“You stood me up for dinner.”
“I’m not interested.” He looks at me with no change in expression. It’s as if he hadn’t heard what I just said. “Your idea of wooing and my idea of wooing couldn’t be further apart.”
He snickers under his breath finding humor in my statement. Arrogant bastard.
“I don’t want to woo you, Reese. I want to fuck you,” he says casually.
We both start toward one another. “Hello, Mr. David. Fancy seeing you here,” I tease.
“Miss Turner, nice to see you again.”
“Please, call me Reese.”
“I’d love to call you, but you’re unwilling.” He raises a single brow in silent question.
“I don’t recall you asking,”
“Ah, yes. We’re back to that whole question demanding thing again I see,” he says playfully.
“Ah, yes, I suppose we are. Have you learned how to ask yet?”
His crooked grin etches several small laugh lines that delicately outline the side of his perfect mouth, making him sexier.
“Probably not, but I’ll give it a try. Have dinner with me.” His face stretches into a proud grin.
I smile up at his pleased expression. “Mr. David, I still didn’t hear a question.” I give him my best wide-eyed innocent look.
“Okay, help me. Tell me how it’s supposed to sound.” A glimmer of amusement dances in his eyes as he toys with me.
“A question works like this. Will you have dinner with me?”
“Why yes, Reese, I would love to have dinner with you,” he answers mischievously. “I’ll pick you up at 6:30.”
I quietly chuckle at the twisting of my words. “No, I was merely showing you how it’s done. I wasn’t really asking you out.”
“Okay, we’ll stay in. I’ll be at your place at 6:30. I’ll bring the wine.”
I stand there dumbfounded as he winks, turns on his heel, and walks toward the exit.
I exhale loudly, making the quick decision to be honest. “Because I dated him.”
“Were you serious with him?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the road.
“I thought so,” I reply just above a whisper as I recall the pain so vividly.
“What does that mean?” James asks, alternating his attention from me to the road.
“He’s the only other man I’ve ever loved,” I say weakly, thoughts running rampant in my head. Not changing direction, I feel the power of his sports car hugging the winding asphalt under it.
“Who’s the other?”
My head snaps in his direction, not understanding the question. “What?” I ask.
“You said he’s the only other man you’ve loved. Who’s the other?” He slows the car and pulls over to the side of the road. He faces me, waiting for my answer.
My heart thuds strong in my chest, beating my rib cage from inside. I haven’t told him I loved him, but not because I don’t. I look up to meet his twinkling blue eyes.
“You. You are the only man I love. I thought what I felt for him was love until I met and fell in love with you.”
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