Page 36 of The Exception

That whole “chemistry test.” Just thinking of it had my skin growing warm. And I’d definitely spent some quality time with my vibrator last night just so I could fall asleep.

“Assumed you were crushing on him. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you. He’s hot in that stern, dominating way. I mean…” She flopped back on the couch. “He seems so buttoned-up, but I bet he’s a freak in the sheets.”

“Okay.” I rolled my eyes, tossing one of the throw pillows at her. “That’s enough.”

“Oh, come on.” She caught it and sank down on the couch, clutching it to her chest. “You can’t tell me you aren’t dying to know if I’m right.”

I barked out a laugh, though mostly it was to hide my discomfort. After what had happened last night, I had a feeling she was right. But I snapped my mouth shut.

“You sure you don’t know? I mean…you didn’t come back to the room untilreallylate last night. And you were only wearing a robe.”

“Because I fell into the pool,” I protested. “And he offered to have my clothes laundered by the hotel staff.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s it.”

“So, if you didn’t sleep with him…” She sounded disappointed. “Then what did happen?”

I lifted a shoulder as I finished putting on my heels, a pair of strappy gold sandals that I adored. I hadn’t had an opportunity to wear them in a while since most of my days were spent in dusty overalls, work boots, and shirts dappled with paint. “We talked.”

My eye snagged on the bandage on my ankle, and I stilled, remembering how Graham’s hands had felt on my skin. His entire demeanor had softened, his touch gentle and caring. Lingering.

“Right.” She crossed her arms over her chest, jolting me from the memory. “‘Talked,’” she said, using air quotes.

My cheeks heated, and I felt as if she could read my thoughts. “We did!” I protested, perhaps a bit too ardently.

“For hours?” Her tone was rife with skepticism, as was her expression.

“We hadn’t seen each other in two years. We had a lot to catch up on. And he had questions about my blog.”

I was being intentionally vague. Jo was my best friend, but if Graham and I went through with our crazy plan, there was a lot on the line—twenty million dollars and the chance to make my dream a reality.

Her eyes widened. “Shit. He knows you’re Gilded Lily? Was he pissed?”

I lifted a shoulder. “He wasn’t pleased.”

“But he still invited you to dinner tonight.”

“Mm-hmm.” I pulled out the compact mirror from my purse, busying myself with reapplying my lip gloss. “Do you think I should change?”

“You look hot,” Jo said. “But I didn’t have to tell you that. And no, I don’t think you should change. Not unless you want to.”

There was a knock at the door—short and authoritative.Oh good. He’s here.

I took a deep breath and slid my hands down my dress. “Looks like it’s too late to change even if I wanted to.”

She headed for the door. “He’s going to have a heart attack.”

I felt like I might have one myself.

I told myself it was because my future hung on this dinner. But it was more than that. And after last night, I wasn’t sure what to think. About his proposal. Our almost-kiss. This spontaneous dinner invitation. Any of it.

I knew what Graham’s schedule was like. Hell, I’d been responsible for managing it for a year. I knew he maximized his working hours for efficiency and productivity. He rarely did anything spontaneous, unless it was important. And this dinner—not to mention his marriage proposal—was nothing if not spontaneous.

I’d spent the past hour getting ready for it, and I still felt completely unprepared. Before I could back out or make up some excuse for not going, Jo answered the door.

Graham’s deep voice reverberated through me from the hall as he introduced himself to her. And when he stepped into the suite, I stilled. Graham looked good. Too good.

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