Page 41 of Beyond Question

The night would be perfect, if not for the walking toupee sitting beside Paige.

This literary agent she’s with has an annoying guffaw of a laugh, and when he speaks, his quips and anecdotes are as lackluster as the overcooked filet I’ve been pushing around my plate for the last twenty minutes. I have little doubt that hisjokesare right out of one of those unfortunate books you mightfind on the back of the toilet in someone’s guest bathroom. Right beneath a woodenlive laugh lovesign or a painting of an outhouse from the olden days.

Even worse, Paige’sdatelaughs whenever she laughs, like he’s trying to impress her—which irks me more than it should.

But thepiece de resistanceis when Chuck tries to do something Paige can do for herself. Whether it was pulling out her chair for her when we were seated or trying to refill her water glass just a few moments ago, the looks she gives him are full of pure indignation and fire—and I think I’ve unlocked a new kink.

Who am I kidding? Everything about this woman feels like a new kink to me. From her silvery-gray hair to the way she dresses, the fact that she’s slightly older than me, not a decade or more my junior.

Confidence that takes my breath away.

Her no-nonsense attitude.

The wisdom in her pale blue eyes…

The way her lips twitch when she's trying so hard not to give me that knockout smile.

She’s like no one I’ve ever dated before.

The intensity with which I want her is unlike anything I’ve felt before.

I know it’s notlove; it can’t be love this early on. But it’s something intense and intoxicating, something I want to explore—

The microphone squeals with feedback, a painful sound that silences the room. The host of tonight’s event, some Nobel prize winner whose name I can’t recall, winces as he adjusts it. He apologizes and then announces the last award of the night, the Rising Star in Romance Award—and the one I’ve been most looking forward to.

Then, the spotlight shines on Paige, and it’s obvious that this woman shouldalwaysbe the focus of any room she’s in.

Her bumbling idiot of a date stands first, then attempts to help her out of her seat. I have to cover my mouth to hide the bark of laughter that slips past my lips when she glares at him.

If looks could kill, Chuck would have Xs for eyes and we’d all be humming along to a bugle boy playing “Taps”.

I lift my glass of whiskey to my lips to hide the grin.

Paige’s eyes find mine and her steps falter as time slows to a stop. There’s something different in her gaze, an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint. It makes hope swell in my chest.

I tilt my head and she opens her mouth as if to say something, but then she quickly recovers and makes her way to the stage.

I glance over at her date and nearly laugh at the pout on his face.

What a schmuck.

“What was that about?” Cabot says as he leans toward me to be heard over the roar of applause.

“Hm?” I don’t even have to feign confusion. I don’t know what just happened, only that something did.

There was a shift between us, clear as day.

Cabot’s eyes narrow, but then the applause dies down and our attention is drawn to the stage.

And the striking woman at the podium.

She holds the award in her hand, a funny look in her eyes. It’s a mix of wonder, pride, and a hint of that fiery indignation I can’t get enough of.

“Thank you,” Paige says into the microphone. She doesn’t look at the audience, just continues staring at the award in her hand like she can’t decide if she wants to hold it up in the air or smash it against the podium.

I lean forward, literally and figuratively on the edge of my seat. Something is about to go down.

When she finally looks out into the audience, the look in her eyes makes my cock jerk to life. There’s so much disdain in that pale blue gaze, I can practically taste it in the air.

---