She eyed him uncertainly. ‘You do not.’
‘I do. But I bet you don’t cook. You buy a bagel on the way to work, skip lunch and eat a bowl of cereal standing by the sink for dinner.’
It was just a little too close to the truth and it sounded unbelievably pathetic. Suddenly Millie wanted to stop this little game. Desperately. ‘I order take-out on occasion as well,’ she told him, trying for breezy. ‘So what do you do, anyway?’
‘I’m an architect. Does that count as pseudo-creative?’
‘Definitely.’ She was being incredibly harsh, but she was afraid to be anything else. This man exposed her in a way that felt like peeling back her skin—painful and messy. This date was over.
‘As entertaining as this has been, I think I’ll go.’ She drained her glass of wine and half-rose from her chair, only to be stopped by Chase wrapping his fingers around her wrist, just as he had before—and, just as before, she reacted, an explosion of senses inside her.
‘Scared, Millie?’
‘Scared?’ she repeated as contemptuously as she could. ‘Of what—you?’
‘Of us.’
‘There is no us.’
‘There’s been an us since the moment you agreed to a drink, dinner and a walk on the beach,’ he informed her with silky softness. ‘And so far we’ve just had our drink.’
‘Let me go,’ she said flatly, her lips numb, her whole body buzzing.
Chase held up both hands, his gaze still holding hers as if they were joined by a live wire. ‘I already did.’
And so he had. She was standing there like a complete idiot, acting as if she were trapped, when the only thing imprisoning her was her own fear. This man guessed way too much.
She couldn’t walk away now. Admitting defeat was not an option. And if she could handle this, handle him as she’d assured herself she could, then wouldn’t that be saying something? Wouldn’t that be a way of proving to herself, as well as him, that she had nothing either to hide or fear?
She dropped back down into her chair and gave him a quick, cool smile. ‘I’m not scared.’
Something like approval lit his eyes, making Millie feel stupidly, ridiculously gratified. Better to get through this evening as quickly as possible.
‘So shall we order?’
‘Oh no, we’re not eating here,’ Chase informed her. Millie stared at him, nonplussed. He smiled, slow, easy and completely in control. ‘We’ll eat somewhere more private.’
‘MORE private?’ Millie’s voice rose in a screech as she stared at him, two angry blotches of colour appearing high on her cheeks. He should be annoyed by now, Chase mused. He should be way past annoyed. The woman was a nutcase. Or at least very high-maintenance. But he wasn’t annoyed, not remotely. He’d enjoyed their little exchange, liked that she gave as good as she got. And he was intrigued by something underneath that hard gloss—something real and deep and alive. He just wasn’t sure what it was, or what he wanted to do with it.
But first, dinner. ‘Relax. I’m not about to about to abduct you, as interesting as that possibility may be.’
‘Not funny.’
She held herself completely rigid, her face still flushed with anger. He’d had no idea his change of dinner plans would provoke such a reaction—no; he had. Of course he had. He just hadn’t realised he’d enjoy it so much. Underneath the overly ironed blouse her chest rose and fell in agitated breaths, making him suspect all that creaseless cotton hid some slender but interesting curves. ‘You’re right, it’s not funny,’ he agreed with as much genuine contrition as he could muster. ‘We barely know each other, and I didn’t intend to make you feel vulnerable.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘We’re not on some mandatory course for creating a safe work environment, Chase. You can skip the PC double-speak.’
He laughed, loving it. Loving that she didn’t play games, not even innocent ones. ‘OK. Fine. By more private, I meant a room in the resort. Chaperoned by wait staff and totally safe. If you’re feeling, you know, threatened.’
‘I have not felt threatened by you for an instant,’ Millie replied, and Chase leaned forward.
‘Are you sure about that?’ he asked softly, knowing he was pressing her in ways she didn’t want to be pressed. He’d seen that shadow of vulnerability in her eyes, felt the sudden, chilly withdrawal as her armour went up. He knew the tactics because he’d used them himself.
It’s not good news, Chase. I’m sorry.
Hell, yeah, he’d used them.
She stared at him for a moment, held his gaze long enough so he could see the warm brown of her eyes. Yes, warm. Like dark honey or rum, and the only warm thing about her. So far.
‘Threatened is the wrong word,’ she finally said, and from the starkness of her tone he knew she was speaking in total truth. ‘You do make me uncomfortable, though.’
‘Do I?’
She gave him a thin-lipped smile. ‘I don’t think anyone likes being told that it’s obvious she eats a bowl of cereal by the sink for dinner.’
Ouch. Put like that, he realised it was insulting. ‘I wouldn’t say obvious.’ Although he sort of would.
‘Only because you’re so perceptive, I suppose?’ she shot back, and he grinned.
‘So shall we go somewhere more private so you can continue to be uncomfortable?’
‘What an appealing proposition.’
‘It appeals to me,’ he said truthfully, and she gave a little shake of her head.
‘Honestly? What do you see in me?’ She sounded curious, but also that thing he dreaded: vulnerable. She really didn’t know the answer, and hell if he did either.
‘What do you see in me?’ he asked back.
She chewed her lip, her eyes shadowing once more. ‘You made me laugh for the first time in—a long time.’
He had the strange feeling she’d been about to give him a specific number. Since when? ‘That’s a lot of pressure.’
Her eyes widened, flaring with warmth again. ‘Why?’
‘Because of course now I have to make you laugh again.’
And for a second he thought he might get a laugh right then and there, and something rose in his chest, an airy bubble of hope and happiness that made absolutely no sense. Still he felt it, rising him high and dizzily higher even though he didn’t move. He grinned. Again, simply because he couldn’t help it.
She shook her head. ‘I’m not that easy.’
‘This conversation just took a very interesting turn.’
‘I meant laughing,’ she protested, and then she did laugh, one ridiculously un-ladylike hiccup of joy that had her clapping her hand over her mouth.
‘There it is,’ Chase said softly. He felt a deep and strangely primal satisfaction, the kind he usually only felt when he’d nailed an architectural design. He’d made her laugh. Twice.
She stared at him, her hand still clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide, warm and soft—if eyes could even be considered soft. Chase felt a stirring deep inside—low down, yes, he felt that basic attraction, but something else. Something not quite so low down and far more alarming, caused by this hard woman with