Amber Page - Dating the Enemy

“Yes, but I’ve never been to one. Tell me what to expect.”

Just then the car stopped. “We’ve arrived,” the chauffeur said.

“Too late.” Nick slid across the seat until his thigh pressed against hers. “But there’s really only one thing you need to know.”

Jessie swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “What’s that?”

“You’re going to be the most beautiful woman in the room.”

That was so far away from what she’d expected to hear she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The heat in his sapphire gaze pinned her to the spot. He bent his head down toward hers and her pulse jumped in response. He hovered centimeters away, his eyes still locked on hers.

“I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time,” he said. “But if you get in my way I’ll still crush you like a bug.”

She gasped, outraged. But before she could think of a suitably cutting retort the driver opened the door.

His face turned into a blank mask as he sat up straight.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.

She slid out of the car, gulping the fresh, non-Nick-scented air to clear her head. Obviously he knew the effect he had on her and wasn’t afraid to use it. But now that she knew he intended to play that game, he wouldn’t be able to surprise her again.

This was business. And he was the enemy. It wouldn’t do to forget that, even if they were playing nice for the evening.

Seconds later, Nick appeared beside her.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He nodded and set off up the marble stairs, not looking to see if she was following. She did her best to keep up, but the five-inch stilettos she was wearing made it difficult. At the door he turned, and looked momentarily chagrined when he saw her still picking her way up.

“Sorry about that. I seem to have forgotten my manners this evening.”

“I suppose that’s to be expected when you’re forced to play escort to a woman you don’t even like,” she said, trying to make light of the situation.

Nick smiled, purposely letting his gaze drift down to her cleavage. “I like you fine. In fact, if you agree to give up the Goddess account, I’ll make sure we have a lovely evening.”

Jessie pulled her wrap more tightly around her shoulders. “Not a chance, bud.”

He shrugged. “All right, then. I’ll escort you to the table and then you’re on your own.”

“Fine by me,” she said shortly.

He held the door open, sweeping his arm out with false gallantry. “After you.”

Seeing the mockery in his eyes, she straightened her spine, held her head high, and stepped through into the ballroom beyond.

She didn’t need him, no matter how sexy he was. She had all of New York’s advertising elite waiting to be wrapped around her little finger.

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