Page 33 of Wasted On You

“Because?” he prompted.

“Val pushes all my buttons, and I…” her breath caught, and her shoulders fell. “I didn’t want her to win. That’s all.”

“You sure that’s the only reason?” His tone got her attention, and she yanked her head up. His eyes glittered, and he moved closer. The air was so thick with something dark and dangerous she found it hard to breathe. Ivy needed to shut down whatever the hell this was pronto.

We don’t like Mike Paul.

Good. Right.

Except, in this moment, why did she feel so damn alive? Maybe she was riding the line a little too close, but Ivy licked at her bottom lip and lifted her chin.

“Val could have been bidding on a kidney removal, and I would have still tried my best to outbid her. This had nothing to do with you.”

“If you say so.”

“Damn right, I say so.”

“How about Wednesday?”

“What?” Confused, she frowned.

“Your calendar. Are you free, or does your fiancé have plans for the two of you?” He bent forward—so close she could count his lashes if she wanted to, which she didn’t. He had entirely too many to count.

He smelled good. Which was something else she shouldn’t be noting.

“Where is he?” Mike Paul’s voice lowered even more, and her heart ramped up to the point she was sure anyone within a mile radius could hear it pounding inside her chest. “Your Yankee.”

“He’s on his way back from New York.”

“What about Wednesday then?” At her confused look, he winked. “Our date?”

“You don’t actually expect me to go on a date with you?”

“Isn’t that what this whole thing is about?”

“It’s all fake.”

“It might be fake, but the two grand you’re paying to spend the day with me sure isn’t. It’s like a contract, and I aim to keep my part of the bargain.”

“It’s for charity,” she stuttered. “No one expects us to, you know, go on a date. And I’m engaged, so it wouldn’t be the proper thing to do. People will talk.”

“It doesn’t matter because it’s fake.”

Alarm shot through her, red-hot bolts of anxiety that made it hard to swallow. There’s no way he could know. “Why would you say that?”

A weird look crossed his face, and she was beginning to regret ever stepping foot inside the limo.

“I’m talking about our so-called date.”

Relief flooded her, and Ivy’s body relaxed so much that her legs felt like spaghetti. She had to get the hell away from him. “It’s still a bad idea.”

“Are you afraid of me, Wilkens?”

“Not at all.”

“Then get your ass out of bed early on Wednesday because Lord knows you need at least two coffees in you before you’re approachable. I’ll pick you up at seven a.m.” He gave her a cocky salute. “Make sure you’re rested up.”

She didn’t get a chance to reply because Mike Paul left without another word, and she found herself staring after him as he walked away from her, mouth open like an idiot, hands still clenched so tight there had to be blood.

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