Olivia Gates Bestseller Collection 2012 by Olivia Gates Page A

being a womanizer revolt me? It’s none of my business.”
    One formidable eyebrow shot up. “Really? Interesting.” Then both eyebrows dipped into an ominous line. “And I’m not.”
    “Not what?”
    “A womanizer. I have too many handicaps to be one.”
    “Handicaps?”
    “Fastidiousness, wariness, allergies to pointless pursuits…”
    “Don’t men consider physical gratification the point?”
    “Do you always go around dispensing general condescension on all men, or am I just blessed? And then, you’re counter-asserting that women don’t consider physical gratification of importance? The old paradigm that women want emotion while men want sex?”
    “That paradigm has stood the test of time and the approval of the majority. That’s not to say it applies to everyone.”
    “It sure doesn’t apply to me. And physical gratification comes with a womanful of traits, whims, demands and trouble.”
    “In other words, it comes attached to a sentient being.” His eyes remained steady, as if he was trying to read her mind. She let out a shaky breath. “Phew. The one way to avoid such nuisances is to…rent a companion. And I can’t see you doing that.”
    His eyes turned lethal. “You always had perfect sight.”
    “Then how do you find any women who fulfill your criteria of being a non-imposition? And you think Castaldinians are unreasonable?”
    “My criteria aren’t affecting present and future generations, I can make them as unreasonable as I like. I don’t need to make concessions, either, since feminine wiles no longer work on me.”
    “You mean they once did?”
    “Oh, yes, all the way.”
    Her heart did its best to explode from her ribs.
    He’d—he’d been…in love? All the way? Before or after her? And he was telling her all this…why? Warning her off while pulling her in? Was that what her tormentor was trying to do to her?
    Suddenly he sat forward, thrust a hand into her hair. He let a thick lock sift through his fingers before he groaned, “Not that it doesn’t suit you, it does, even more than your natural hair color did, but what made you dye your hair black?”
     
    Leandro groaned again. He’d swerved from the vulnerabilities he was exposing, groped for the diversion of something that gnawed at his curiosity. And she looked as if he’d slapped her.
    “Don’t you mean why did I stop dyeing my hair blond?”
    He gaped at her. “You’re a natural brunette?”
    “You didn’t realize that? But then it stands to reason.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “You knew nothing about me, apparently.”
    “I knew plenty about you. I bet I know everything.”
    “You’re talking in the biblical sense? How original of you.”
    “I mean in every sense.”
    “Yeah? Okay, let’s test this knowledge. Or are you going to plead memory holes due to the time lapse?”
    “I have the memory of an entire herd of elephants.”
    “And the comparative rampage damage potential.”
    He harrumphed. “I never rampage.”
    “Of course not. You’re too organized and premeditated for that. I should have said ‘incursion.’ That is your MO, whether it’s on a personal or a global level.”
    “By definition, an incursion is hated, resisted. I remember nothing but…approval, encouragement. On a personal level.”
    “You have that effect on the people you take over—the super power of Stockholm syndrome. It took me a year and a half to realize what you did to me.”
    He went totally still. “What did I do to you?”
    She looked at him as if he’d once strangled her cat and didn’t remember it. She finally shook her head, let out a rough chuckle. “You didn’t even realize I dyed my hair.”
    “And that made me…insensitive? Negligent? The hair on your head looked so natural with your tan. Thanks to your grooming habits, there was none anywhere else to give me a clue. What else did I allegedly do to you?”
    She shook her head again. “You exist in a universe starring you, don’t you?