That drew a burst of laughter out of her. “It’s not worth your time anyway. There’s nothing I’ll do drunk that I wouldn’t also do sober. Which if you knew who I was, you’d already know.” Summer tipped back the last of her drink and put the glass down. “Why don’t you guess?”
“Oh,” he said, smirking, “Clever one, aren’t you? I like that, really I do. But seriously, you’re the smart type aren’t you? Not likely to swoon at my Storm Charm, are you?”
He tipped back the champagne glass and placed it gracefully on another waiter’s plate without batting an eyelash.
“Are you looking for someone to swoon? I know how,” she countered. “So far you aren’t impressing me enough for that, though.” The little voice of disappointment tugged on her mental sleeve again, whispering that he didn’t know who she was, and didn’t care, and just wanted someone to tell him how pretty he was.
“Well, I’ll just have to try harder, now won’t I?” he said, giving her a toothy grin at the thought of a challenge. Sure, the girls that were weeping at his feet were nice for his ego – but he always loved the pretty ones who played hard to get. It made him want them more. Masochistic? Maybe. Sue him.
“It might work better if you knew my name,” Summer pointed out, again. “Y’see, /I’m/ only interested in the clever ones, myself. I’m not sure you could keep up with me.” It’s a double play, but he probably wasn’t aware of that — keep up with her mentally, or in flight?
“Come on, Mr Storm. Do try harder. Impress me.”