Page 21 of Just a Little Tempted

I laughed, looping my arm through hers. “You never give up, do you?”

“And you love that about me.”

“I do.” I shook my head, still smiling. “But you’re barking up the wrong tree here. Simon and I are never going to happen.”

She was right about one thing, though. I did like him, far more than I should, terrible idea or not. And sometimes, I even wondered what it would be like if things were different. If Simon and I had met somewhere else, under different circumstances. At a coffee shop, maybe, or a friend’s party. Somewhere he wasn’t signing my paychecks and I wasn’t his employee.

Would he still be so guarded? Would I still catch those fleeting glimpses of heat in his eyes, or would he actually act on them?

The thought made my chest ache with a longing I had no business feeling.

But reality was reality. Simon was my boss, and I needed this job far too much to risk it on a fantasy. Whatever attraction simmered between us—if it even existed outside my own imagination—would have to stay buried.

Some doors were better left closed, no matter how badly you wanted to see what was on the other side.

CHAPTER NINE

Raina

The ballroom décortook my breath away. I’d known the gala would be impressive—this was one of Manhattan’s grandest hotels, after all—but I still paused just inside the entrance to absorb it all. The space stretched before me like something from a fairy tale, with white marble floors gleaming beneath three magnificent chandeliers dripping with hand-cut crystals. Deep crimson drapes hung between French doors that opened onto a terrace, beyond which I glimpsed a garden illuminated by soft golden lights.

Tables filled half the room, draped in crisp white linens and centered with glass vases overflowing with orchids and hydrangeas. Beyond them, there was an open area in front of a stage where a string quartet played, their music weaving through the hum of conversation.

I was right on time, but the gala was already in full swing. Men in tuxedos and women in elegant gowns moved through the space, sampling hors d’oeuvres from silver trays carried by waiters in black and white uniforms. One stopped beside me, offering his tray with a practiced smile.

“What is this?” I asked, reaching for one of the delicate morsels.

“Wagyu beef carpaccio on an herb-infused crostini,” he replied.

I took a bite, and flavor exploded on my tongue—herbs and butter and meat that was simultaneously savory and subtlysweet. It was possibly the best thing I’d ever eaten, and I’d only just arrived.

Another waiter passed with champagne flutes, and I claimed one before stepping deeper into the ballroom, scanning faces for Simon. He’d offered to pick me up, but I’d declined and had driven myself. Having him show up at my door, then seeing me off at the end of the night…it would have felt too much like a date, and I needed to keep my head on straight tonight.

Better to meet here and say goodbye outside the ballroom when the evening ended. Clean. Professional. No awkward moment of uncertainty about how to part ways.

But I couldn’t stop wondering…would he walk me out at the end of the night and escort me to my car? Shake my hand? Hug me?

Kiss me?

No. Absolutely not. My thoughts had no business going there.

I made it about halfway through the room before I spotted him.

Simon was attractive in his everyday business suits, that was undeniable. But tonight, in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, he was something else entirely. The black jacket hugged his broad shoulders, emphasizing the powerful build I’d tried so hard not to notice over the past three weeks. The sharp lines of the cut drew the eye down from his chest to his trim waist, and I found myself tracing that path with my gaze before I could stop myself.

My eyes traveled upward, past the crisp white shirt, over the strong column of his throat, and found him already watching me. The riveted look in his eyes made my breath catch.

I was still learning to read this man, but there was no mistaking what I saw now. His smoldering gaze moved over me in a slow, deliberate survey, traveling from my face down thelength of the sapphire gown and back up again. Everywhere his attention landed, my skin tingled with awareness.

I’d stopped walking without realizing it, waiting for him to come to me. He crossed the distance between us with unhurried steps, and I took a long sip of champagne, hoping the cool liquid might do something about the heat spreading through my body.

It didn’t help.

“Raina.” His voice came out lower than usual, rougher. “You look… nice.”

Not exactly poetry. But his eyes—dark and burning with something he was clearly fighting to contain—told me he thought I looked far better thannice.

“You’re not looking too bad yourself,” I managed, matching his understatement. Safer that way. For both of us.