Page 178 of Toxic Temptation
“To the St. Raphael’s Gala. It’s this fundraiser thing the hospital does every year. Black tie. Boring speeches. Overly expensive wine. Sometimes, we get local celebrities, but usually sort of lame ones, like the Channel 2 weather guy or whatever. I mean,he’s nice, but—well, whatever, I’m just saying…” I’m rambling again, but I can’t stop. “Like I said, if you’re not interested?—”
Kovan holds up a hand to shut me up. “Are you asking me on a date, Dr. Fairfax?”
The way he says it, low and rough, turns my knees into wet noodles. “I’m asking you tobemy date. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “One implies… implications. The other is just two people attending an event together. Key distinction, really. Very easy to overlook. But important.”
His smile spreads across his face, slow and devastating. He’s teasing me, I realize. That thought makes my insides go warm and squirmy. “And which one is this?”
I stare at him, trapped between honesty and self-preservation, wriggling like a worm on a hook. “It’s… I don’t know.”
“Then let me make this easy for you.” He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne and see the gold flecks in his green eyes. “I would be honored to be your date tonight, Vesper.The kind with implications.”
My heart stutters. “… Oh.”
“Is eight o’clock too late?”
“Eight is perfect. I need time to get ready.”
“Good.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “I’ll meet you downstairs at eight, then.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He drops his hand and steps back into his office, but his eyes stay on mine. “Oh, and Vesper?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
The door closes with a soft click, leaving me alone in the hallway with a racing pulse and the sudden, desperate need to call Charity so I can scream, cry, laugh, and figure out what the hell I’m going to wear.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I announce the moment Charity answers her phone.
“Hello to you, too, sunshine. What’s the crisis?”
“Kovan said yes. To the gala. Tonight. And every dress I own makes me look like a nun who’s given up on life and thinks Versace sounds like the name of an STD.”
Charity’s laugh is pure delight. “Oh, this is happening. Finally. Where are you?”
“Home. Panicking.”
“Stop panicking. Start moving. Meet me at Dolce & Gabbana in twenty minutes.”
“Meet youwhere? Charity, I can’t?—”
“Actually, you can.” There’s rustling on her end, like she’s digging through her purse. “Funny thing. About ten minutes ago, this gorgeous bald man showed up at my door with a shiny black Amex and very specific instructions.”
My jaw drops. “He did not.”
“Oh, he did. Kovan Krayev apparently knows you better than you know yourself.”
“I can’t use his credit card!”
“You can and you will,” she insists. “This is what men do when they care about women, Vesper. They want to spoil them. Let him spoil you. God knows you deserve it.”
“But—”
