Page 79 of While You Were Spying

“You’ll call me husband if you don’t stop moving like that.” The heat in his voice immobilized her instantly. She tried very hard not to think about the solid length of him beneath her.

“I’ll not agree to this betrothal ball,” she said stubbornly, attempting to return her focus to the matter at hand.

He gave her a dark look. “Yes, you will. And you’ll smile at me, flirt with me, and generally give everyone the impression that you’re madly in love with me.”

“No, I won’t! What purpose will that serve except to titillate the neighbors and cause that much more scandal when we call the betrothal off.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, that’s a surprise!”

“What I do care about is your safety. Does your reputation mean more to you than your life?”

Now she was the one who had no response.

The hand on her waist began to move in a slow circle, tingling her hip and tickling her lower abdomen. She should move away. She should tell him to stop, but she couldn’t seem to manage those words either.

She said the first thing that came to her mind. “Even if the attacker comes to the ball, there will be hundreds of people there. You’ll never find him." Her voice hitched on the last word as his hand skimmed the edge of her abdomen. “And he wouldn’t be so imprudent as to assault anyone with so many others around.”

“Then, at the very least, we’ve spent an evening indulging ourselves in your neighbors’ congratulations, good food, and excellent wine.” His roving hand rested on the small of her back.

She felt a moment of relief when he ceased caressing her, but it was short-lived. His fingers on her lower back stretched as if testing the flare of her hips. She curled her toes to keep from responding.

His eyes softened, and his amber gaze searched her face. From the way he looked at her, she knew he was perfectly aware of the effect of his touch. His hand dipped lower, almost grazing her thigh, and she barely managed to choke out her next words. “You should stop.”

“I should, yes.”

This was her last chance. If she didn’t leave now, what happened next would be her fault. “I’m leaving now, Winterbourne.” She struggled, and this time—to her disappointment—he let her wriggle away. She stumbled to her feet, but he followed. Before she could scoot away, he braced his hands on the table behind her, boxing her in.

She took three shallow breaths and tamped down the urge to press herself into him.

“My name is Ethan.”

He stepped closer, his body brushing against hers, and she inhaled sharply.

“Fine!” She gave him a little shove, weak and ineffective but all she could manage at the moment. “I’m leaving, Ethan.”

He frowned, ignoring her feeble protest. “Don’t say it like that. No one will believe that.”

“No one will believe you want to marry me no matter how skillfully I act. Everyone will think it’s ridiculous.”

His brow creased in that rare puzzled expression she found at once so adorable and so vexing. She looked away quickly, wishing she could take the words back.

“You implied that earlier. Why is it ridiculous?”

She bit her lip and stared out the window at her hospital. “Don’t pretend not to know.”

“I’m not pretending.”

She glanced at him, surprised that he seemed genuinely confused. She tossed her hands out in frustration. “Everyone knows that a man like you would never be interested in a woman like me.”

His bewildered expression softened into understanding.

“Is that what you think?” His low voice made the tiny hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck stand up.

“It’s what everyone will think.” She stared down at his shirt and concentrated on the feel of the table edge behind her. She didn’t want to see the truth of her statement in his eyes.

“I doubt it. More likely, everyone will see how much I want you.”

---