Even getting out of the car the next morning, business armor in the form of a sleek-fitting pair of slacks and a dark blue button-up shirt, she heard his words playing through her head. They’d sounded like a double entendre. Like he’d disregarded the previous portion of the conversation where she’d said she wouldn’t sleep with him. Smug-ass Spaniard. She tightened her hold on her laptop bag and chanced a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking sexier than he ever had, at least to her, in a navy suit, his dark hair left slightly disheveled, as if theirs was a reconciliation made in the bedroom. He paused in front of the heavy glass door of the tall, modern building and held it open for her, his dark eyes never leaving hers. She made eye contact as she walked in. She wasn’t about to let him intimidate her. Nope. Not going to happen. Her gaze was steely. She was sure of it. And his was … amused. It was the first time she’d seen him amused, really amused, in a way that reminded her of the old Eduardo, since he’d hijacked a limo and disrupted her wedding.
