A shiver swept over her, and she didn’t let go. She wouldn’t have been able to even if she tried. “Benjamin…”

“Yeah. I know. It’s a bad idea.” His nostrils flared. “Let’s go mingle. The sooner we get this night over with, the better.”

“How long do we have to stay?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he grabbed the drink off the table. He swallowed it in one big gulp then set it down. “Until they all see us, and realize we’re engaged.”

He offered his arm, and she held him close to her body, stealing a quick glance up at him. His offer burned in her mind. Even if they only had a short romance, what was so wrong with seizing the moment…

And having a little fun with a man she was desperately attracted to?

She caught her breath, because if she did this, went through with fulfilling her desire, it would change everything. Tonight would decide how the rest of their relationship went, real or fake. Would she play it safe, like always, and tell him she wanted to remain friends? Or would she let him in, even though she shouldn’t?

Guess she was about to find out because, despite her inner voice jumping up and down and screaming no…

She wanted to invite him in.

Chapter Eleven

The night had been one tedious conversation after another, followed by endless snide remarks about his engagement to someone no one had ever heard of. Not even the open bar had helped dull the monotonous company. If one good thing had come of tonight, it had been Maggie.

She’d handled the night with grace and even managed to win over a few of the older members of society while she’d been at it. The younger ones had been too busy judging them from afar to actually talk to her, but if they were too blind to see how special she was, that was their loss.

After that odd encounter with his ex, and Maggie’s even odder reaction to it, the night had been fairly hiccup free. She had remained by his side the whole evening, and the few times she’d wandered off, she hadn’t hesitated to come right back and claim him as her own. Repeatedly. He was proud to call her his.

Even if she thought it was only for pretend.

In the car on the ride home, she shifted in her seat and fidgeted with her purse. She’d been a nervous mess ever since they pulled away from The Frick, probably because of what he’d said after that kiss he couldn’t stop thinking about. That had been on him. She wasn’t ready, but when she’d kissed him like that, he’d forgotten all about rules and patience. He wanted her. She wanted him, too.

Sometimes, when her soft lips were pressed to his and her hands were on him, it was hard to remember that she didn’t want to want him. That for her, it was all for show.

It killed him that he had to play it safe with her, when all he wanted to do was grab her, kiss her, and show her exactly how well the two of them would fit together. He’d never fought this hard to get a woman before, but the thing was, he didn’t even mind. She was worth every second he spent trying to prove she should trust him.

She might want him, but she wouldn’t act on those impulses, because she “knew” how it would end. He disagreed. She was all rational thought and consequences, and he had to respect that. No matter how badly he ached to make her cry out his name again…

With more than just his fucking knee.

He sat forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. “You did great tonight, darling.”

She startled before turning to him. The force of those gray eyes of hers stole the rest of his words out of his mouth. Her hair looked even softer than it had earlier, and he ached to touch it. “Thanks. I think it went fairly well.”

“It did.” He smiled. “Thank you, again, for doing this. There are more exciting ways to spend your nights than with snobs who have nothing better to do with their lives than gossip about everyone else’s.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t mind doing it…for you.”

That’s what made her so unique. His fingers itched to touch her, to show her just how special she made him feel, but he didn’t move a damn muscle. He’d already crossed the line once tonight, when he misinterpreted her kiss to mean she wanted something more. Mistaking her intentions twice would be unacceptable.

When the car stopped outside her apartment, he got out and walked around to her side, waving his driver off. He could damn well open the door for the woman who had done so much for him, in such a short time, and asked for nothing in return.

Once she stood on the sidewalk, hugging herself, he closed the door. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five for Rockefeller Center, and then two on Sunday for the theatre.”

“Okay.” She hesitated, not moving toward her stairs. “Look, about earlier, when I kissed you, and you said—”

He held a hand up. “I got caught up in the moment. You made it quite clear you want to keep this thing between us platonic, and I shouldn’t have pushed for more.”

“But—”

He locked eyes with her. “I’m sorry, and I take it back. All of it.”

“Okay.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Well, then…good night, I guess.”

He inclined his head. “Good night.”

She still didn’t move.

Neither did he.

The tension built between them, fast and thick. If this were any other woman, he’d think she wanted him to kiss her, but she’d made it pretty damn clear she didn’t want that at all. But, holy shit, he did.

“Do you want to come in?” she finally asked. “Have a drink?”

Yes. Hell yes. “I do. But if I come in there, I’m following through on every promise I’ve made, and you’ll be screaming my name within the hour.”

She cocked her head. “Is that a promise?”

“Damn right it is, which is why I should leave.” He reached out and grasped her chin, unable to resist. “You’re not ready, darling. I shouldn’t have pushed you earlier.”

She shrugged, still clinging to her purse as if it could save her. They stared at one another, the tension mounting even higher than his heart rate. It was as if she silently asked him to do something—anything. What? He had no idea. He didn’t speak “woman.”

“Like I said…” She tugged on her hair. “Wanna come in?”

He’d resisted the first time. He wouldn’t be able to do so twice. “Hell yeah.”

He waved his driver off and followed her up the stairs. Her hips swung with each step, as if she sought to torture him with the very thing he couldn’t have, since she’d more than likely change her mind before he could kiss her. And yet he followed her inside anyway because he was a masochistic asshole like that.

She flicked the lights on and glanced over her shoulder. “Beer?”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging out of his coat. He laid it across the chair where she’d dropped hers. “Thanks.”

She went into the kitchen, and he wandered around the living room. The picture on the shelf above the sofa was askew, so he nudged it straight before settling on the couch. She had a bunch of photos of herself with what he could only assume were her parents, a few of her with her roommate, but none of them had men in them.

He wasn’t sure why that made him happy, but it did.

When she came back into the living room carrying two open beers, he smiled at her. She kicked off her heels but still wore her dress, and was as gorgeous as always. He took the beer she offered him, and copied her, taking his shoes off and sliding them side by side under the table with his foot.

She sat down beside him, turning toward him and tucking her foot under her. Her knee touched his thigh, and he stiffened. Resting her head on a hand, she leaned against the back of the couch and smiled at him. “So…”

He raised a brow. “So?”

“How do you think tomorrow—?” She broke off, pressed her lips together, and shook her head. “You know what? Screw this.”