Dylan shrugged. “Why not? You are. Though you’d deny it to the end. You’ve always been a terrible liar.”
Her cheeks tinged with temper. Excitement heated his veins and roared in his blood. What was it about this woman that made arguing so much damn fun? It was better than going to the gym or closing a big deal. “Because it was none of your business!” She moaned and paced the floor. “This is terrible. A nightmare. I trusted Kate to find me my husband, not some man candy to fool around with.”
He laughed with delight. “I’m man candy, huh? Guess I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“How could they have possibly matched us? This proves their computer system is completely inaccurate. All that time I spent on my questionnaire is wasted. You have none of the qualities I listed. You probably signed up to get laid!”
His reputation in college preceded him, but it had been a decade of change. Somehow, knowing Riley still believed he was the same person bothered him. “I’m looking for my soul mate just like everyone else is. Using a well-known, statistically proven agency to help me find her is a smart business move. I don’t like to waste time.” He studied her face and the slight flush to her cheeks. “Why are you using them? Thought you’d have dating all figured out now. Shouldn’t you be settled with a husband making six figures, two kids, eco-friendly house, and a hypoallergenic dog?”
That got her. She treated him to a withering look, as if he was a bug beneath her feet, and they were off to the races.
God, it felt good.
“Your asinine theory is exactly what I would expect from a man who has Peter Pan syndrome and never looked beyond a doubleD cup to amuse himself.”
“Darlin’, I never discriminate,” he drawled. “B’s and C’s are just fine.”
“I’m not your darlin’.” She mocked his fake drawl with a syrupy sarcasm he adored. The woman didn’t give him an inch. He loved it.
“Okay, sweetheart.”
She let out an aggravated breath. “I get it. Kate does the hard work trying to find you an actual intelligent woman to be your life partner, while you continue screwing around with your little playboy bunnies. Quite ingenious. You were always good at pawning off the labor to others.”
He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Are you still steaming over the A I received in Marketing 101? A B is perfectly acceptable, Riley. Get over it.”
She shimmered with rage, clenching her fists. Dylan bet she was barely holding back a stomp of her feet. “Everyone knows you got Tyler to do that for you! He had a bad case of hero worship and would’ve done anything you asked. You cheated, I know you did.”
“No, I didn’t. Besides, you were such a teacher’s pet and up their ass all the time, it’s no big secret why the class resented you. Wrecking the curves, volunteering for extra projects—who does that?”
“Not you, that’s for sure! But of course, I had to work for a living. You didn’t give a crap, because you were able to step into your father’s conglomerate with a starting salary of a million frikkin’ dollars because of your last name.”
Ouch. The hit hurt, but he didn’t blame her. That was the way it looked to everyone, and very few knew how hard he had to work for his father’s respect and to eventually get to a top level of decision making. He started at the bottom of McCray Technologies and took years to learn the business and build his reputation. “You’re wrong. I didn’t start making a million. Not until my six-week probation was over.”
The air caught and sparked between them, like a live wire plunged underwater. She literally trembled. With the need to hit him? Or something else? How much fun would it be to put all those delicious emotions to better use?
Like slamming her against the wall and fucking her so thoroughly she had nothing left to say.
There wasn’t a woman alive he couldn’t charm or finagle a favor from. Except Riley Fox. Four years in Cornell and she’d busted his balls every chance she got, as if his very presence on campus irritated her. He never realized how much fun it was to needle her until graduation came and she was out of his life.
He still thought about the kiss.
Dylan was surprised at how the memory would surface late at night, right before he slid into sleep.
It started as a joke. He’d gotten an A on his organization theory presentation along with a standing ovation. She got an A-minus and seemed ready to murder him, especially since he’d admitted he wrote his speech that morning. She began razzing him about his whore-like tendencies, which he denied. He, in turn, needled her about her control-freak ways in and out of the bedroom, which she denied. And suddenly, in that empty corner hallway, he got a crazy-ass impulse.