by Cara Nelson
“I refuse to abet such a blatantly patriarchal attempt at human trafficking.” Her low voice grew haughty, but no less irresistible for it.
“Human trafficking entails financial gain or compensation. I read Half the Sky, so don’t try to give me a vocabulary lesson and mischaracterize my dating methodology as an atrocity against women and children.”
“Prostitution, then.”
“Again, by definition, a financial transaction. I have never had to pay for or even coerce sexual favors from anyone.”
“You’re awfully insecure for such an arrogant man. I’d like to add you to my repertoire. May I record you?”
Jasper bristled at the implication and set his jaw. “No,” he barked.
“I’ll give you back the phone in three days—that’s when I’ll get my real phone back—if you’ll let me record you being arrogant and manipulative. I’d like to study your intonation and see if I can imitate it for work purposes. It’s more complex than I first thought,” she offered, dropping her voice so he had to step closer.
“No one is studying my voice. I’m not a test subject. I’m a CEO.”
“Congratulations. You must be very proud,” Hannah said slyly. “You’re not getting the phone tonight, and you’re obviously not going to get laid unless you mobilize another disposable tart. So I’ll buy you a cup of coffee if you’ll keep talking to me.”
“I don’t drink coffee,” he spat reflexively.
He was tempted to go to a diner with her, to keep talking to her, to see if he could win her over and perhaps to convince her to put that luscious mouth on him. She had full lips, bordering on a pout, but a tight, cross expression ruined their sensuality. Jasper thought that, given a chance, he could do away with her look of profound dissatisfaction.
“Okay. I’ll have coffee and you can have water or something healthy like that. Unless you’re afraid of tap water, too.”
“Why would I be afraid of tap water?” he said sourly.
“You acted like I asked you to tip back a mug of battery acid when I mentioned coffee. I assume it’s got additives or carcinogens or some crap like that and you’re afraid to drink it. Live a little.”
“I was trying to, but you took her phone,” he said with a rakish grin. “What kind of coffee do you drink? Isn’t tea better for your vocal chords?”
“Yes, Mom. I like coffee. The kind with lots of caffeine and sugar, and whipped cream if I can get it.” She laughed at him.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, equally irritated and aroused by her. This, he supposed, was banter…that snappy nonsense from black and white films that Clare used to go on about. He recalled her perpetual whining that he was a terrible communicator and never engaged with her. Why had he thought of her now? She had been utterly unlike this street urchin with the sexy voice and the fierce opinions. Banter was easy with Hannah Largent because she got a rise out of him.
“I’ll buy you a cup of coffee, all the whipped cream you want, and you can listen to me speak while I convince you to relinquish the phone to its rightful owner.” Jasper dialed up the charm, knowing full well that his smile was warm and showing just the hint of a dimple in his right cheek. Women loved that dimple.
“Sure. I’ll drink free coffee, but you’re not getting the phone. Let’s say it’s in the name of linguistics research.”
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Copyright Cara Nelson 2014
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