“So?”
“So who still says that?”
“Me.” She smiled then, and it went straight to his dick, hardening him. “I’m bringing it back in style.”
He smiled faintly at that. “Thought I was a dickhead.”
“You’re both. A dickhead and a douche canoe.”
“That’s rather impressive.”
“Not really.” She took a drink of her wine.
He watched her run her finger along the stem of the wineglass and found himself oddly jealous of the wineglass. He wanted her to touch him like that, but considering the fact she most likely hated him, that wasn’t going to happen . . . then again, she’d felt him the morning in her apartment, and he would swear that he saw arousal in her eyes and in her shallow, short breaths.
“I think . . . I think I should apologize to you,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers.
“For what?” she asked, taking another sip of her wine.
He felt his dick harden when her tongue darted out, catching a droplet of wine on her lower lip. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Is the sky blue? Yeah.” She smiled tightly. “Because when you said ‘apologize,’ it sounded like you were choking.”
“It did not.”
“Choking on your arrogance,” she added.
“Okay. I acted like a dick.”
“Which time? In my apartment when you insulted my interior design or when you suggested that I had ulterior motives for giving you flowers at the cemetery?”
He opened his mouth, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything, because apparently Rosie was not done.
“Or when you insinuated that I was out to do something nefarious to your family just because I introduced my friend to a guy?” She stepped toward him, lowering her glass, and for a second he thought she might throw the contents at him. “Or are you apologizing for making me move my car and feel completely unwelcome while visiting my friend? Wait. There’s more. Are you apologizing for saying that the mere idea of having sex with me was laughable?”
He was learning Rosie had a remarkable memory. “Yes. I am apologizing for all of that. I’m . . . sorry.”
She tilted her head. “You could not sound less genuine if you tried.”
“It was genuine.” And that was—well, it was true. Maybe he’d misread Rosie? Maybe he was making her guilty by association? He wasn’t sure, but he did . . . feel guilt, and he didn’t feel guilt about a lot of things. “I was a dick to you.”
“Yeah, you were, but you can’t undick yourself.”
He blinked. “Undick myself?”
A giggle snuck out of her, and he didn’t even fight it. Didn’t hesitate. He grinned in response to the sound, surprising himself.
“Yeah, undick yourself.” She finished off her wine and then lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Anything is possible when I put effort into it.”
She snorted.
He tipped his head back against the door. “So you don’t accept my apology?”
“Not really. Words are meaningless. Actions are everything.”
“That I will agree with.” He raised his glass to her and then finished it off, welcoming the bite of bourbon. “You’re a mystery to me, and that’s . . . different,” he admitted, setting his glass on the dresser. “I could find out everything I ever wanted to know about you by making a single phone call, and yet, I haven’t. That alone is a mystery.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and then said, “Okay. I don’t even know where to start with all that, so I will just go with wow, that would be a huge violation of privacy.”
“It would be.”
Rosie stared at him for a moment. “And that’s all you have to say about that?”
“It is,” he replied, straightening and pulling away from the door. “But I haven’t done it.”
“Do you think you deserve a gold star by your name for not being a stalker?”
It happened again. The smile he couldn’t stop and didn’t even try to. “I think so.”
“Wow.” Rosie laughed, and it wasn’t bitter or cold sounding. “You are . . . something else.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Of course you would.” She lifted a shoulder. “Well, if you did make that creepy phone call, you’re not going to find out anything interesting. I’ve lived a pretty boring life.”
“Now, that’s a lie,” he murmured, taking a step toward her. “I doubt there’s a single thing about you that’s boring.”
Her gaze met his and a long moment passed before she said, “Do you really want to know what I was doing up here?”
His interest was more than piqued. “I do.”
She watched him for a second longer and then turned, walking back to the nightstand to place her glass there. His gaze drifted over her, lingering on the sway of her lips.
Christ.
Was his mouth watering? Because it felt like that.
Rosie faced him. She was opening her clutch. “This room is haunted.”
Dev opened his mouth and then snapped it shut.
“Legend says that a bride was murdered by a jealous lover in this room, the night before her wedding,” she continued, pulling out a slim black rectangular object. “Supposedly, you can pick up EVPs of her voice. That’s why I came up here.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. “EVP?”
“Yes. Electronic—”
“I know what it means.” He walked over to where she stood beside the bed. “Did you find anything?”
She didn’t answer immediately. “No. You interrupted me. But you know what an EVP is?”
He nodded as he reached his hand out. “May I?”
She hesitated for a moment and then handed it over. Their fingers brushed as he picked up the simple black recorder. Turning it over, he checked to see if it was turned off. It was, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been on this entire time.
God, even he knew he sounded paranoid.
Dev shook the thought out of his head as he handed the recorder back to Rosie. When she slipped it back into her clutch, he asked, “You’re not going to try to . . . investigate the room now?”
She pinned him with a droll look. “With you in the room? Yeah, I’d rather get a lobotomy.”
“That’s excessive.”
Closing the clutch, she placed it on the bed, and he liked that, because it meant she wasn’t planning to leave right then. He shouldn’t like that, because he needed to be downstairs at some point, when they started the auction.
“You don’t believe in ghosts,” she said, glancing to the right of them. Their reflection was in the standing mirror. “So, having you here would make the whole endeavor not only pointless but also painful.”
Dev didn’t know why he said what he said next, giving voice to words he never said to even his brothers, but tonight . . . yeah, tonight was different. “I never said I didn’t believe in ghosts.”
Her eyes widened behind the mask. “I’m pretty sure you did.”
He shook his head as he stared down at her. “I don’t believe in a lot of what ghost hunters do or psychics and that kind of stuff. I think most of them are scammers or delusional, but I never said I didn’t believe. There is just a lot of crap and very little truth when it comes to that kind of stuff.”
She looked like she didn’t know what to say at first and then she asked a question she’d asked before. “Is your house haunted, Devlin?”
He dragged his teeth along his lip, considering how he could answer the question. “Things . . . things have a way of happening there. Stuff that cannot be easily explained.”
Excitement sparked in those lovely eyes. “Like what kind of stuff?”
“Unexplained noises. Things move without anyone interacting with them.” He sat on the high bed and stretched his legs out. “I’ve seen . . .”
She sat next to him, her posture stiff due to the corset. “Seen what?”