“What are you doing here, Mr. Tucker?”
I winced. “FYI: I really hate it when people call me Mr. Tucker. Don’t waste your time patronizing me.”
Winnie came to a stop behind Ellen, casting her a glance of disapproval before she looked back at me and folded her arms across her chest. “What would you prefer I called you? Mr. Fuc—”
“Don’t go there.”
“No. Perhaps I shouldn’t. I hear the last guy who called you fucker ended up dead.”
“Well, that sounds like a lady of the law is accusing me of a crime I don’t know about there, Miss Winnie.”
“I really hate it when people call me Miss Winnie. I find it… kinda patronizing,” she countered, tilting her head as she studied me.
“I like you.” I laughed, leaning over my arms even farther, making sure my biceps popped from beneath my black T-shirt. Her eyes drifted down them before she made her smile tighter, blinked, and forced herself to look up at my face again. The mistake she made then was swallowing and trying to hide it. Body language was my forte, and I loved nothing more than studying someone when I had nothing left to lose. “You could be real pretty if you weren’t such a bitch.”
Ellen gasped, her eyes rising to mine briefly before she clamped a delicate hand over her mouth and looked down again. Winnie’s eyes just narrowed, and her nostrils flared, but she tried to keep that smile in place.
“Sorry,” I whispered mischievously, scrunching my nose up for effect.
“What do you want,Mr. Tucker?”
“I want my man.”
“So do I.”
I raised a brow. “He’s a good-looking guy. Can’t say I blame you.”
Heat rose in Winnie’s cheeks, and she shuffled on her feet, taking a quick glance around as if she was making sure nobody had heard what I’d said.
Wait a minute…
Did she…?
Fuck, I’d thrown a flippant comment around, and somehow it had landed on target.
Winnie corrected herself quickly, and I wasn’t sure anyone else would have seen her reaction unless they’d been studying her, too, but I’d seen it, and I was sure as shit going to press on that tender spot over and over again until she gave me what I wanted.
“Winnie, you might want to do something about that.” I pointed to her face.
“Excuse me?” She scowled.
“The heat in your cheeks. It’s screaming desire. I don’t know if that’s for me, or for my man Jedd, but…” I tsked, leaned in, and whispered. “I’m guessing it’s Jedd, and that’s really why you’re keeping him here.”
“You need to leave,” she pushed out, straightening her shoulders.
“I will. I’ll leave as soon as I’ve got Jedd.”
“He isn’t going anywhere tonight. He’s here of his own free will, Tucker. He has no desire to leave yet.”
If she could read body language, too, then she probably saw the subtle flinch of my eyes at that one. He doesn’t want to leave? Fuck that.
“I guess I’ll be staying here for the night then.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You either let me speak to him right this fucking second or be prepared for me to sit over there onthose rock-hard chairs all day and night long, just to piss you off.”
Winnie stared at me, her eyes on fire as she struggled to keep her hatred under control. She knew I’d been a bad guy. She knew what I was capable of. She probably had proof of shit I’d done and gotten away with over the years, too, but damn, was she having a hard time pinning something on me that would stick in the here and now.