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He’s an ass, I remind myself, like a mantra, over and over in my head. A drop dead gorgeous ass, sure. But no amount of brooding and smoldering can make up for the fact that he’s a dickhead of the lowest order.
I clear my throat and flip open the folder. I know he won’t read anything in it, but I need something to do, somewhere to look that isn’t his five o’clock shadow and the way it frames his lips.
“As you know, we’re collecting donations to save the community theater from being shut down.” That firm, professional tone I so confidently wielded a moment ago has deserted me. I take a breath and try again. “Since the early 60’s, our theater has been home to-”
“I don’t give a shit about your theater, Miss Ford. But I would like to.” He cocks his head to the side, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And I want you to convince me over dinner. Preferably in a different outfit.”
“Excuse me?” The heat in my face no longer has anything to do with being flustered. Edward Spencer is lucky there’s a solid piece of furniture between us right now, because I swear to God…
“I mean no offense, of course,” his tone is patronizing at best. “All I’m saying, is that this could be a very lucrative partnership for you… and your theater.”
I rip the folder from under his hands and shove it back into my purse with probably more dramatics than is called for. But fuck this guy and fuck his money.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Spencer, but this isn’t going to work.” I’m about three feet from the table when I feel his hand close around my arm, spinning me back around to face him.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asks, his grin twitching.
I’m sure the great and esteemed Edward Spencer hasn’t experienced being shut down in his life. It’s a small reward in the face of losing his much-needed donation.
I square my shoulders, stubbornly sticking out my chin as I try to ignore the way he towers over me. The way his presence seems to absorb everything in the vicinity, leaving us the only two people on the whole planet.
“Actually, yes,” I say to him. “Everything you’ve said since I got here. All of it. I don’t want your money and I definitely don’t want dinner. In fact, I’d rather sever my arm from my body, shove it down my throat, and slowly choke to death. Please let go of me. I need to leave.”
Surprisingly, Edward drops his hand from my arm and blinks at me, saying nothing. It’s like I can see his brain processing the rejection he’s just received. If he were an android, the words ‘Does not compute’ would’ve been flashing behind his eyes.
2
Edward
It was third grade. We were playing tag during recess when Savannah Benson picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it in my face. All because I tagged her and yelled to everyone that ‘I got the pretty one’. That was the last time I got rejected by a girl.
For a second, I’m dumbstruck by the gall of Miss Cara Ford. It passes quickly though, standing in the middle of my favorite strip joint, and is replaced with plain and utter intrigue.
“You’re as fascinating as you are beautiful,” I tell her, enjoying the way my words make her squirm.
It’s either my words, or the fact that I’m standing far too close for comfort. Her scent is fresh, like she’s just stepped out of a hot shower. Makes me want to run my tongue up the length of her slender neck. And as the thought occurs to me, it becomes my number one priority.
I’m not about to let Cara join the ranks of Savannah Benson and break my streak.
“We’re done here.” She swings her purse and begins to storm off.
Goddamn, she’s so hot when she’s angry.
I’m still enjoying the view from behind when Cara suddenly turns back.
“You know what? No, we’re not done yet.” She jabs her index finger at me, her milky complexion flushed with her furious contemplation. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy her immensely.
“You people are all the same,” she says, a distasteful grimace on her face. “All the money in the world but you have no clue what to do with it. You’d rather throw it at- at strippers, and- and fancy cars, and other mindless, meaningless things, like Aliens Out West than do some actual good in the world.”
My ears perk up at her last mention. She’s gotten to the end of her tirade, chest heaving in her irate state. I’m briefly distracted by the state of the chest she’s packing underneath her ratty old jumper, but it’s only briefly.
“You seem to have people like me pegged.” I’m careful to keep my excitement at bay, giving her only enough to reel her in.
Cara scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Well, there isn’t much mystery to your world. You all go about your lives, balls out for the whole world to retweet about.”
I take another step forward and to my surprise, she lets me. Curling a lock of her soft blonde hair around my finger, I lower my voice and utter the phrase that always gets me going…
“How about a little wager?”
