Stopping at the punch bowl, he grabbed a cup of Martin’s special brew—he’d seen that she was gulping hers down mighty fast. Pasting on his most charming smile, he approached her chair with his back to the crowd, placing the two of them in a semiprivate bubble.
“How are you feeling, Sage?”
Her head whipped up and her eyes went left to right as if searching for an escape route. Not the reaction he’d been hoping for, but he’d soon have her changing her tune.
“Um . . . fine,” she replied, refusing to meet his eyes. “I need to find my grandma.” She stood, which put her only inches away from him. He could have backed up a bit to give her room, but he chose not to.
“I’m glad to hear you aren’t suffering after the wreck,” he said, just in case she’d somehow forgotten he’d been the one to save her. He was a hero—she should give him a break for not immediately remembering her. After all, he’d seen a lot of faces over the years. He stretched a hand out and ran it along her cheek, where only the barest trace of a bruise remained. She jerked away from him as if he’d just hit her.
“I need to go.”
“Let’s sit and chat. Your grandmother is in good hands. I just saw her heading to the dance floor with Dr. Thompson.”
“I don’t want to sit and chat.” She spoke between gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you after the wreck, Sage. It’s been a long time,” he said as his eyes caressed her body. “And you’ve certainly changed.” There. That should clear everything right up. After all, he’d apologized. That was gold in his book, because he didn’t say he was sorry very often.
She stared at him incredulously, further surprising him. Look, he was letting her know that he liked what he was looking at. He had no doubt that any other woman he gave his patented look to would be fluttering her eyelashes about now.
Not Sage.
“Seriously, Spence? Does that look really work on women? You just bat your pretty green eyes and they fall right in line with whatever you want?” The words came out like honey, but he was searching for the angry bees that were about to sting him.
“What has got you so pissed off? Just because I didn’t recognize you? Sorry about that, but it’s been a while. I’m just trying to . . . reconnect.” He was beginning to feel irritation to match hers—her behavior was incredibly rude. This was his home—well, his dad’s house—and she was a guest. She should be a little more polite.
“You are unbelievable. You walk over here, expecting what exactly I don’t know, and then get offended that I’m not charmed by you. I haven’t fallen for your charm since I was a pathetic kid, so you’re wasting your time. Why don’t you go dance with Cindy? It looks to me like her claws have come out and she’s ready to sink them into some unsuspecting man—or in your case, a suspecting one. The two of you seem to be searching for the same thing tonight.”
She tried to push past him, but his free hand shot out and he grabbed her arm.
“How about a dance?”
“Do you never give up? Is this because your ego is bruised? Sorry, but I don’t want to hang out. Find some simpering female who wants your company.”
“Did I personally offend you, or are you just one of those man-hating women?”
She stared at him with an open jaw for a moment and then closed her eyes for the briefest second before opening them again and locking their gazes. “I once had a crush on you. It’s long past. I don’t associate with men who think dating and bedding a woman are the same thing. I also don’t date men who engage in adding notches to their bedpost as a competitive sport. So tell me, Spence. Where do you expect this flirtation to go?”
“Whoa, slow down,” he said with a laugh. “I’m just trying to get to know you.” He was charming, dammit. Why wasn’t she taking the bait?
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought maybe you were just hoping to get me into your bed,” she said with a knowing look.
“Well, if we hit it off . . .” He quickly found out that wasn’t a wise thing to say.
“We won’t. Trust me,” she said, her expression pure ice, before she pushed