Page 162 of The Re-Proposal

Ris’s eyes narrow as she whips her head up. “Doberman isn’t your personal assassin.”

“It was just a suggestion.”

“Cody.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” She slants me a weird look. “Why are you over-reacting? I’m not as experienced as you and your harem of women,” she slams her finger in my chest, “but I’ve been to a handful of galas like this before.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?”

She snorts. “Get over yourself.”

Only if you get under me. Preferably naked.

Our eyes lock. Lightning simmers in the air between us. A crackling, snapping magnetism that refuses to be ignored.

I slide my fingers over her cheek, unable to stop myself from touching her. “Do you want to leave?”

“We just got here.”

“Which means we’ve got time to sneak out before things get any worse,” I counter.

“If you think I’m going to embarrass you—”

“That’snotit.”

She pins her lips together, clearly disliking my tone.

I soften my voice a touch. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Why? Because I’m a poor charity worker who doesn’t fit in?”

I stop abruptly and take her face between my hands. “You are so much more than that, Ris. You deserve to be in this room. It’s them who don’t deserve your light.”

“Thanks.” She gives me a wry smile and then pulls back. “But I’m not going to fall apart because some rich folks don’t like me.”

You did ten years ago and I didn’t see it. I never saw it until it was too late.

She pushes at me. “Go. Schmooze with whoever it is you came here to schmooze with.”

I narrow my eyes. “How do you know I came here for someone?”

“Because you’re Cody Bolton. Everything you do has to benefit the bottom line.” She smiles.

Her words are like a dagger to my heart for some reason. Is that how I am?

“Join me.”

“No thanks.” She shakes her head. “My eyes will just glaze over anyway. I’ll be happier over at the snack table trying to pronounce the fancy names for what are obviously just pigs in a blanket.”

This woman is so far under my skin that I can’t breathe for a second. “Come over anytime. And if anyone bothers you—”

“Sheesh, when did you start sounding like a concerned parent? I’m a grown woman who can hold her own. You don’t have to babysit me.” She tosses her head and glides away.

I force myself to walk in the other direction.

Clarissa was right about me using the gala as an excuse to make a new business contact, but any hope of concentration is dashed out the window. I can’t extricate my eyes from her.

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