lying. You suck at it. I remember you, okay?”
My gaze slitted up at him, narrowing my field of vision to him. Only him. “Prove it.”
“Okay.” His expression darkened in challenge. “You had the saddest eyes I’d ever seen with dark shadows under them. And you kept glancing at the door, as if you couldn’t wait to get away from the crowd. You were wearing a light green dress that hit just below your knees. Your hair was pulled back in the same twist you’re wearing today. You spent over an hour making sure all the kids were having fun, and you made sure every woman had a dance partner. Every woman but yourself.”
My mouth dropped open in shock and I think my heart skipped a beat. He did remember me. The knowledge was astonishing. Surreal. Almost more than I could take in. And so utterly wonderful I couldn’t quite catch my breath.
“I nearly approached you that day,” he said softly.
My eyes widened. He’d wanted to talk to me? Me? “Did you want to talk to me about…your mom’s party?”
“Please.” He crossed his ankles, the action casual, but the intense gleam in his eyes was anything but calm. “I wanted to talk to you just to hear your voice. I even took a step toward you, but you saw me coming and bolted.”
I gasped. “I did not bolt.”
“You did, too.” A deep, rumbling laugh escaped him. “I’ve replayed it in my mind a thousand times.”
Those words were familiar. He’d said them to me before…when he’d kissed me, that he’d imagined my lips a thousand times. I gulped. This conversation was having a strange effect on my equilibrium. Had I been standing, I would have collapsed to the floor.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d offer this man my life, my heart and my soul on a silver platter, room service available 24-7. He and his confession were that dangerous.
“Were you afraid of me?” he asked. “Is that why you ran?”
“I’m telling you, I did not run.”
“Whatever you say, Jackie Joyner,” he said, his singsong tone contradicting his words.
I stomped my foot, drawing on frustration and anger to distance myself. To strengthen my resolve. Richard the Bastard had been sweet in the beginning, too, saying all the right things. Remember that.
Royce grinned slowly, smugly. “You want that drink now?”
“You obviously suffer from a severe brain disorder because your memory is warped. I did not run away from you.”
“Naomi Delacroix, afraid of me. Then. And now.” Features pensive, he tapped his chin with his finger. “I wonder why. Intense attraction? Unquenchable desire?”
If he only knew the truth of those words. I had run from him that night. There. I admit it. I’d seen him walking toward me—though I hadn’t thought he actually meant to talk to me—and everything inside me, everything I’d thought bludgeoned to death by Richard the Bastard, had sparked to instant life. Attraction, yes. Desire, most definitely. Both more intense than anything I’d ever known. My mouth had gone dry, my limbs had begun shaking. My bloodhad heated, swimming through my veins and burning everything it touched.
I’d run. As fast as my feet would carry me.
I hadn’t been able to handle him then. Hell, I was barely handling him now. I didn’t want him to see me as a coward, though, therefore I would never, ever admit that I’d purposefully escaped him. Right now, I wanted this man to see me as a strong, capable woman who met her challenges head-on.
One day, that description might even be true.
“So, why did you want to see me today?” Good. Bring it back to business.
He tilted his chin, silently acknowledging my abrupt change of subject. Half turning, he reached out and grabbed a small square item. He thrust it at me. “Here. This is yours.”
I gazed down at it, confused. “What is it?”
“A state-of-the-art BlueJay PDA. I almost bought you a Palm Pilot, but I decided to go this route instead. I’ll be able to call you and send you e-mail with it. Plus,
My gaze slitted up at him, narrowing my field of vision to him. Only him. “Prove it.”
“Okay.” His expression darkened in challenge. “You had the saddest eyes I’d ever seen with dark shadows under them. And you kept glancing at the door, as if you couldn’t wait to get away from the crowd. You were wearing a light green dress that hit just below your knees. Your hair was pulled back in the same twist you’re wearing today. You spent over an hour making sure all the kids were having fun, and you made sure every woman had a dance partner. Every woman but yourself.”
My mouth dropped open in shock and I think my heart skipped a beat. He did remember me. The knowledge was astonishing. Surreal. Almost more than I could take in. And so utterly wonderful I couldn’t quite catch my breath.
“I nearly approached you that day,” he said softly.
My eyes widened. He’d wanted to talk to me? Me? “Did you want to talk to me about…your mom’s party?”
“Please.” He crossed his ankles, the action casual, but the intense gleam in his eyes was anything but calm. “I wanted to talk to you just to hear your voice. I even took a step toward you, but you saw me coming and bolted.”
I gasped. “I did not bolt.”
“You did, too.” A deep, rumbling laugh escaped him. “I’ve replayed it in my mind a thousand times.”
Those words were familiar. He’d said them to me before…when he’d kissed me, that he’d imagined my lips a thousand times. I gulped. This conversation was having a strange effect on my equilibrium. Had I been standing, I would have collapsed to the floor.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d offer this man my life, my heart and my soul on a silver platter, room service available 24-7. He and his confession were that dangerous.
“Were you afraid of me?” he asked. “Is that why you ran?”
“I’m telling you, I did not run.”
“Whatever you say, Jackie Joyner,” he said, his singsong tone contradicting his words.
I stomped my foot, drawing on frustration and anger to distance myself. To strengthen my resolve. Richard the Bastard had been sweet in the beginning, too, saying all the right things. Remember that.
Royce grinned slowly, smugly. “You want that drink now?”
“You obviously suffer from a severe brain disorder because your memory is warped. I did not run away from you.”
“Naomi Delacroix, afraid of me. Then. And now.” Features pensive, he tapped his chin with his finger. “I wonder why. Intense attraction? Unquenchable desire?”
If he only knew the truth of those words. I had run from him that night. There. I admit it. I’d seen him walking toward me—though I hadn’t thought he actually meant to talk to me—and everything inside me, everything I’d thought bludgeoned to death by Richard the Bastard, had sparked to instant life. Attraction, yes. Desire, most definitely. Both more intense than anything I’d ever known. My mouth had gone dry, my limbs had begun shaking. My bloodhad heated, swimming through my veins and burning everything it touched.
I’d run. As fast as my feet would carry me.
I hadn’t been able to handle him then. Hell, I was barely handling him now. I didn’t want him to see me as a coward, though, therefore I would never, ever admit that I’d purposefully escaped him. Right now, I wanted this man to see me as a strong, capable woman who met her challenges head-on.
One day, that description might even be true.
“So, why did you want to see me today?” Good. Bring it back to business.
He tilted his chin, silently acknowledging my abrupt change of subject. Half turning, he reached out and grabbed a small square item. He thrust it at me. “Here. This is yours.”
I gazed down at it, confused. “What is it?”
“A state-of-the-art BlueJay PDA. I almost bought you a Palm Pilot, but I decided to go this route instead. I’ll be able to call you and send you e-mail with it. Plus,
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