CHAPTER FIFTEEN
" morning, sunshine," I said when I heard Brooke's voice on the other end of the phone.
"Who is this?"
"Aw, you don't remember me?" I teased. "The tall, dark, and handsome guy who promised you the world?"
"Which one?" she asked feigning boredom. "There were several and after awhile, it got confusing. You're all so alike. Promising worlds and keys to heaven."
"I was the one who was mesmerized by your beautiful blue eyes," I said. "And, I don't know about the rest of them, but you agreed to go on a date with me and gave me your card."
"Oh, you!" she laughed. "Why of course, I remember you! The handsome guy in the Harley boots!"
"You have a good memory," I observed.
"I'm a lawyer," she said. "Or did you forget?"
"No, I didn't forget," I replied. "That's not something I would ever forget. Did you forget that you agreed to go on a date with me?"
"I don't think I did," she said. "But I was more than a little hung over this morning, so I might have. Remind me of what I agreed to last night, would you?"
"Are you always this forgetful?" I asked.
"'I'll have you know that I'm not at all forgetful," she said, obviously bristling at the accusation.
"I'm not accusing you, I'm teasing you, Ms. Raines," I said calmly.
"Well, I'd prefer if you'd call me Brooke," she said in a prickly tone. "And then remind me what your name is."
"I'm Dax," I said. "I did introduce myself last night, I promise."
"I know you did," she sighed in an irritated manner. "I'm just trying to piece together the evening and there are parts that I can't quite remember. One of them is you and I introducing ourselves."
"I'm Dax Malone," I said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"I see."
"What do you see, Brooke?" I asked.
"You hit on me because you need a new lawyer and you thought a drunk girl would give in more easily," she replied.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I said feeling the beginnings of my own irritation.
"It's all over the news, Mr. Malone," she said in a businesslike tone.
"I'd prefer if you'd call me Dax," I mimicked.
"Fine, Dax, it's all over the news about your dead lawyer," she said.
"I didn't know she was dead when you and I were at the bar," I said flatly. "So, no, I was not trolling for a new lawyer. Besides, why on earth would I troll for a lawyer at a bar?"
"I don't know, it seems like maybe drunk lawyers would give in and do the dirty work a little more willingly?" she said.
"That's just mean," I replied. "How would you feel if I asked if you were out trolling for clients in a bar?"
"Not offended, if that's what you're asking," she said.
"Oh really? Well, then I guess we have different ideas of what's offensive," I said.
"Oh please, don't tell me you have delicate sensibilities!" she laughed. I was getting irritated with this woman and I wasn't so sure I wanted to take her out on a date anymore. "Hello?"
"I'm here," I said.
"Dax, are you mad?" she asked in such an open way that I couldn't help but smile.
"Not mad, just kind of irritated," I admitted.
"Why? Don't you like smart women who can challenge you?"
"Oh, that's below the belt, lady," I laughed. "If you had any idea..."
"Of what?"
"All of the people who help me run my business and are in positions of power are strong, smart women," I said a little defensively.
"So, you want a cookie for being a good guy?" she asked. This question pissed me off.
"What is your problem?" I lashed out. "Why do you seem so intent on emasculating me and chopping me off at the knees? Are you a lesbian or something?"
"Oh right, simply because I'm a woman with a brain in her head and who isn't cowed by your macho 'I'm a nice guy' song and dance, you immediately assume I must be a lesbian," she shot back in an extremely irritated tone. "Nice stereotype, buddy. Good job."
"I repeat, what the hell is your problem?" I shouted into the phone. "God, I try to be a nice guy and call the next morning to ask you out to dinner like I said I would and you turn a simple phone call into the Nuremberg Trials!"
"I'm impressed," she said.
"I'm pissed," I replied. A few seconds passed and I asked, "Why are you impressed?"
"That you know what the Nuremberg Trials are," she said.
"Of course, I took history classes," I shot back. "Who the hell doesn't know that?"
"You'd be surprised," she said. I could hear a smile in her voice and that pissed me off even more. I felt like a mouse being played with by a cat that knew what it would do when the game was over.
"So, do you want to go to dinner or what?" I couldn't hide my irritation, but for some reason, I still wanted to take her out.
"Not if you're going to be angry the whole time," she said. "And, not if you can't ask me nicely."
"Jesus, lady, what the hell do you want from me? Blood?" I shouted. "I asked you once very nicely and you turned this into a battle zone. Now, you want me to try it again?"
"Yes," she said.
"Fine," I huffed. I stopped and took a deep breath to calm myself then waited a few seconds and spoke calmly, "Brooke, I would like very much to take you out for a nice dinner tonight. Would you care to go with me?"
"I'd love to," she said happily.
"Wait, what?"
"I told you to ask me nicely, and you did," she said. "So, it was easy to say yes to a nice invitation like that!"
"You are maddening," I said.
"No, I just know what I want," she said. "And, I'm not afraid to say what I think. Maybe it's maddening because so few women do."
"That's entirely possible," I agreed. "But you're still maddening."
"Oh, you like a good challenge," she replied. "Admit it."
"I'll pick you up at eight," I said. "Where would that be?"
She gave me the address and said she'd be looking forward to dinner. I hung up the phone shaking my head. This woman was a piece of work, but she was right about one thing.
I did love a good challenge.