Page 87 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

“And I don’t want to see the book room.”

“You don’t?”

While I was curious about which books Duncan had stocked in his personal library—or a personal library he’d intended forme,rather—I shook my head. “No. Right now, I want that date you promised me.”

I knew based on previous conversations, that the D-word was dangerous in and of itself. But I said it anyway. He’d done so much for me; I couldn’t just walk away from that.

“What date?” he asked.

“Didn’t you say you were going to take me out on the town? You promised me Eureka Springs. I want to see this town I’ve read so much about.”

His body lured me in closer. I didn’t want to stop touching him, and I couldn’t understand why.

It’s friendly,I told myself.Nothing more.

So, even though he’d pulled away before, I took his hand in mine, eager to extend an effort at camaraderie after such an awkward, yet revealing afternoon. This time, he let me.

His warm skin slid softly against mine. The touch fizzled up my arm.

A quiet thunderstorm erupted in my palm as he accepted my gesture. He matched his palm against mine and wove his fingers through, clasping them.

“It’s not a date,” he said softly, as though he didn’t believe the words.

He gazed at me, and it felt as though an entire lifetime was bottled in that moment.

As if he felt the same thing, realization flickered in his expression. He peered down at our hands and then removed his from mine.

My palm felt strangely empty.

“Not a date,” he repeated, stepping away from me.

“Whatever you say,” I said.

The fight I usually packed into my words during moments like this with him was gone. I was so thrown, I didn’t know what to think. What was bothering him so much? Why did he keep pulling away from me when I got such opposite vibes every time he looked at me?

We weren’t back at the office. His staff kept to themselves, so there wasn’t anyone around to see what we were up to. This reluctance was no longer about rumors.

Not for me, anyway.

I wanted to figure him out. I wanted to explore this fledgling connection between us. I wanted him to know I was someone he could trust—and yeah, I was tempted to respond to the attraction searing between us every time we were in the same room together.

Could Duncan Hawthorne be someoneIcould trust?

“So are we going?” I asked.

Conflict ravaged his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t stay if I didn’t want to.”

His throat worked through a swallow. He paused, staring at me, his brow furrowing.

Just when I thought he would argue, he nodded. “Sure. I’ll let Clive know.”

Without another word or backward glance, he strode to the bedroom door and left.

Disappointment sank into my chest. I strode back to the bed and swabbed out the flute, dislodging its pieces and returning them to the case while running back through every moment of this latest encounter.

What made Duncan so reluctant to get close to me? He was so push and pull, I couldn’t grasp it. After the heated moment we’d shared in his home gym, and the conversation about dating, why would he say he wanted to take me out and not call it what it was?

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