Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
But watching Tacker pull Nora in close to him for a dance, I realize I have the perfect opportunity for some alone time with Clarke. I haven’t forgotten she made it clear she’s only in this for the two dates I won from her.
I move around the table, come up behind Pepper so Clarke sees me, and gift her with a charming smile. Her eyes rise to meet mine, causing Pepper and Willow to shift to see what has her attention.
I hold my hand out. “Would you like to dance?”
I half expect her to say, “not really,” which could very well be a joke, or, equally as plausible, could be the truth. To my pleasant surprise, she places her hand in mine and gracefully pushes out of her chair.
The weight of stares as I lead her to the dance floor is palpable. Tonight, almost every one of my teammates has managed to pull me aside or catch me away from Clarke to inquire about being seen with the same woman more than once. I took a ton of ribbing from the guys, and I got a lot of sappy, romantic looks from their women. Brooke even managed to corner me to tell me how much she likes Clarke, and how she hopes we’ll be happy together.
I didn’t have the heart or the guts to tell them Clarke doesn’t really want to be here, has some sort of grudge against men, and I’ll most likely never see her again.
But at least I have this dance right now.
The floor fills up with other couples, and I lead Clarke right to the middle. As a defenseman, I can be rough and tumble on the ice, but I’ve always been a smooth dancer. While I love clubbing and dancing to a much faster beat, there’s nothing wrong with a slow dance and a beautiful woman held captive in my arms.
It’s the closest Clarke and I have been physically since we’ve met. I take advantage of the situation to wrap my arm completely around her, pulling her in close. When I take her hand in mine, she rests hers on my shoulder.
At first, as we’re swaying, she doesn’t look at me. Pretending to be interested in her surroundings, she averts her eyes to the side, smiling at those who dance around us. That’s fine by me—at least for a bit. I don’t mind looking at her. Even with her glasses covering a good chunk of her face, there’s still plenty to stare at that’s awfully pretty.
“So…” I finally drawl, trying to get her attention. She swings her gaze up. “Are you really going to stick to your guns and refuse to go out with me past this date?”
She blinks in surprise. “You mean you want to go out with me again?”
She sounds so stunned I take a quiet, reflective moment to ascertain if I truly do. The question was sort of spontaneous and now that I think about it, I have to wonder why I would want to.
Clarke has kept me at arm’s length, only opening up in bits and pieces. I had to essentially force her to go out with me, and at this moment, I don’t even see sex as an option any time soon. Which, let’s face it, is my primary motivator in taking a woman out.
And yet, I find myself admitting, “I’d very much like to take you out again. Without having to win it from you on a dare or a bet.”
Her gaze slides away from mine, and she looks around the room. Chewing on her lower lip, she thinks about my offer. I can tell it’s this environment that has her doubting if she should.
“Hey,” I say, putting my fingertips to her chin and forcing her eyes to mine. “Why don’t you tell me about whatever it is that’s holding you back? I know there’s something in particular.”
Her eyes move to mine, and in a moment of brutal honesty I wasn’t expecting, she says, “Something happened to me in the national limelight by someone famous. It was incredibly hurtful and completely humiliating. Unfortunately, because of that experience, I tend to lump all famous people—celebrities, sports stars, what have you—into the same deceitful category. I know it’s not right. It’s not fair. But I just have incredible reservations about getting involved with someone who has the power to hurt me like that again.”
I am so stunned I actually stop moving. My feet plant solidly on the dance floor, my hands finding my way to Clarke’s waist to hold her still. “What happened?” I ask, the concern in my tone evident.
She lets out a deep sigh, shaking her head. “I really don’t want to get into it here—”
Enough said. Taking her hand, I lead her from the dance floor.
“Where are we going?” she asks, almost needing to jog to keep up with my long strides.