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He didn’t just want this woman.
It was imperative he have her.
“I have a proposition for you.” He cleared his throat. The tight new feeling of urgency made his voice brusque and rough. “After what happened back in the elevator, I need a date for tonight.”
She swung around, eyes going wide. “Oh, you do, huh?” At his nod, they narrowed. “I see. You told off your woman and now you want help with solving a problemyoucreatedon your own. So what, you want me to set you up with someone?” She fired off a response before he could reply. “Gee, Bastian, so sorry. I’d love to, but I couldn’t do that to my friends. You see, none of them would give a single rat’s behind about your la-di-daconnections.” She swung open her door.
Damn, the woman was quick.
She stepped inside and began to shut the door, only to pause at the last second. “Just tell me one thing. Explain to me why you even need a date for a—what is it, a party? ”
“My parents’ annual Christmas Eve function. It’s a major event every year.”
“I’ve heard of it,” she allowed. “I think I saw a write-up in the FunTimesabout it.”
“That’s the one,” he confirmed. “My parents use the occasion as an opportunity to play matchmaker. I never go without a date because in their mind going stag is an invitation to set me up.” It occurred to him that he hadn’t made himself clear. “That’s not what I meant, though. I don’t want you to find me a date. I want you to be my date.”
She stared at him without moving a muscle. Very slowly her head tilted, as if to get another angle on his face.
And then, causing a red tide to flow into his cheeks, she burst into laughter. The sound was merry, musical, and damn fucking sexy. “Good one, you got me,” she sputtered, right before she shut the door in his face.
