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Chapter 7
♥?♥?♥
Bastian
“YOU WERE WRONG, YOU KNOW,”Bastian said.
Finally he had her attention, he saw with satisfaction. Paula had been acting subdued all afternoon. From the moment he’d showed up at her door, she’d been cool, neutral, and restrained. Somehow she seemed to have turned off an inner light. She conversed dutifully, with no talk-back, no smart-aleckiness, none of the liveliness he associated with her.
It frustrated him.
Till now, he’d been following her lead and keeping the talk impersonal. He reminded himself that the whole point was to have a companion for an unpleasant evening, not to find out this woman’s life story.
But he’d lied shamelessly about her being his only option. Dozens of women were available to him, even on a last-minute basis. He’d picked his neighbor because...well, if he were honest with himself, out of pure, mad longing.
Georgette was typical of the kind of socialites he escorted to these functions.
But back in the elevator, he’d been gripped by a distaste that had almost choked him. The presence of Paula had been like a wash of sunshine. The contrast between the two women was stark.
Georgette had managed to get herself dressed to the nines even drunk and hungover, and had looked coolly polished even as she embarrassed and offended him, while Paula…
Everything about her was refreshing. She was rumpled and sleep starved and sexy and delicious. She said whatever she felt like. And she hadn’t seemed to care one whit what he thought. She was plainly unimpressed by him. It had disturbed him but was also strangely reassuring. She didn’t need drunkenness to deliver honesty.
When she bumped into him exiting the elevator, he’d been assaulted by the fleeting, life-altering thought that with her, he might actually enjoy himself.
It was probably a stupid idea. But now that he’d stopped thinking of her as a stalkerish neighbor, a date/fuck with her seemed harmless, even exciting.
Which was something of a novelty. When was the last time he’d gone on a date purely out of attraction? He couldn’t remember. As a teenager? Had he ever?
Surely at least once.
Maybe with...no, not her. Or with...no, not even then. What about...no, that was business, too.
It felt like he had his father’s words of advice in his teen years permanently seared into his brain:
The first question you’ve got to ask yourself when you see a lovely young lady is will she help the family’s reputation. Then you need to ask yourself, will she distract you from your goals. Never date a woman just for a lark, Sebastian. Your looks and your identity as a Spencer are your biggest assets. Don’t throw them away on someone who won’t be useful to you in the future.
In one stroke, he’d gone against all of the instructions that had dogged him all his life.
He’d asked Paula Raymond out with no thought to the future. He had no idea who she was and he didn’t care.
He did it purely out of self-indulgence, because he liked her. And when she refused, he’d begged, persuaded, and bargained until she agreed. He’d never worked so hard to get a date before in his life.
He’d also taken liberties, but that hadn’t exactly been part of the plan.
And now that he had her here, she’d gone and dulled all her sharp, fascinating edges. The total absence of flirting stumped him. She was acting like she really believed this was a duty date.
He didn’t get it. He thought he’d made it perfectly clear that he wanted the benefits of their date to be mutual. He’d gone to ridiculous lengths to find a flower gift on Christmas Eve, to drive home the point.
He knew she felt it. She’d responded to him. She’d presented her breast to him like a gift, matched him wild kiss for wild kiss. He hadn’t mistaken the aroused woman smell of her.
When he left, he’d been torn between effecting some quick sexual relief in the shower and keeping himself unfinished. Optimistically he’d gone with the latter. He’d been hard since picking her up, but he could live with that if it heightened the anticipation between them.
Because there was no question in his mind. This was a real date. He anticipated real kisses, real sass, and if all went well, real naked Paula.
Over lunch, he had asked her if there was something wrong.
She’d smiled sweetly and reapplied her lip gloss. “No, but thanks for asking.”
