Page 2 of A Dangerous Proposal

Madison stared at them for a minute, their overt douchiness momentarily leaving her speechless.

“Are you for real?” she deadpanned.

Paisley-shirt shrugged undeterred. “You looked tense, and you’re too sexy for that. I thought I’d help you out. Give you a compliment. Cheer you up.”

Madison resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Tiny-sweater smirked next to his friend. “It’s a party. Don’t you like parties?”

Madison glared at him. “No.”

Paisley-shirt chuckled. “C’mon. A gorgeous girl like you shouldn’t frown so much. Smile. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Let me get you a drink. I promise we can help you relax.”

“No, thanks.” She’d hoped her borderline rude tone would broadcast how uninterested she was, but they apparently lacked even an ounce of self-awareness.

Paisley-shirt leaned in further, and Madison’s lip curled as his liquor-soaked breath assaulted her.

“Just one.” He winked at his friend. “We’re celebrating tonight…” He let his words trail off with the obvious hope she’d ask about what. “My Ferrari was just delivered at the dealership, and my divorce is final as of yesterday.”

“Am I supposed to care?”

The only thing worse than one annoying guy at a bar was one trying to show off in front of his friends.

Madison turned her shoulder, not bothering to wait for an answer, but the sudden hard hand on her forearm sent anger racing through her.

“Get your hand off me,” she hissed, meeting his eyes. After the day she’d had, he was messing with the wrong woman.

“Ah, don’t be like that. Let me buy you a drink.”

“I’m meeting someone.”

“No reason we can’t keep you company until they get here, is there?”

She stared at him.

Fine, the hard way it is.

“Are you stupid or just oblivious to social cues?” They gaped at her but didn’t respond. “Go away.”

“Hey, I just wanted to talk to you. You don’t have to be such a bitch.”

There was little this man could do in the crowded restaurant, so Madison allowed all the frustration brewing inside her to bubble over.

“Why should I be friendly? I don’t know you, and I’ve told you I’m not interested. Now get your fucking hand off me.”

The hand tightened painfully for a second before it released, and she resisted the urge to rub the spot.

“Frigid psycho.” Paisley-shirt’s face reddened.

Madison rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I’m the problem.”

“Fuck you.” Tiny-sweater loomed over her, and Paisley-shirt’s complexion began to rival his blazer.

A glass of champagne suddenly appeared in front of her face, and she reflexively took it before it could spill.

“Angel.” A deep, lightly accented voice, barely audible with the surrounding noise, reached her ears, and then she was facing the broad suit-jacketed back of a man as he positioned himself in front of her, forcing Paisley-shirt and Tiny-sweater to step back.

“Go away.” His tone was soft, but the command in it was undeniable, setting off incredibly inappropriate flares low in her belly.

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