“Who up until yesterday was going to be your father-in-law,” he added incredulously. “You didn’t mind then.”
“That is the brightest silver lining in this whole thing. The way that man uses people, his son included, is disgusting.” This time she looked at him, meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry. I am sure this will be great in a business sense for your company. I’d just make sure you’re going into it with your eyes wide open.”
“Your concern is duly noted, but I think I can handle Dick Eastman. As far as I’m concerned, this deal is going to give Sorensen Construction the opportunity to become a more recognizable name, which will have far wider benefits than just this contract.”
She shrugged. “Just glad it’s you and not me. I always got the impression he was looking at me more for my gene pool, for what I could pass onto the next generation of Eastmans than any happiness I might give his son.”
He could see it. Dick was definitely more old school than Cruz liked—more caveman-esque—but it wasn’t like he was joining the family. Wasn’t going to be marrying a sister or a daughter. It was business. That was all.
But it did give him a little more insight into Payton Vaughn. Made him a little more sympathetic. It seemed that in her eyes, the only value she’d been made to feel in her twenty-nine years, was in the parties she hosted, the people she rubbed shoulders with, and the man and family she could marry into. Whether he was a cheating, lying bastard or not.
At least she was finally standing up for herself. Finding her own value, which, from where she was coming from, was pretty amazing. Admirable even…
After ten minutes of listening to Cruz’s fingers click across the keyboard, Payton reached over and flipped the radio back on. “Is this going to bother you?”
“I can work through anything. Just keep your attention on the road.”
“Yes, Dad,” she said in a singsong voice. Jeez. He needed to loosen up.
She hazarded a quick peek at her companion. Even without a change in clothes or access to his own toiletries he looked…pretty damn good. The shadow around his jaw was dark and pronounced, and combined with those wicked brown eyes that looked at her with an intensity that always made her feel a little uncomfortable, he was sinfully sexy. His shirt might not be as crisp as it was yesterday, but with the sleeves rolled up above his forearms—which had dark, wispy hair curled nicely against his tanned, warm skin—he still managed to maintain a presence. One that had had the front desk attendant at the hotel almost in a puddle at his feet.
It wasn’t like Payton hadn’t noticed Cruz’s dangerous good looks when she’d first seen him. But after she overheard him insulting her, sight unseen, it had been easier to envision some added horns and a tail making him a caricature of pure evil. It was easier to loath and dismiss him as a jerk, because then she could ignore the fact that being near him set her blood boiling in more ways than one.
But now, with their new and tentative truce, and his surprisingly supportive demeanor over the past few hours, it was harder for her to put up her usual blockers where he was concerned. Which could get dangerous.
Couldn’t he at least have BO? Or flat and greasy hair? But no, he smelled decidedly masculine in the close quarters of the car, something like incense and leather. Dark. And of course his hair was lustrous. Almost disgustingly so.
Gah. She needed to clear her head. Where was a familiar tune to sing to?
She didn’t know any of these songs. It was a road trip. They needed tunes. Okay, she needed tunes. It was just how it was done.
“Hey, do you have any music on that phone of yours? I think this car can sync with your phone’s Bluetooth, if you have something worth listening to.”
“No.” He continued to click away at the keyboard.
“No, seriously. I won’t critique it—well, not too much. But I need something I can sing to.”
“I don’t keep music on my phone,” he said matter-of-factly.
What? She shot him a disbelieving look.
“Eyes on the road,” he reminded her, without taking his attention off the laptop screen.
“You’re kidding me, right? You’ve got to have something.”
He shrugged. “Never had a need for it. My phone is for making calls and texts and for sending and receiving emails when I can’t be on the computer. Those are the only reasons I need a phone. If I wanted to listen to music, I’d buy a radio.”
“You know, for a guy who can’t be more than…forty—”
“Thirty-five.”
She suppressed a smile, knowing very well how old he was but enjoying the rancor in his tone. “Thirty-five, then…you sure act like you’re seventy. I bet you yell at small children who step on your lawn back home too.” Which again she knew wasn’t true because he lived in a condo up by the Capital. Not that she’d been stalking him, but Kate had mentioned it once in passing. “And I bet you bemoan the invention of the television and the arrival of that devil music called rock and roll.”
She snuck another glance at her now silent partner. His jaw flexed, either in irritation or humor, it was hard to tell. “So why even get a smartphone if you’re not going to take advantage of all the features? What about apps? Have you downloaded any of the free apps? Twitter? Facebook?”
“Please,” he said, and made a face. “What a waste of time.”
“Netflix? Pandora? What about Fandango?” More head shaking. “Okay, so you and Becca are out on a date and—”
“I told you I’m not seeing Becca anymore.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. So you’re out on a date with someone and you both decide you feel like a movie. What are you going to do? Find a paper? Call the theater? With the app, you just touch the screen and it lists all the theaters in your area, what movies are playing, and show times. You’re totally set. It’s magic,” she said and snapped her fingers for effect.
“I can assure you, when I take a woman out on a date, I know the plans for the evening ahead of time. I don’t ‘wing it.’”
She gave him a sideways look. “Wow. You’re certainly Mr. Spontaneous, aren’t you?”
“I told you. I don’t like surprises. I like to know what’s going to happen when I can.”
“All right. So walk me through one of Cruz Sorensen’s signature dates.”
He ignored her, typing a few sentences on the screen instead.
“What, is it a secret? Proprietary information? Come on. Humor me. I have no music or other entertainment. So you have to give me something.”
“All right. For a first date, I usually try to determine what the woman’s interests are and tailor the evening accordingly. For example, Becca is a dental hygienist who I happened to know enjoyed funny movies and—”
“Dental hygienist?” she interrupted, unable to resist. “Don’t tell me. Did you actually ask her out while she was digging in your mouth? Is that how you met her?”
“—and flowers.” He finished. “And yes. I met her at the dentist on my six-month visit.”
“Romantic.” She chortled. “Does that mean you’re going to have to find a new dentist, now that you’ve called it off?”
His fingers paused over the keyboard. Probably picturing a rabid Becca gripping sharp metal tools as she told him to open up. Ha.
“All right. So back to the date. Becca—and every other human on the planet—likes comedies and flowers. So what?”
“For our first date, I took her to a comedy club and then made her dinner and dessert at my place.” The smug smile on his lips told her dessert was likely a euphemism, and she rolled her eyes. What a guy. “Our second date, we went to an outdoor showing of a Sundance flick up at Red Butte Gardens. She was impressed with both choices.”
Payton had to give him points. Those did sound pretty good. Better than the old dinner and a movie option—not that she didn’t love that too. But there was something to say about originality. “Okay. What about me? Based on what you know of me, where would you take me for a first date?”