Filthy Rich by Dawn Ryder Page B

it back in the bucket. He disappeared quietly while she looked over her shoulder.
    There was a little swish as doors slid shut, ensuring complete privacy. A chef was waiting beyond the glass doors to speak with the waiter. They conferred for several moments before the waiter disappeared.
    Celeste turned back to look at the second wineglass.
    â€œYour neck is tight.”
    She didn’t jump. Nartan’s voice washed over her and every muscle tightened. Her lips parted as her heart accelerated and she fought the urge to look behind her.
    She lost.
    She did a double take, blinking as she drank in the sight of him. He was hot. And mouthwatering. The realization sunk all the way into her brain. Nartan was watching her from beneath hooded eyes, gauging her reaction and looking like he was taking her apart like some sort of complex math equation.
    At least, she felt that vulnerable.
    Totally stripped down in front of him.
    She was tempted to label him intimidating, but the truth was it was her own failing that made her so susceptible to him. There was some reaction brewing inside her on a cellular level that was reducing her to a bundle of responses that operated on a purely instinctual level.
    She noticed every little detail about him.
    Like that what he did for a suit should be bottled and sold. The gray wool was loose enough to show how fit he was, his tie the same ocean blue as his eyes. All of that rich fabric lay over him like wrapping paper made to be ripped away.
    He moved closer, his fingers brushing her nape. It was just a light touch at first, gauging her acceptance. She took another sip of wine and let him rub the tense muscles in her neck for a moment.
    He moved away and sat down. She watched him, feeling on edge.
    â€œAdmit it, you’re impressed with me.”
    Maybe…
    â€œI can always check out if you get too presumptuous,” she countered softly.
    One inky, dark eyebrow rose. “Only if you’re willing to admit you’re too chicken to be in the same room with me.”
    She tapped her fingernail against the pristine tablecloth. “Touché,” she admitted. “Even if I think you’re a bit of a cad for voicing that thought.”
    â€œCad?” He picked up the folded napkin and gave it a snap before laying it across his lap. “I call it persistent.”
    â€œHmmm…” She battled the urge to let her lips curl up with enjoyment. “Stalkers are persistent too.”
    He tossed his head back, laughing. The column of his throat snagged her attention, and the desire to lick him flared to life.
    The doors behind them swished open. One waiter lit the candles on the table while two more delivered a starter to both Celeste and Nartan at precisely the same time. The waiters lifted the polished silver domes off the plates with a flourish before disappearing as quickly as they’d appeared.
    â€œDon’t I at least score points for originality?” he asked.
    Celeste picked up her fork and considered the plate in front of her for a long moment. “Only if I were interested in being the point of a game.”
    Nartan was considering her over the rim of his wineglass. “You think I’m playing, with you as the prize?” He was hiding behind a polished business demeanor, leaning back in the chair to give the illusion of being relaxed, but she could feel how sharp his attention was. The man was sizing her up.
    She lowered her fork. “I’m really not trying to be a bitch. The afternoon was amazing.”
    â€œBut you’re still not sure what you think about me following you?” he clarified in a smooth tone that raised the hair on her nape in warning.
    â€œI’m not sure what I think about the fact that I had a hell of a lot of fun with you this afternoon and that I put this dress on with you in mind. Because it’s possible that you just hate getting the brush-off. You didn’t build all of this by being a