“I dunno. Some girls would insist on being bought a brand-new one.”
“You don’t have a very good view of women, do you?”
“Just going by experience.”
“What kind of girls have you been mixing with?” I think about Sabrina, and go, “Ohhh…”
“Yeah,” he says. “I think you see where I’m coming from now.”
“You don’t think Sabrina would have worn your grandmother’s ring?”
He snorts. “God, no, she would have wanted five carats minimum. Size is everything for women like that.”
“No wonder she had her eye on you then.”
His eyebrows rise. “Have you been watching me in the locker room?”
“I meant your height! Oh my God…”
He grins. “You’re blushing.”
“It’s warm in here.”
“It’s really not.”
I daren’t think about Kingi Davis getting undressed in the locker room or I’ll really be in trouble.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask Sabrina Pearce to marry you just to get the job,” I say tartly to distract him from my hot face. “Surely she would have been a much more believable fiancée, and she’d have killed to play the role.”
“I don’t even want to think about being engaged to Sabrina Pearce,” he says with obvious dislike. “Just the thought brings me out in hives.”
“Fake engaged.”
“Even fake engaged. Still hives.” He gives a theatrical shiver.
“You’d get sex on demand,” I tease. “I thought that would have appealed to you.”
“That might be one rare occasion when I’d turn it down.”
It’s my turn to look amused. “Was she really that bad?”
“You have no idea.”
I grin. “You’re not going to elaborate?”
He tries not to laugh. “It seems ungentlemanly.”
I’m intrigued now, though. “Was she a pillow princess?”
“I don’t necessarily mind that.”
“Oh?”
“I’m happy to pleasure a woman without receiving in return.” His eyes meet mine, hot, amused.
Oh my. That backfired on me big time. I clear my throat. “So… what? Didn’t she talk dirty?”
His eyes flare—oh, he likes that thought. “She didn’t say anything much at all.”