Page 6 of The Charmer's Gambit
“Good thing I didn’t take that bet,” he replied, grinning that cocky grin of his. “But I have hope, Miss Dawson. We’ll work together.”
“Uh-huh.” I patted his muscular chest and immediately regretted touching him. He radiated a heat that left me feeling so cold. I couldn’t even remember the last time I let a man entertain me. It wasn’t that I disliked sex. Quite the opposite. I loved it.But after the last time, I swore never to take a man to my bed again no matter how much I desired him. I refused to let anyone else get hurt as a result of knowing me.
Will cocked his hip against the wall while I slid my key into the lock. “Have a little faith, darlin’. We’ll get there.”
I stepped inside and turned to face him. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
He braced his arms over the door frame and stared down at me. His pupils dilated as they dropped to my lips and slid back up. “Evan’s father once called my desire to own and run a winery a ‘pipe dream’ and insisted I give up. Now that ‘pipe dream’ is worth eight figures, and you know why? Because I didn’t quit.”
He dropped his arms and stepped just over the line into my personal space. I had to look up to hold his stare, which put our lips a few inches apart at best. This was a new tactic, and it halted the air in my lungs.
“I never quit when I want something, Miss Dawson.” He pressed even closer, his breath feathering over my parted lips, but still not touching me. “And as I’ve said, I want you.” He stood like that a moment longer, lingering, taunting, and making me wonder what he would do next.
Will he kiss me? Do I want him to?
Maybe . . .
But he pulled back and flashed that dimpled grin at me. “Have a good night, darlin’. I’ll see you soon.” He turned away with a playful wink.
Well, hell.
I stood gaping after him as he strode down the hall, hands in his jean pockets, his shoulders straightened with confidence.Arrogant man.
“I’ll still say no!” I called after him.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’,” he returned.
I shut the door with a shake of my head and a smile on my face. This game, or whatever it was, had started out as annoying but seemed to be heading into entertaining territory. As long as I kept refusing him, of course. Once I gave in, the fun would end.
I took two steps toward the kitchen, when a knock sounded behind me. “Oh, good grief. I am not ready for another round, Mershano,” I said as I opened the door. “My answer . . .” My smile died as I met a pair of icy blue eyes that were nothing like Will’s dark ones.
“Ryan,” I breathed.
“Hi, baby girl.”
2
Political Aspirations
My eyes darted to the chain on the door. I had it installed for moments like this, but being with Will had put my guard down. I didn’t even think to check before I opened the door either.
Ryan didn’t ask if he could come in. He never did. Just pushed the heavy wood forward and me backward along with it. He looked immaculate in his designer suit, his brown hair styled to perfection and his demeanor intimidating. It used to be a look that made my mouth water. Now all it did was push ice through my veins.
Six months.
We went six months without seeing each other. No calls, no notes, no nasty emails or unexpected late-night visits. I had taken it as a sign that maybe, finally, he was letting me go.
I walked away from him three years ago. It took considerable effort and help from an old friend to do it, but it happened. Ryan had tried for weeks to force me “home,” showing up every day at my friend’s apartment with a new taunt. It’d been the hardest months of my life, but I’d survived.
Because of Mark. . .
If he hadn’t been home that day. . .
But he was.
The memory of that afternoon elicited a grimace, as it always did. I hated that I couldn’t escape Ryan on my own, but I also acknowledged that reaching out to Mark for help was what empowered me. It gave me back my freedom. Or at least a semblance of it.
But Ryan had it in his head that he was the one who proposed a temporary break, which happened several monthsafterI originally left him.
