Losing Control - By Robyn Grady Page 0,12

in my sandbox unless I say so."

Her eyes filled with an emotion that glistened at the same time as it burned. Then her hands fisted an instant before she pushed out of her chair. On her way up, she bumped the table and her glass toppled toward him. Wine hurled through the air, ending up with a splash on his lap. His arms flew out; at the same time his temper spiked and he slid his chair back. Was that an accident or was she deliberately making matters worse?

Still in his seat, Cole gripped his napkin and pressed at the cool alcohol seeping into his trousers. Somehow he managed to keep his voice even.

"I'll assume that was an accident."

"It was." She leaned across the table and flung the wine from his glass, too. "That one, I did mean."
Chapter Five
She shouldn't have done it.

God knows, she ought to have kept her head and tried to contain the smoke rather than flinging more fuel on the fire. But as Taryn stormed out through the five-star restaurant, half-aware of curious patrons' heads turning, that more volatile side of her nature was glad she'd let Cole Hunter know precisely what she'd thought. Sandbox, indeed!

He was lucky a glass of wine was all she'd thrown.

Outside, the fresh air hit. Stopping at the bottom of the restaurant's half-dozen stone steps, she glanced around with stinging eyes before the realization struck. Cole had driven her here. To collect her sedan, she'd need to grab a cab back to Hunters.

And tomorrow? Cole had as good as said her idea sucked and she was through. Hopefully Guthrie would have something to say about that. But if she went to the senior Hunter about this situation, she'd feel like a tattletale whining to daddy about her bullying big brother. How she longed to circle her hands around Cole's big tanned neck and squeeze until he turned blue. Lord how she wished she'd never met the man.

She noticed a concerned-looking doorman crossing over at the same time a low, smooth voice wrapped around to startle and disarm her from behind.

"Would you kindly tell me what that was about?"

She swung around and glared into Cole Hunter's flashing green eyes. She hated that her voice was shaky.

"Kindly leave me alone."

"You came with me - "

"And I'll leave without you." She directed her next words to the fidgety doorman. "Can you organize a cab, please?"

Waving a hand, Cole sent the poor doorman back to his corner. "I'll drive you to the station, or home, if you like."

"I'd prefer you didn't."

"I'd prefer that I did."

"So you can goad me into doing something else I might regret?"

He stepped closer until his shadow consumed her and his lidded gaze dropped to her lips. "And just what is it you're afraid you'll do?"

When his eyes met hers again, she felt the stakes between them change and swell. Was it her imagination or had he just propositioned her?

She ought to be outraged. She should want to slap his face. But the heat racing over her skin, snatching her breath and warming her insides, suddenly felt less like anger and a whole lot more like anticipation.

She croaked out, "I never asked to come here tonight."

"No. You were only jumping around like a Christmas puppy, wanting me to see your idea right away."

"You said you wanted to see it."

"When it was good and cooked."

She hitched her carryall strap higher on her shoulder. "Admit it. You never had any intention of giving me a chance."

"Whoa. Don't put this back on me."

"No. I should be overjoyed with needing to jump through your hoops after I've already landed the job."

He blinked at that then absently readjusted the platinum watchband on his wrist. "I'm yet to speak to my father about signing you without consulting me first."

"Perhaps you should have done that before putting me through that charade."

"Sorry for doing you a favor."

"Forgive me if I don't shower you with thanks."

A cab rolled up the lantern-lit drive while a valet brought Cole's car around at the same time. Shaking with rage - with hurt and frustration - she made a beeline for the cab with Cole hot on her tail.

That doorman came forward to open the passenger door. With one sharp look, Cole sent him packing again. Then, refocusing, he crossed his arms over that stained damp shirt.

"I'm sorry you can't handle the truth about the premise of your show."

"Your version of the truth," she pointed out.

"Like it or not, mine's the only version that