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I’m surprised that’s the first thought to roll through my mind. But then I realize it’s true. I don’t want a woman who will agree to the crazy proposition I’m about to make this one because of the money, or the celebrity that will go with it. I don’t want someone who wants to live in a palace and be waited on hand and foot. Who is easily impressed by things like private jets and jewels. I want someone who will understand what we can do with the money, power, and influence. The good that can come of it all.
I think Abigail is that woman.
And I’m glad she’s not easy to impress. That means when I do, it will be even sweeter.
“Challenge accepted,” I tell her.
Finally, she takes that last step that brings her close enough to dance.
Our hands meet, her other rests on my shoulder, and mine settles on her hip.
And the song switches.
“Come Away With Me”, by Norah Jones floats over the dance floor.
It’s a romantic song for a wedding reception, for sure. It’s also got a three-fourth time signature.
Like a waltz.
I give Abigail a wink. And she laughs.
We dance without speaking for the first two songs.
Then she asks, “Is that two dances?”
I shake my head. “One.”
“But it was two songs.”
“But one long dance.”
The corner of her mouth tips up. “So we have to have a break where we’re apart for a period of time and then come back to the dance floor together?”
My fingers curl into her hips, and I bring her closer. “Technically.”
She swallows. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else.”
“I wasn’t going to let you dance with anyone else.”
Her eyes round slightly, but she doesn’t tell me that’s ridiculous or call me on the possessive tone in my voice.
She seems to move in closer. “I don’t really want to take a break either.”
My body heats, and if she gets any closer, she’s going to feel real evidence of how I’m reacting to her. I’m getting hard just from dancing with her, smelling the scent of lavender floating up from her skin, and her saying things like that.
“If you dance with me the rest of the night, and I get to see you tomorrow, I’ll consider it all even,” I tell her.
She smiles, but she’s shaking her head.
Goddamn it, I want yeses from this woman. She needs to start practicing that word with me.
“Yes, Abigail,” I say, lifting my hand to run my thumb over her jaw. “I want more than just dancing.”
Her pupils dilate, and her breath catches. Her gaze drops to my mouth. But she says, “I’m leaving really early tomorrow. I have to get back to work.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Yes.”
