Pursued (The Diamond Tycoons 2) Read Online Free PDF

he grabbed the bottle of maple syrup and drizzled it over the top of her pancakes. Then he cut into them and lifted a forkful to her mouth.
    He waited patiently for a few seconds, but when she just looked at him instead of taking the proffered bite, he rolled his eyes. “
My
pancakes don’t taste good cold. Trust me.”
    Trust him.
The idea was so ludicrous that she nearly laughed out loud. Only the knowledge that he definitely wouldn’t get the joke kept her from making one wisecrack or another. But there was no way in hell she was
ever
going to trust
him
. Mr. Perfect. No, thank you. Been there, done that, still had the T-shirt as a not-so-pleasant memento.
    Not that she was bitter or anything. Or sexist.
    Because it wasn’t that she didn’t trust men. It was that she didn’t trust
anybody
. Not when life had taught her over and over
and over
again that she couldn’t count on anyone or anything. If she needed something, she could count on only herself to make it happen. Anyone else would just let her down.
    Maybe it wasn’t a great philosophy, and maybe—just maybe—it
was
a touch nihilistic. But it was
her
philosophy. She’d lived by it most of her life, and while it hadn’t gotten her much—yet—it also hadn’t cost her much since she’d adopted it. And in her mind, that was a win.
    And yet, even understanding all that, she—inexplicably—leaned forward and let Nic feed her the bite of pancake. She had no idea why she did it, but it certainly wasn’t because doing so made him look incredibly happy. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
    That was her story, and like her philosophy, she was sticking to it.
    Which was why it was so strange when, after she finished chewing, Nic simply handed her the fork and went back to what he was doing without so much as a backward glance. Was she the only one affected by this strange night of theirs?
    It was a definite possibility, she told herself. He could totally be the kind of guy who picked up a different one-night stand at every party he went to. Which would mean that tonight—hot sex and cool banter and delicious pancakes—could be standard operating procedure for him. Which was fine, she told herself, despite the sinking feeling in her stomach. One-night stands weren’t SOP for her—far from it—but that was what she’d expected, what she’d wanted, when she’d come home with him. Deciding in the middle of it that she wanted something more wasn’t okay, no matter how much pleasure he gave her or how much she enjoyed sitting here, teasing him.
    “So, favorite movie is off the table,” he said, after he poured another round of pancakes onto the griddle. “How about favorite song?”
    She forked up another bite of pancakes under his watchful eye, took her time chewing it. “What’s with all the questions?” she asked after she finally swallowed it.
    “What’s with all the evasive answers?” he countered.
    “I asked you first.”
    “Actually, if you think about it, I asked you first. About your favorite song. And I’m still waiting.”
    “You are a persistent one,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
    “I believe the word you’re looking for is
charming
.” He crossed to the fridge, took out a bottle of champagne and a quart of fresh-squeezed orange juice. “
Debonair
. Maybe even…
sexy
?”
    He wiggled his brows at her then, and it took every ounce of concentration she had not to burst out laughing. “Sexy, hmm. Maybe. And here I was thinking
humble
.”
    “Well, obviously. Being humble is what PR professionals the world over are known for.”
    “Is that what you are?” she asked, intrigued by the rare glimpse into his real life. “A public relations guy?” It would explain the gorgeous house and even more gorgeous artisan decorating scheme.
    He shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”
    “That isn’t an answer.”
    He faked a surprised look as he slid a mimosa in front of her. “You don’t actually think you’re the only one