When they finally leave, I check my watch and note that it’s much later than I thought. “Oh my. I should probably head home too.”
“You’re not leaving me here alone, are you?”
“I’m sorry, Zorro.” I stand, and he rises with me.
“Can I at least walk you back to your place?”
I tell myself it’s the booze that makes me hot at the idea of being walked back to my place. I’m not a woman that falls for a sexy wealthy man just because he’s a gentleman.
“Will it help you with your being-hit-on anxiety?” I ask.
He smiles, and again, like every time he smiles, I want to kiss him. How crazy is that?
“Yes, Dr. Everling. Please save me from the women.”
We leave the party, and I wonder if people are speculating about him and me. Usually, that type of thing would annoy me. But, right now, I find it titillating.
In the elevator, I press the button to my floor. “What was that look that Theo gave you?” I ask without thinking.
Oliver doesn’t answer right away. I turn to look at him.
“Too personal?” I ask.
He shrugs. “He’s worried I’m going to make a pass at you.”
My insides flare with heat. “Oh?” Then I note his tone: while Theo might be worried, Oliver has no interest in me. “Why is that something he worries about?”
Oliver sighs.
I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. You don’t have to say it. You’re a handsome, rich doctor. I imagine you’ve made many passes.”
He looks down, confirming my hypothesis. “I’m supposed to be on the wagon.”
Everything inside me goes cold. “Is that why you really spent time with me tonight? So you wouldn’t be tempted.” It’s stupid to be hurt by that, but I am.
“What? No.” His expression suggests my thinking is ridiculous.
“You wanted a shield from the sexy ladies, and I was it.”
“Jesus, Charlotte, that wasn’t it at all. I enjoyed this evening.”
The doors to the elevator open, and I march out to my condo.
“Charlotte.” He follows me. “You can’t really believe that, can you?”
I shrug. “It’s okay-”
“It’s not okay.” He turns me, his hands on my arms, his crystalline blue eyes staring down at me. “I spent half the evening with you enjoying getting to know you.”
I arch a brow. “Half of the evening? What about the other part?”
He lets out a frustrated growl. “The other half, I was telling myself to behave.”
I frown.
“Jesus, do I have to spell it out?”
I nod. “Yes, you do.”