How did she not feel it?
He half-listened as she described in detail the way that she would auction off a number of single male hospital employees—but he would be the highlight. The key feature. Because women loved him, he heard her say.
Her eyes still bright with excitement, he watched her case the room as if looking for proof. “All of these women,” she said, gesturing to the crowd, “they all want you.”
All except you. She was talking about women in general. Not her. Apparently his date, whom he’d hoped to be wooing, was ready to auction him off to someone else. Literally. He didn’t know whether to laugh or shout. This woman was not only pushing him away, she was selling him off!
And yet, he was still standing here watching her with dazed fascination. He couldn’t help it. Despite all of her attempts to keep him at bay, despite the forced coldness and the brick wall she put up around him—he was smitten. That was the only word he could think to describe it.
This was an infatuation, surely, but whatever it was, it was a first.
Maybe Claudia had a point; maybe he was just intrigued by the chase. It was possible he’d be able to move on if he just had a chance to get to know her. It was the mystery that had him so enamored. Her shifting responses, the flickers of genuine emotions he caught sight of behind her well-maintained cool façade—that was what intrigued him. He wanted—no, needed—to get to know the woman whose laugh filled him with life, the woman who’d cried on his shoulder over her elderly neighbor friend, the woman whose intelligence sparkled in her eyes, as undeniable as her physical beauty. There was so much more to her than what she showed the world, and from the glimpses he’d seen, he liked it. He liked her.
“What do you think?” she asked. She blinked up at him, lips parted slightly.
He could kiss her. It had almost happened on the dance floor, and he knew without a doubt that she’d wanted it, too. He could kiss her now and silence this whole ridiculous conversation.
But he knew exactly what would happen if he did that. She would respond to him physically at first, but once her senses returned, she’d pull away. Or worse, she’d run from him. This seemed to be the pattern with them—one he was determined to break. He just had no idea how.
She was waiting for an answer, and he thrust a hand through his hair as he told her the truth. “I don’t want to do it.”
Some of the excitement drained from her face and he had to fight the inexplicable guilt. She was asking him to sell himself…in public…to a bunch of women who he tried to avoid on a regular basis. Why the hell did he feel guilty?
Maybe because that genuine excitement he saw in her eyes was so honest and sweet…and rare. He wanted to see this side of her all the time.
“I thought you wanted this event to be a success,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest—apparently not realizing how distracting her exposed cleavage looked in that particular pose. He forced his gaze up to meet hers before he did something crazy like pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
“I do want this to be a success,” he said. “But—”
“You’ve got to admit that it’s a good idea,” she continued. She leaned in toward him in her eagerness, and her soft vanilla scent surrounded him making it difficult to think. God, he wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.
“It’s one night,” she continued. “Just one night. And it’s not like I’m asking you to marry the winner or anything, the prize will be a date. How hard could that be?”
He could barely hear her words anymore. He was supposed to be smart, driven, strong-willed. So how was it that this woman reduced him to a pile of idiocy just by talking to him? What was she saying? How hard could a date be?
And that’s when it occurred to him—a stroke of genius in the midst of his brain’s current timeout. “I’ll do it.” The words came out before he could properly think this through. But this could be his one chance to get to know her. It was worth a shot.
Her eyes widened with surprise, but then she graced him with a smile that was so genuine, so beautiful he was nearly too stunned to get the next words out. “On one condition.”
Her smile froze, and he could hear his heart pounding in the brief silence that followed his statement. He saw her tighten her arms across her chest as if preparing physically. “Go on,” she said.
He cleared his throat and glanced around the crowded ballroom to make sure no one was listening. It was pathetic enough that he was resorting to extortion to get a date, he didn’t need witnesses.
“I’ll be your star bachelor at the event…if you agree to let me date you.”
Her jaw dropped open, and her eyes went frighteningly blank.
“Just until the event,” he said. “And if you never want to see me again after that, I will leave you alone. I just want a chance—”
The blank expression vanished as her lips turned down in a scowl. “Let me get this straight. You’ll do your part to make your event a success…if I sleep with you?”
The coldness in her voice made his heart clench. “Jesus, Alice, no!” He took a step toward her and flinched when she backed away.
His brain scrambled to make this right. “I just meant date. Like two people going out and getting to know each other. I didn’t mean sex. Geez, Alice, is that what dating means to you?”
The instant the words left his mouth, he wished he could call them back.
Her cheeks turned pink and her lips clamped shut, but he couldn’t tell if she was angry or embarrassed.
Dammit, he was making a mess of this. He reached out toward her but again she shrank back. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, and I didn’t mean to offend you.”
A silence fell between them, and he watched her shoulders loosen slightly at the apology.
He took a deep breath and tried again, softening his tone and stepping back so he was no longer looming over her. All of his excuses and rationalizations for wanting this arrangement flew through his head, but somehow he knew that trying to justify himself would only make this work. So he stuck with the simple, honest truth. “I like you.”
Her gaze met his before darting toward the front door. Was that panic he saw in her eyes? He resisted the urge to reach out and hold on to her to keep her from fleeing.
“I like you,” he said again. “And I just want a chance to get to know you. Is that so bad?”
* * * *
Is that so bad? A hysterical laugh started to rise in her throat, and she clamped her mouth shut to keep it locked inside. Is that so bad? Yes!
But this man—this honest, genuine, kind man—was looking at her with such tenderness, such caring—how the hell could she explain it to him? He would never understand.
She’d dated, for lack of a better word, musicians and bikers and even a guy who had ties to the mob. But none of them were as dangerous as this sexy doctor. Everything about the guy from his clean-cut hairstyle to his square jaw with the adorable cleft cried “Prince Charming.” But she knew better. The gallant, chivalrous, noble hero only existed in fairytales and black-and-white movies. He was not real.
I like you. The words rang in her ears, disarmingly simple, but their effect on her was anything but.
Maybe because she liked him back. She shook her head slightly, trying to shove aside the thought, but her conscience wouldn’t let her lie to herself. She did like him. Or at least, she liked what little she knew of him. She liked the way he remembered the assistants’ names at the office. Or how he spent time with Ena, a woman he barely knew, and had kept her company while she was in the hospital. Or the way he held doors open for her like he’d just stepped out of one of her old movies. And she liked the way he looked at her—like he was looking at her right now—like she was the only person on the planet, despite the fact that there were dozens of other women in the room, all of whom were trying to get his attention.
He was watching her reaction now, and the concern in his gaze brought her
back to the first night they’d met. He’d been so confident and calm when she’d been flipping out. And not only that, but also the way he’d been after the fact. The way he’d held her in his arms as she’d cried and hadn’t run in the opposite direction at the sight of her emotions. More than that—she’d known he would stay with her. He was just so reliable, so trustworthy, so…not what she’d expected.
That was why she liked him—and that was what made him more dangerous than any guy she’d ever met.
She started to shake her head, but before she could say the word “no” he started speaking.
“What if I promise not to make any moves?” He raised his brows in a hopeful look that was so cute it hurt her heart. “I promise not to take advantage of you in any way.”
Alice couldn’t stop the choked laugh that escaped her lips. It wasn’t him she was worried about. No more than five minutes ago, she’d been just about ready to throw herself into this man’s arms, heedless of the consequences or the audience around them.
He leaped on her temporary silence. “What have you got to lose?”
Everything. The thought was completely irrational, but she couldn’t silence it. She didn’t want to like this man any more than she already did. She didn’t want to get to know him, and she sure as hell didn’t want him to know her.
Liar.
Okay, so maybe she did. And was it any wonder? The guy was the whole package. He was like one of her old movie crushes come to life. Hell, the man had just waltzed with her, for God’s sake. But it would lead to trouble.
He was watching her, waiting for her answer. She should say no. But his gaze was so sweet, so hopeful. She found herself saying, “I’ll think about it.”
She was rewarded with a huge grin, complete with dimples and a cleft that would have made any model proud. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s have another dance—uninterrupted this time, I promise.”
When she resisted the tug on her hand, he leaned down and whispered teasingly, “One dance. I’ll even let you tell me about this ridiculous bachelor auction you’ve got planned.”
She let herself be dragged onto the dance floor even as her brain told her to shut this down. Later, she promised herself. She would tell him no later, after they’d had a bit of fun and she’d managed to convince him of the brilliance of her plan. He would get on board, and then she would break it to him that she had no intention of dating him. Ever.
But she would just enjoy one harmless dance first.
Chapter 8
One dance turned into two, and as they moved across the dance floor. Nicholas was oblivious to the crowd around them, completely transfixed by the sweet, dreamy smile that Alice wore. He almost didn’t want to interrupt whatever trance she was in, but he found himself too curious to hold out any longer. “What are you thinking about?”
Her head tilted back so she was looking into his eyes, but she didn’t lose the smile. God, he loved that smile. It spoke of a sweetness and innocence that was completely at odds with the hardened, poised façade she normally presented.
“Hmmm?” Even her voice sounded dreamy.
He couldn’t risk pulling her out of this state, so he changed tactics. Leaning down, he said quietly in her ear, “You’re a wonderful dancer.”
Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes dropped down. “Thank you.”
He thought she wouldn’t speak anymore, but then, she blurted out, “I used to want to be a dancer.”
The words should not have been a bombshell. But they were. This was the first time she’d ever willingly offered up personal information about herself, and he had the feeling he was walking on eggshells as he maneuvered her into a turn.
He chose his words carefully, hoping his eagerness wasn’t readily apparent. “What made you want to dance?”
Her eyes flickered up to his, and he caught the wariness there, as though he’d just asked her to divulge her bank account information rather than a simple question about her childhood. What the hell had happened to this woman that she was so wary of men?
He had enough experience with wary children with a massive distrust of doctors to know that pushing the issue would only make it worse. The best thing he could do was offer up something about himself, let her get to know him before asking her to trust him. “I always wanted to be a doctor.”
Her eyes widened slightly at the change of topic, but she didn’t respond, so he continued. “My father was a doctor, and his father before him. I guess I always knew that it was what I was meant to do.”
One corner of her mouth turned up at that. “That must be nice,” she said. “To be so certain of where you stand in the world—where you’re meant to be.”
Her words struck a chord. She was right—he had always known his place in the world. He’d always had it all mapped out. First it had been mapped out for him by his parents, and then he’d taken over the obsessive planning that seemed inherent in his genes. He’d never lost track of his path—until he met this woman. She was not part of the plan. He was supposed to fall in love with a woman who loved him back and who fit in with the lifestyle that he’d created. It was supposed to be easy.
For the first time in his life, the plan wasn’t working. Oh, his career was right on track—when this fundraiser was a success, there was no doubt he’d be offered the position. He was already the frontrunner according to his friends on the board. But that eventual coup no longer held the same appeal it had before. It seemed…hollow. Lonely.
But that was ridiculous. He’d gone into this wife-hunting plan solely to reach the next step in his life plan, not out of any sense of loneliness or need. But now…now that he’d met someone who filled a void he hadn’t known existed, the idea of not having it in his life made him achingly aware of the gaping hole in his life where love should be.
She was watching him closely, and he got the sense she saw more in his expression than he would have liked, so he forced a smile and was as truthful as possible. “It was nice. It is nice,” he clarified. “But knowing what you want to do as a profession isn’t the same as knowing where you fit in the world. Or with whom.”
Her smile faltered a bit, and she tilted her head to the side. “I guess that’s true. I’m glad I found my niche in PR, though,” she said. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“Not even dancing?” he teased. She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling, so he pushed it a bit further. “What type of dancer did you want to be? A ballerina?” He couldn’t help but grin at the image of a little red-haired girl with a tutu and Alice’s now-familiar look of determination.
But Alice shook her head. “Oh no, I never took ballet lessons or anything like that.” She paused briefly, but then she said, “I wanted to be a ballroom dancer.”
He moved back slightly so he could see her face better. “Seriously? A ballroom dancer?”
She nodded quickly, her lips pressed together in what looked like an attempt not to laugh out loud.
“Now I’m really intrigued,” he said in all seriousness. “Where did that idea come from?”
She let out the laugh then and the sound was more beautiful than the orchestra’s playing. He had a feeling that sound—her real, genuine laugh—was only heard by a rare few. And God help him if he didn’t want to be in that exclusive club.
She shook her head, still laughing. “I know. It’s a weird dream for a kid to have. But my sister and I…” She hesitated for a second but finally continued. “We used to love old movies. Still do, I guess. But my favorites were always the musicals.” When she looked up at him, her eyes wide and guileless, he almost lost his footing.
“You know, the Fred and Ginger ones?” she said.
He nodded mutely, afraid that if he spoke she would clam up on him again.
She shrugged. “I know it’s stupid but—”
“It’s not stupid.”
Her head shot up, and he realized he’d sounded a bit too gruff. Too in
tense. He tried to soften it a bit. “It’s not stupid. It was a childhood dream.” He leaned in a bit. “I bet you would have made an incredible ballroom dancer.”
Her cheeks turned pink again, but she held his gaze for a moment before glancing down at the two of them moving in time with the music. “Well, for now I have to settle for dancing at fundraisers with handsome doctors.”
The surge of pleasure that coursed through him at the compliment was absurd. He heard more profuse compliments on a daily basis—but still, it was heartening. “I’m no Fred Astaire….”
She laughed and tilted her head back, and he caught sight of the mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “You’re no Fred Astaire,” she agreed. “But you’ll do.”
It could barely even be considered a compliment, yet those words stayed with him for the rest of the evening. They gave him hope as he escorted Alice to the bar, deftly maneuvering them so they avoided the more aggressive admirers in attendance.
With champagne in hand, he steered her toward a secluded corner, hoping against hope that he could lure her into another conversation. Once they were settled, he asked, “So how did you and your sister discover this love of old movies?”
And just like that, the glimpse of the real Alice was gone. He saw the shutters come down in her eyes as she took a sip of her champagne and turned to look at the dancers on the dance floor. “We should talk some more about this bachelor auction,” she said.
His stomach fell. Somehow he’d asked the wrong question, and her walls were back up. Not only that, but she was back on the topic of his humiliation. Fantastic.
He went along with it with a sigh. “All right. Assuming you agree to my terms, what exactly did you have in mind.”
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