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Graham’s eyes burn into mine. “I want you. More so now than ever. I’m enchanted by you, Angie, and I think that I’m appealing to you as well. Have any men hurt you, sweetheart?”
His hands caress my cheek bones tenderly.
“No,” I whisper shyly.
“I’m just trying to figure out how such a diamond can remain undiscovered for so long.”
“Why do you even care?”
“Any man who is in your past or present is viewed as a potential threat to me. Including your sing-songy friend,” he says using air quotes around the word friend.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
“Oh, I am not in a joking mood.”
“Are you ever?”
His chuckle is contagious and works wonders on my tense posture. I instantly relax. “I think I might have underestimated you, Miss McFee.”
“Better than being overestimated, I suppose.”
His laugh grows. “My charm seems to work on everyone but you. You are immune.”
“Is that why you're so interested? Because you can’t have me? So, if I were to give in that would make you back off?”
“I have a feeling that if I were to have you once, then I would never be able to resist again. Does that scare you, Miss McFee?”
I swallow hard and nod in response.
“Despite what you might think, I do not want to scare you.”
“Too late.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Let me fix that. I have a proposition for you. How about we discuss it in private?”
“Not interested.”
“You haven’t even heard it!” he snaps, pulling me from the crowd toward the back of the room. My protests fall on deaf ears.
“Quit treating me like a child,” I sneer.
“Then quit acting like one.”
I follow behind Graham, his hand firmly holding mine. As we pass some of the charity officials in suits, his name is called out in greeting, as if everyone that looks to be of high importance knows and respects him. I can only follow in his shadow, as he tries to open the doors in the hallway, finding them all to be locked. He pulls me down another corridor, where a red cushioned bench is located. Frosted wall sconces provide a warm illumination, casting a muted glow about the space. We are far away from the excitement in the ballroom; only the hum of the muffled music can be heard.
“Sit,” he says, taking a seat himself.
When I hesitate, he tugs my arm, sending me surging right down into his lap.
“What is your problem?” I demand.
“I want to proposition you.”
I scoot off his lap and turn my body toward his, resting my side against the wall.
“Oh, I’m sure you do.”
“I had a whole week away from you. I tried,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “to stay away. Trust me, I did. But it’s as if you have a magnetic pull that is keeping me from pulling away from you. We will be horrible together, and yet I can’t stop myself from wanting to push past the feeling of impending disaster just to see where this goes.”
