Page 54 of The Bad Wedding Date

“Okay.”

“Okay?” She frowned. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“I’m waiting to hear the rest. I’m letting you use your voice.”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“I could.” I took a step closer, and then another, until there were only a few feet between us. Pushing my hands into my trouser pockets, I stared into her bright eyes. “But I want to hear your theories.”

“You’re scaring me, Fraser.”

I shook my head. “You’re far too strong for that.”

She leaned against the back of the sofa, resting both hands on it. She opened her mouth to speak, but then a small frown took over, and she quickly looked down at her hands and pushed up to standing again.

“Shit! My purse. I’ve left it in the ballroom. I have to go back.”

“Not happening.”

Her eyes shot to mine. “Are you holding me hostage?”

I barked out a laugh, unable to contain my smile. “Don’t be dramatic, baby.” The word ‘baby’ slipped free without thought, and I instantly regretted it. Whatever kind of power she possessed, I was under it, imagining the two of us arguing back and forth like this after a heavenly meal out in a fine London restaurant before I brought her back here and undressed her slowly…

Her cheeks turned to fire, and she quickly tucked her hair behind her ear, both of us pretending that my use of ‘baby’ had gone unnoticed.

“I need my purse, Fraser. It’s got my phone, my keys, my money—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

I shot a text to Wade, telling him to get Dean or Joey to bring Charlotte’s purse to my suite. He didn’t respond, which meant he didn’t have any questions. I knew all too well that one of my men would be at the door within the next five minutes. Satisfied, I tucked my phone back into my pocket and let my hands settle in there, too.

“Now, about those theories you have.”

“You’re enraging beyond belief.”

I stared at her, waiting.

“Fine. Tristan and Penn. They kept looking at you like they knew you, too.”

“They don’t.”

“How can I be sure of that?”

“I guess you just have to trust me.”

It was her turn to huff out a humourless laugh, and she looked all around before her eyes resettled on me. “I feel like this is a game you’re playing, and I’m losing while you’re laughing. Trust you, don’t trust you, trust you, don’t trust you. Has my mother put you up to this? Has she paid you to see if a handsome face can bring her usually rock-solid daughter to her knees?”

“I don’t work for women like her.”

“Whodoyou work for?”

How could I tell her what I did without it scaring the hell out of her? I couldn’t, so I waited and tried to find the right thing to say, which wasn’t easy, given the way my thoughts were so scrambled around this woman.

For a moment, we said nothing—just held each other’s gaze. If I could have climbed inside her mind to figure out what she was thinking, I would have. I’d never needed to know another person’s thoughts the way I craved to know hers.

The knock on the door broke me from my thoughts.

“Special delivery!” Dean called from the corridor.

---