Page 46 of Beyond Question

Rylan’s eyes widen but I continue before she can think of an argument or tell me how wrong I am about his intentions.

“Men like Travis Wilder don’t wantstrong independence, they want pliable and agreeable.” I roll my eyes. “Two things I’ll never be.”

“Hello, Paige.”

I freeze at the sound of his voice directly behind me and Rylan drops her head into her hands. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, but the action doesn’t work to calm me because I’ve now pulled his scent into my nose and,goddammit, he smells absolutely divine. Woodsy and masculine and…

Wealthy, an annoying little voice in the back of my mind reminds me.

Yep, that’s right; the man smells like generational wealth.

That’s exactly the scent.

Only it’snot, not at all. Things would be so much easier if it was.

Instead, Travis Wilder smells like pine and something musky that I can’t pinpoint and I’m reminded again by that foresty smell that giving into him would meangetting lost—and every time I see him, the reasoning for why that is a problem gets murkier and harder to grasp.

When he leans forward, he doesn’t touch me, but he doesn’t have to. I feel him everywhere just the same, his body’s close proximity to mine sending all kinds of brain-malfunctioning heat through my veins.

“Please,” Travis murmurs, “don’t stop on my account. Continue regaling us with what it is I want.”

He’s so close I could just turn my head, push up onto my toes, and slant my mouth over his.

I swallow hard and open my eyes, then sidestep and turn toward him. “Mr. Wilder, good afternoon.”

His eyes hold mine, full of mirth even as his expression remains serious. “I’m curious,” he says, still not stepping away from me.

So I move instead, circling back behind my desk so I have this massive piece of wood between us. Distance. Distance is good.

I wish I didn’t find him so inhumanly attractive. Avoiding his pursuit would be far easier.

“In all the romance novels you’ve read,” Travis says as he strides toward me, motioning to the wall of novels behind me, “how have you not come across a single heroine who is both?”

Rylan stands with a squeak and hurries out of my office, then Travis lowers himself into the seat she just vacated, sitting back and manspreading like he belongs here.

He laces his fingers together and rests his hands on his taut belly.

When he clears his throat, I drag my eyes away from his strong hands and ask, “Both?”

Travis smirks. “Strong and independentas well aspliable and agreeable.”

Frowning, I shake my head. “You can’t be both.”

Travis leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice drops a few octaves when he says, “Oh, I beg to differ. I’ve seen some of the strongest women turn pliable under the right circumstances.”

Sweet baby Jesus.I think I could definitely turn pliable for this man.

He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, then tugs it between his teeth and—

Is it hot in here or is that just menopause?

I sit down with more of athudthan I’d have liked, but I can’t allow him to distract me. “Well, if you’re quite finished with whatever that was, I have mountains of work to attend to.”

Travis runs his tongue over his teeth, but his smirk won’t hide and neither will that damn dimple peeking out at me from his cheek. “It’s lunchtime.”

“And?”

“Andeven strong, independent women have to eat, Ms. Matthews.”

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