Page 39 of One Wrong Move

Judging from the way his eyes glimmer dangerously, he did.

Because the man I’d assumed he was, based on his wealth, his job, his history… is pretty much what Dean had been. And that shallow woman I pictured Nate being attracted to, was who Dean wanted me to be.

And what had smothered me until I couldn’t take a proper breath.

“Maybe,” he continues, voice dark, “you want a man who doesn’t see your ambition as a problem or a threat. Someone who doesn’t want a palatable partner for social events, who expects your schedule to effortlessly fit his.”

I can’t look away from his gaze, even though it feels like it’s burning through me. On its imaginary shelf, I can hear the box rattle.

“Maybe,” I say quietly. “I agree with you about that.”

He takes another sip of his drink. Leans back in his chair, like he has noticed that I need space and gives it to me. But my heart is still beating fast. Nate’s more perceptive than I had thought.

“You still want a man who appreciates beauty, though.” The words are easy, light. He’s looking out the window as he says it, at the line of people now trying to get into the upscale bar.

The return to his charming self makes me chuckle, and the tension in the air bleeds out. This is the Nate I’m familiar with.

“Describe him to me,” he says with an amused drawl. “Your perfect man. Would he be a painter? An artist? Someone you could talk with about art history?”

My smile feels easier now. We’re on safer ground. “Using that logic, your perfect woman is someone who understands… whatever it is you do at Contron.”

He huffs a laugh. “If that’s one of the criteria, I’ll be single for life.”

“Maybe that’s not so bad. I’ve thought about that lately. Maybe I’ll join you in glorious singlehood. Focus on my career and my friendships, and on the art collection.” I hold up my drink with a smile.

He looks at it dubiously, but then lifts his own with a small shake of his head. “This,” he says, “is the stupidest thing I’ve ever toasted to.”

We clink our glasses together.

“Why?”

“Because you’re obviously not going to be single for the rest of your life. You mentioned the hostess checking me out? Well, there’s a group of guys across the room, and at least two of them have been looking at you longer than they should have if they weren’t interested.”

On reflex, I glance over to where his gaze has shifted. “Really?”

He snorts. “Single for life, my ass.”

I grab my drink and move over to his side of the table, sitting next to him on the lounge sofa. “I need a better view,” I tell him.

“You’re a woman on a mission.”

“Of course I am. Okay… see the woman at the bar, talking to her friend? The brunette with a glittery handbag. She looked at you while we were walking in.”

“Wow,” he says. “I’m flattered.”

I roll my eyes. “What should I do? I’m thinking I go up and order, and while I’m waiting for a drink, I’ll talk to her. Start up a friendly conversation, and then you join us.” Adrenaline is already flowing through my veins at the notion. I used to do things like this often when I was a college student. Cared less about what people thought.

Nate’s thigh rests against mine. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Like what?”

“So hellbent on a stupid idea.” There’s reluctant amusement in his tone. “I’m almost enjoying it.”

“Almost?”

“Nearly all the way there,” he says. “Could be convinced if you went just a bit crazier.”

My heart speeds up. “Maybe that’s what I need. To get crazier. Even if my family already thinks I’ve gone insane.”

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