Jonathan took a sniff of his wine before taking a sip of the red liquid. He nodded and set down the glass.
Rachel just stared at him.
"You really are an arrogant prick."
"Why, thank you, Miss Dawes."
"And we're out to dinner. Why are you so formal?"
"Every occasion is a formal occasion."
Jonathan studied her features carefully. She seemed at a loss for words. Good. He was sick of patients babbling incoherently. It had been a long day; silence suited him. For the moment.
She was looking left. She was going to lie. But not with him.