Page 23 of The Encounter
“Well, no. Yes. No.” Her face flamed. “It’s just I’m awkward around people I don’t know very well. I mean, we know each other in the sexual sense, but I’m just—” Her eyes widened, and she covered her face with her hands. “—I’m making this worse,” she muttered.
His lips quirked at the corner. “I get what you mean.”
She peered at him between her fingers. “You do?”
He lightly took hold of her wrists and tugged her hands away from her face and then interlaced their fingers. “I do.”
Her body pressed into his, and they stared into each other’s eyes as a jolt of electricity shot straight through him, stirring his dick. He wanted to lean forward and kiss her, but didn’t trust himself to stop there.
Keep it in your pants, dude. Keep it in your pants.
He cleared his throat. “So I didn’t want to make assumptions and order food for you. I got a menu for the nice Italian place in town. I hope that’s okay.”
A smile broke across her face. “That’s more than okay. I love Italian food.”
He reluctantly broke away from her and brought her over to his kitchen, where the menu sat on the counter. Maddie looked over it and told him what she wanted.
“You’re welcome to look around while I place the order.”
She nodded and walked off, while he pulled out his cell phone and dialed up the Italian restaurant.
This woman. This woman did not know how wild she could make him. He took a deep breath while he watched as she sauntered around the room, her hips swaying as if beckoning him near. She turned her head toward him and a small smile crossed her lips. When he ended the call, she spoke.
“Nice place.”
She acted as if it were every day that she stood in a multimillion dollar condo. She acted as if she belonged there. And he ate it up.
He shifted to adjust the growing erection in his pants.
“Thanks.” It wasn’t like him to be at a loss for words. Having to talk to the press regularly made it easy for him to stir up conversations with people, but she clearly wasn’t impressed by the fact that he was a billionaire.
And he loved it.
He wasn’t proud of the fact that he could use his status to get whatever and whomever he wanted, but Maddie presented a challenge. She was going to take work. He knew he wanted her. His job was to find out if she wanted him.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
“That would be great. Thank you.”
She wandered around the room, looking at the art hanging on the walls. He wasn’t much for decorating, so he had hired an interior decorator. But if there was one thing he wanted to choose himself, it was the art. His decorator chose the rest of the decor based on the art he had purchased.
He watched as she stopped in front of a Thomas Kinkade painting, admiring the cottage. She leaned in close and then backed up. She turned toward him, her eyes wide.
“Is this an original?”
He nodded and carried their wine glasses over to where she stood and offered her one. “Yes, I’m quite proud of that piece.”
“How did you get it? I thought they became difficult to find after he passed away.” She stared in admiration at the piece.
“It wound up in an estate auction. I thought it was a print, but wanted to find out for sure. So I went. I really lucked out.”
He watched her inspecting the painting. She clearly had a love of art—something they had in common.
“So you love art?” he asked, despite knowing the answer to the question.
“Very much. My Dad is—” she paused, “was a painter.” She gave him a tight smile and turned back toward the pieces on the wall, continuing her slow walk down the hallway to look at each piece.
The pain that crossed her face was candid at the mention of her father. The want to ask more surged through him, but he knew it wasn’t his place. That was something he would ask at a later date, when they knew each other better.
