few thou, but who was counting? If you’re megarich, you go with what you like—and to impress women who remind you of unctuous treats in patisserie windows.

“Peter Dengrove bilked the others out of their money. He only used me to get to them. He set me up good,” he muttered before reciting the details she already knew.

The art of interrogation involved playing dumb, something she was good at. She’d rehearsed enough with Bailey and here it was coming in handy in getting the old gent back on discussing the subject at hand.

“For a long while, his victims actually thought I had something to do with it,” he added.

“And did you?”

The glass he’d picked up hovered in the air, right in front of the lips pursing in anticipation of a sip of cool water. His eyes darted and narrowed. It wasn’t the metallic dress in the liquid gold material she was rocking that he was focused on. Nor was it the curvaceous body that spilled over like molten lava. It was her brain.

He finally noticed she had one.

“No,” he answered quietly before resuming the quenching of his thirst. One sip turned into a few deep gulps, and before anyone knew it, the tumbler was drained.

Refill time.

The ever-attentive waiter performed that duty. But then L’Bebe was noted for its excellent service.

“But suspicions take time to get over. Like I said, Peter Dengrove set me up but good,” he grumbled.

He dug into the pan-seared trout, shutting out the conversation and concentrating on the food.

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