Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (6 page)

I sputter, and the wine I’m about to swallow sprays across the table, barely missing Savage’s smug face. He settles back into his seat, laughing as I cough and try to regain some semblance of control.

“You all right?” he asks, his right eyebrow quirking up in a way that makes me want to climb across the table to ride him and smack him simultaneously.

Shit. This is definitely not what I was expecting when I got his dinner invitation.

I was sure he was baiting me just to get me here so he could convince me to leave him and the club alone. And maybe to tempt me more with his sinful smile and come-hither bedroom eyes.

“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat one last time and taking a sip of water as nonchalantly and confidently as I can. “I’m just fine.”

Lie.

I am most definitely
not
fine. How could I possibly be fine while looking at this man? His arms bulge under his fitted, perfectly-tailored suit jacket, and I suck my bottom lip under my teeth to keep from moaning. A handsome, muscular man in a well-fitted suit is fucking porn for me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.”

Yeah, right.

I roll my eyes at him and take another drink of my wine. “Bullshit, that’s exactly what you meant to do. I bet you get a real kick out of fucking with women like that.”

He chuckles and takes another drink of his wine. “No,” he says with a smirk, “only you. And I wasn’t fucking with you. I’m dead serious. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. You got under my skin.”

He says the last part with such sincerity, I’m forced to rein in my smartass comeback.

Is this guy for real?

I study his face as he holds my gaze. His strong jaw is covered in dark stubble, setting off his cerulean blue eyes, and his lightly tanned skin gives him an almost exotic look. He must have women throwing themselves at his feet, especially in a club like his. He probably fucks a new girl every day of the week.

PUSSY PEDDLER! Don’t forget who he is and what he does!

Just because Nora defended him doesn’t mean I have to forget his profession.

“While I appreciate the compliment, Savage, I have to be honest when I tell you I’m not the least bit surprised to hear your motive for asking me here.”

He looks surprised. “What motive is that?”

I scoff and roll my eyes at him. “To fuck me.”

He bursts out laughing, throwing his head back while his whole body shakes. When he looks at me again, his eyes twinkle with amusement. I have to bite my lip again to stop the smile that tries to creep out. He’s so damn sexy when he laughs like that, and it goes straight to my clit.

“Danika, I did not invite you here to try to fuck you. You asked me why I had been thinking about you, and I answered you, truthfully. I’ll always do my best to respond honestly to everything you ask, but that doesn’t mean my motives in inviting you here were not pure.”

“Pure? I doubt you know the meaning of the word.” He flinches slightly at my retort, and I cringe inwardly.

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh.

He searches my face, contemplating something before he replies.

“Did you speak with your sister?”

Okay, hadn’t expected him to go there after I just insulted him…again.

“Yeah, actually, she showed up at my apartment the day after I came to see you.”

“You two talked?”

I nod, and he watches me, waiting for me to elaborate.

“Look, she told me she spoke with you, so thank you for getting her to come talk to me.”

Being beholden to him for anything irks me, but after chasing Nora for weeks, he was the one who finally got her to actually stop avoiding me. I have to give him credit for that, at least.

“You’re welcome. I can only imagine how worried you were for her. If I didn’t hear from my sisters for a couple weeks, I would be worried, too.”

“You have sisters?” I hadn’t intended that to come out so coarse, but for some reason, the thought of a strip club owner having sisters seems unthinkable.

He grins and sips his wine. “Yeah, I have three younger sisters and one younger brother.”

“And they know what you do for a living?”

Damn, there I go sounding like a judgmental bitch again.

He doesn’t take the bait, barely reacting to my snide comment. “Yes, they know, and so does my mother.”

I scowl at him. “And they are okay with it?”

Before he can answer, the waiter returns and asks if we’re ready to order. I scramble to open my menu and review it. Glancing up at Savage, I see he doesn’t even bother to open his. He must come here a lot.

“Everything looks so good. What do you recommend?” I ask the waiter.

“If you don’t mind, I would love to order for you,” Savage interjects. “I eat here all the time and I think I know what you might enjoy.”

I eye him skeptically for a moment before closing my menu and handing it to the waiter. Letting him make the decision for me feels like giving in to him somehow and I’ve already done that just by coming here tonight. Still, I have a feeling he may be right about knowing exactly what I want.

“Good, Michael, will both have the
fra diavolo
.”

“Very good, Mr. Hawke,” he says, retrieving Savage’s menu and backing away from the table.

I haven’t looked away from Savage once as I wait for an answer to my last question.

“My family understands that my business is just that, a business. I opened my first bar, Hawkeye’s Pub, after college, and now, eight years later, I have several bars, restaurants, and the club. The club seemed like a logical step a few years back, and I took it. I run it tight and I keep it legit. I don’t involve myself with my girls, and they know they will be gone immediately if I find out anything is going on behind the scenes.”

Doesn’t involve himself with the girls? Does that mean he doesn’t sleep with them? Was Nora right?

The question is on the tip of my tongue but, with some effort, I manage to bite it back. I really need to rein in the bitchiness tonight.

“Well, it certainly sounds like your run the club differently than most, but I still can’t imagine having a son, or a brother, running a strip club. You have to admit, it’s a little seedy.”

He smirks and leans back. “I guess you’re right. I just hope you can put aside what I do for a living and will make up your mind about what kind of man I am based on facts, not prejudices.”

Shit. That was a real chastisement. I must be acting like more of a bitch than I thought.

I drop my gaze to my wine glass momentarily before I look back at him, unwavering.

“I will be the first to admit that I may have misjudged you. After talking with Nora, I know you treat your employees well and everything you told me is true.”

A pleased grin spreads across his face. “And what did you find out when you researched me?”

I try to hide my surprise but sputter momentarily trying to answer him, “Uh, I…what makes you think I researched you?”

“Because I did the same thing, and you’re a reporter. Frankly, I would be disappointed if you hadn’t done some research on the scumbag your sister was shaking her ass and tits for.”

Laughter bubbles up and I cover my mouth with my hand. I watch Savage glance down at my chest and shift in his seat.

He’s uncomfortable. Good. It’s only fair he be in the same position I am.

“I’m sorry I said that,” I say, my face no doubt reddening in my embarrassment. “I did research you, but I couldn’t find very much information. You seem to keep a pretty low profile for someone in your business.”

He grins at my observation but offers no explanation for his mysterious ability to stay out of the papers.

I’ve never seen anything like it. There are articles about his father that mention Savage and his siblings when he was a child—crap, now I remember the sisters being referenced—including quite a few from the weeks following his father’s death in the ring. But, as an adult, other than mentions of the opening of his restaurants and the club and a few other business dealings, there was
nada
. It’s as if he disappeared from public view and intentionally stayed that way.

The need to dig and probe further has been eating away at me since I hit the dead end, but I don’t think it would be appropriate to do that here at dinner. Especially not when I’ve already insulted him many, many times in the few hours we’ve spent together.

Wait, did he say he did research on me?

“You researched me?”

He chuckles and picks up his wine glass, swirling the maroon liquid around and around. I can’t tear my eyes away from his strong hand and long fingers wrapped around the stem.

Fuck. Even his hands are orgasmically beautiful.

Flashes of him doing things—dirty, nasty, sinful things—with those hands race through my mind, and my clit throbs just imagining his touch. I cross my legs under the table, pressing my thighs together as tightly as I can in a vain attempt to ease my need. There’s no doubt in my mind I’m blushing, and Savage’s focus on my cleavage assures me I’m correct.

Arrogant prick knows he’s causing this and is getting off on it.

“Yes, I researched you. I like to know all I can about people who come storming into my office with murder in their eyes.”

“Murder? Oh, come on, I wasn’t that bad!”

He’s such a drama queen!

His eyebrow quirks up and the corner of his mouth moves into a sexy half-smirk. “Weren’t you?”

Was I?

Thinking back, maybe I was a bit overzealous in my advocacy on behalf of Nora, but I never would have hurt him. At least, not without his permission. Just thinking about digging my teeth into the side of his neck and shoulder while he pounds into me has me shifting uncomfortably again and chugging half my glass of water.

I take a cleansing breath before I even bother trying to speak again. “Savage, I’m sorry…”

His smile fades and he leans forward, looking me directly in the eye and holding me captive with his blue gaze. “Danika, stop apologizing. I told you, if I was offended by anything you did or said, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now.”

A flood of relief washes over me.

I nod my understanding but, truthfully, the fact that
nothing
I have said has offended him is a bit of a mind-fuck. It makes me wonder what it would take to actually insult him and how he got such a thick skin.

The fact that he did research on
me
is a little disconcerting, too. It’s not that I have anything to hide, but a man like Savage Hawke knowing things about me, things I didn’t divulge, makes me a little shaky. “So, what did you find out in your digging?”

“Well,” he says, setting down his glass and leaning back into his seat, “your father was a cop and died in the line of duty when you were twelve. Now, it’s just you, Nora, and your mother, who lives in Harahan.”

I bet he even knows our social security numbers.

“Stalker, much?” I ask with a smirk. He grins back, and I wish I had brought an extra thong with me tonight. Sitting in wet panties with a throbbing clit is worse than medieval torture. I would much rather be stretched out on a rack right now than sitting across from Savage practically dripping with need. Sometimes, my libido can be such an inconvenient bitch.

“You graduated with your bachelor’s in journalism from Loyola and almost immediately went to work at the
Times
.”

“All that information is very easy to find. I would have expected a deeper probe from you.”

Savage’s eyes widen slightly and he drops his head back, roaring with laughter. My skin heats, and I bite my tongue to prevent further sexual innuendos from slipping out unbidden.

When he finally recovers, he leans his elbows on the table and locks his gaze with mine. “Oh, Danika, believe me, I always ensure a very deep probing.”