“So, what you're saying, Mr. Jackson, is that you wouldn't take no for an answer?” Selene clarified, staring in narrow-eyed contempt at the greasy-haired specimen who sat across the table from her.
“Why would I?” he shot back, unmoved. His bloodshot blue eyes scanned Selene's slender frame with insulting interest. “I was nice to her. Bought her a drink, didn't I? How was I supposed to know she wasn't interested? She was at a bar.”
“Oh, I don't know,” Selene replied. “Perhaps the fact that she refused the drink, declined to allow you to join her, and left when you sat down anyway?”
“Nah,” he said with a laugh, blowing tobacco-scented breath across the table at Selene. “She was just playing hard to get. It's the chase, you know?”
Not likely, Selene thought, shuddering at the rank stench
