She took the bagel out of her mouth and stepped back, like she needed more distance. Did she feel it, too? The charge between them?
“What do you mean? How is it different?”
“You clearly don’t like me, and I don’t want to chase you unless you might want to be caught. I’m having a hard time reading you, because your words say you don’t want to be my friend, but I can see the way you look at me. I know women, and I know what you’re thinking when you lean close and hold your breath…because I’m thinking it, too.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, and she trembled, leaning in just like he’d said she would. “So tell me, Shelby, would you ever consider being caught by me, or am I reading the signals wrong?”
“I…” She bit her lip. “Uh…”
“Fair warning. If you say yes, I’ll stop at nothing to have you.” Leaning in, he brought his mouth close to her ear, stopping short of touching her. “Nothing.”
She swayed closer, then stepped back. “I’m not one to ignore a warning like that.”
“So, what’s it going to be?” he asked. “Should I go to hell, or should I take you out to dinner and see how it goes?”
“Something tells me that if I tell you I’m not interested, it’ll only increase your interest in me.” She pursed her lips. “Guys like you love the chase.”
Generally, that was true.
There was nothing wrong with admitting that the chase was most of the fun for him, or in admitting he lost interest once he caught someone. But only if the woman he was chasing wanted to be caught. “Shelby—”
“Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock.”
His heart skipped a beat. “What?”
“You heard me.” She brushed past him, leaving behind her perfume to tease his senses. “Don’t be late.”
He should let it go. Take the date and do what he could with it. But something had him grabbing her arm before she was out of reach. “So you want to go out with me, right?”
“You got the yes,” she said, tipping her head at him and pulling free of his hold, which was easy since he wasn’t exactly trying to hold her captive. “Don’t push it.”
He watched her go with a mixture of emotions. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy, or whether her answer was enough, but he was sure of one thing.
There was a shitload of planning to do for this date.
Bacchanalia would be perfect. He’d get a limo to pick them up, with champagne in the back. Afterward, a show at the Fabulous Fox, followed by drinks at Cypress Street. Everything had to be perfect. He’d been given one chance to win her over.
He was not throwing away his shot.
Chapter Four
She glanced at the clock on her nightstand, licking her lips. She’d been ready to go since eight, but she’d let him in, told him she wasn’t ready yet, and then quickly locked herself in her room. It was now eight-thirty. She’d left him waiting for thirty minutes.
Time to go out.
As she reached for the knob, she took a deep breath, and steadied her nerves. This was all part of her plan. He hated lateness and hated waiting, so…
She’d made him wait.
As a matter of fact, she knew everything he hated. She’d done her research, and she planned on placing a checkmark next to each one of his tics by the end of the night. By the time she finished with him, the last thing he’d be thinking of was a second date with her.
She’d made a mistake in basically challenging him to want her the other night, and now she was going to fix it. She was going to make him hate her.
Then he’d move on and leave her alone.
She’d be safe again.
As she pulled the door open, she pasted a smile on her lips. “Eric?”
“Still here,” he said drily, standing. He looked at her, his gaze dipping over her body. Every inch of her tingled, and he hadn’t even moved. But then…he did. He crossed the room, picked up her hand, and raised it to his lips. The whole time he pressed his mouth to her skin, he watched her with an almost possessive light in his eyes. “You look beautiful, Shelby.”
This.
This was why she needed to scare him off.
If she didn’t, she’d let him seduce her, and she’d regret it. If she let him, he’d walk all over her, make her want him, too, and then walk away. Just like George had.
No. Never again.
She’d followed George here to Atlanta. Run away from college. From her family. From everything. She’d left it all behind for him…and he’d left her behind almost instantly. She’d been alone in an unfamiliar city, homeless, and out of a job. As she’d stood on the sidewalk, wiping tears from her cheeks, she realized she had two options. Go home and admit defeat to everyone who told her he was no good, or fight for what she wanted.
So she’d gotten a job waiting tables and worked her way up from ground zero until she could afford to go back to school. Then, once there, she’d done her best to get good grades, make a name for herself, and get a job. She’d succeeded.
All on her own.
She couldn’t let a guy like Eric—a guy like George—ruin all of that. She wouldn’t let him. She tightened her grip on his fingers and forced a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry I kept you waiting for so long. I couldn’t decide which shoes to wear.”
“No need to be sorry,” he said immediately. “I’d wait all night for you. But for what it’s worth…” He glanced at her feet. “I think you made the right choice.”
That was the perfect answer.
Damn him.
“Thank you.” She picked up her purse. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
He patted his pockets and turned around to pick up his jacket. His muscles flexed under his shirt, something the fabric did nothing to hide. He wore a gray suit, and the pants hugged his rear. And when he turned around…sweet baby Jesus.
It hugged other things, too.
Things she’d been without for over two years now.
He faced her and froze. He stared at her again, taking in her red dress, and the heels she’d carefully put on earlier. She never wore heels. Or tight dresses. But tonight…
What was she doing?
This was a horrible idea.
“Christ, Shelby, you’re beautiful.” He ran his knuckles down her bare arm, leaving behind a tingling sensation that quickly turned into red-hot need. His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer, reading her reaction to him like an open book and clearly liking what he saw. “I want to kiss you. Right here. Right now.”
Her stomach tightened in response, and she pressed a hand to it as her breath quickened. It didn’t help. Nothing would. Nothing except…him. He seemed unaware of her internal struggle as he rested a hand on her lower back. His touch burned through the fabric, scorching her skin, and he stepped closer. His cologne teased her nose, and she breathed it in, swaying closer.
That was all it took.
He lowered his face, his mouth an inch from hers as he—
No. No, no, no, no.
“Can I have a second, please?” she blurted as she sidestepped him.
He frowned, letting go of her instantly, his forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Yes, of course.”
She bolted into the bathroom, closing the door and taking deep breaths. The room spun, and all she could think, all she could feel, was his hand on her, and her reaction to it.
This was a bad idea.
Horrible.
Yet, if she didn’t see this through, if she didn’t show him she was the wrong girl for him in the most obvious way possible, then he’d keep throwing those heated stares her way, like he had today in court, and he’d haunt her forever.
Eventually, if he kept staring at her like he was starving and she was his next meal, she’d give in and let him gobble her up. She couldn’t let that happen.
This had to end tonight.
“Shelby?” he called out, knocking lightly on the door. “Look, if you changed your mind, we can just cancel the date and—”
She op
ened the door, meeting his eyes. “I didn’t change my mind. I just”—needed a second to breathe—“had to powder my nose again. My makeup was uneven.”
He eyed her suspiciously but stepped aside so she could come out. “If you’re sure. I’d never want you to think you had to go out with me. If you’re not interested, then I’ll go home. No harm done. I’ll leave you alone.”
But he wouldn’t. Not really.
She had to make him not want her anymore.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m starving.” She walked past him, grabbed her jacket, and turned to face him with her spine stiff and her head on straight again. No more swooning or thinking about how good he’d taste. She had a job to do, and she had every intention of seeing it through. “Let’s go eat some food.”
He led her outside, and she searched the street for a cab. As she lifted her arm, he pulled it down gently by the wrist. “No need for that. I secured a ride for us.”
She blinked, following him without a word as he led her to a limo that looked like it housed the President of the United States instead of Eric Hamilton and Shelby Jefferson.
A driver opened the back door for them, bowing at Eric. “Sir.”
“Jacob.” Eric smiled at the man, clapping him on the back. Jacob had dark skin, black hair, brown eyes, and was easily a few inches over six feet. He was almost as tall as Eric. “How’d Jessica’s game go?”
Jacob’s smile widened, showing white teeth. “Excellent, sir. She scored twenty points.”
“You wait. Those colleges will be knocking on your door someday, begging you to send her to their school.”
“I hope so, sir.” Jacob tipped his hat in respect. “I hope so.”
Eric turned back to Shelby, who had been quietly watching this whole exchange. He seemed so friendly. So very…open. Not what she’d been expecting at all. “After you, Shelby.”
Shelby took a deep breath and slid into the limo, taking in the purple rope lights that lit up the interior. She loved purple. It was her favorite color. The seats were black leather, softer than any leather couch she’d ever owned, and music played in the background.
Classical.
Something told her that this was his thing.
He wooed women on expensive dates, plied them with champagne—which was more than likely in this limo somewhere—and then seduced them into his bed. He probably had a perfect track record because, well, look at him. He was handsome, muscular, quick witted, and rich.
Most women probably ate that up.
She wasn’t most women.
Knowing he probably did this with all his dates, played the same moves and did the same things, only made that tightness in her breath ease a little bit more. She could do this.
She could scare him off.
“Thank you, Jacob.” Eric slid in beside her, and the driver closed the door behind him. He shot her an easy smile, and adjusted himself on the seat. “Jacob’s daughter plays basketball. He’s a single father, and he never misses a game. That’s why it was good you were a little late. I texted him and told him to stay and watch the rest of the game before coming over.”
“That’s…nice.” Ugh. It really was nice. And obliging. And unselfish. All things she hadn’t associated with him after he ignored her existence for almost six months straight. “Do you know him well, then?”
“Well enough. He’d been with my family for years.” He lifted a shoulder. “Even if I didn’t, I’d do the same thing. I try to make life as easy as possible on people. It’s the thoughtful thing to do, right?”
He was thoughtful toward others? Since when?
“Right.” She adjusted her dress around her legs, smoothing it. He watched. “So, let me get this straight. You have a driver you can call, whenever you want him, and he just shows up with a limo?”
“My family does, yes.” He offered her a smile. “I don’t usually bother him, and prefer to drive myself, but I wanted to be free to share a few drinks with you tonight. Speaking of which…” He opened a fridge she hadn’t even seen, and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “Thirsty?”
She choked on a laugh.
She’d been right about the champagne.
“Sure.” She watched him pour. “Why do you live in the apartment building?”
He frowned, finished filling her glass halfway, and handed it over. “What do you mean?”
“You’re obviously quite…comfortable.” She gestured at him and took her glass. “What I mean to say is that you clearly have money. Lots of it. So why live in a building where someone like me can afford a place, instead of living in a bigger, nicer place uptown?”
After filling up his glass, he leaned back. “Because I like to earn what I have. Yes, I could go to my parents, ask them for a house, and they would buy it for me. That’s the kind of parents they are, and they have the money to do so. But that’s not the kind of son I am. I live in our building because I’ve been saving up money, and I’ve been waiting to make junior partner before moving into my own place.”
She lifted the glass to her lips, taking a small sip. She didn’t usually like champagne, but maybe she’d been drinking the wrong stuff. This was delicious. She took another sip. “Didn’t you just make junior partner, though?”
“How did you know that?” he asked, his voice colored with surprise.
“I pay attention.” She gave him the side-eye. “Unlike other people I know, when I work with someone, and live in the same building as them, I try to learn who they are.”
His cheeks turned red. “Shelby—”
“I’m just teasing.” She offered him a tight smile, squeezing his hand for a second. “So, if you’re all partnered up now, does that mean you’re buying a house soon?”
“I haven’t found one yet, but once I do…” He saluted her with his glass. “Then I’ll buy my home.”
She wanted to dislike him for that.
For having himself together like that.
God, some weeks she was lucky if she had enough in her account for groceries. But the way he’d explained it, and the fact that he refused to live off his parents’ money, made her like him even more. “What do your parents do?”
“Dad’s a judge in a small town. Mom’s a doctor.” He finished off his champagne and set his empty glass aside. “There are whispers we’re descendants of Alexander Hamilton, but we can’t prove it through the family tree yet. Too much was lost in the civil war.”
“I…” She swallowed. “Wow.”
He pushed his hair back, watching her as she took a sip of her drink. “How about you? Are you related to Thomas Jefferson?”
She choked on her champagne, covering her mouth. When she managed to swallow it and not die in the process, she waved a hand in front of her face, gasping for breath. “Oh my God. That’s a good one.”
His lips quirked. “It wasn’t meant to be a joke.”
“Well, it was.” She set her drink down, half finished. “My parents aren’t even remotely like yours. They live in a small town in Tennessee, and they’re definitely not related to a past president. In fact, my Dad is new to the country. He came over from England during college and fell in love with my mom. He’s a professor at the University of Tennessee, and she’s the manager of a tiny bank that’s barely a blip on the radar of banks.”
“They sound nice,” he said.
And he meant it.
She could see the sincerity in his eyes.
“They are.”
“What brought you here to Atlanta, then?” he asked, leaning in, watching her like he actually cared about the answer. “Why not stay in Tennessee with your nice parents?”
“A guy brought me here,” she answered honestly, because why the heck not? There was no reason to hide her stupidity from him. “And then he promptly left me.”
He frowned. “Then he’s a fool.”
She shrugged. “The way I see it, I’m the fool, not him.”
“Then we’ll have to agree to disagree, because any man that has
you and lets you go is a damn idiot in my book.” He rested a hand on her knee. “Why not go home?”
“Because I refused to lose.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t like losing.”
“Neither do I.” He locked eyes with her. There was an energy, a bolt of something, between them, and it was terrifying and electrifying, all at once. “Shelby…”
She swallowed, saying nothing.
This date wasn’t going the way she planned. He was, indeed, showing her that he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. And that wasn’t a good thing.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d start liking him…
And she’d forget to make him dislike her.
Chapter Five
Shelby squinted at the menu, pulling it closer to her face, and made a contemplating sound as she read it. She’d been doing this for five minutes now, after doing the same with her cocktail menu, and the beer menu, too, before finally asking for a peach martini with house vodka. All night long, she’d been slow to answer, slower to choose, and even slower to commit to anything.
If she were anyone else, it would have driven him fucking insane.
Because she was her, it was endearing instead.
He wasn’t sure what to think about that.
She glanced up at him through her dark, thick lashes, and gave him a half smile. “I’m sorry I’m taking so long. It’s just really hard for me to decide, you know?”
“Take your time. I’m in no rush.” Though they would be missing their show. Not a huge deal, but he’d scored box seats, and now they’d go to waste. He didn’t like wasting things. If it wouldn’t be rude, he’d pull his phone out and forward the tickets to his sister and Brett. They lived in the city, too, and could easily use them. “The duck is delicious.”
“I haven’t gotten that far.” She glanced up at him, setting the menu on the table. “I’m still deciding on my first course. There are so many options.”
He glanced down at the menu. There were seven. “I hear the lobster is delectable, too.”
Romancing the Bachelor (A Hamilton Family Series) Page 3
