Christmas Seduction. Jessica Lemmon

I guess you wouldn’t.” She imagined thirty-two dollars to Tate Duncan must be what thirty-two cents felt like to her.

      “What’s going on, Hayden? Do you find me particularly hard to get along with?”

      “I—Sorry. That was rude.” She handed his card back and flipped the screen around for him to sign it. When he was finished, she tucked her iPad into the drawer and, with no other task before her, was forced to meet his eyes.

      He stood there like he had nowhere else to be.

      “I didn’t schedule Sherry only because I didn’t want to be alone with you. It worked well since you’re both beginners.”

      He nodded slowly.

      “Plus, what did you expect after you barged in here—”

      “I barged?”

      “—and demanded—”

      “Demanded?”

      She huffed out a breath. If was going to continue calling her bluff, she really should stop lying about her true intentions. But there was a nugget of truth she could cling to.

      “My schedule has been nuts this week. Everyone’s trying to get in before Thanksgiving.”

      “Ah. And you fit me in.” He grinned. “Because you couldn’t tell me no.”

      She made a pathetic choking sound. How arrogant was this guy, anyway? And how did he keep guessing right?

      “Because I have to make a living. I don’t have billions stashed away...” She almost added “like some people” but she was already protesting too much.

      “Right,” he agreed, but something in his expression told her he’d gleaned what she hadn’t said. “Well, thank you. For the mat.”

      He went to grab his coat, slipping it over his arms and holding the rolled mat between his knees.

      Feeling a dab of guilt, she moved toward him and vomited out a generic nicety. “Thank you for booking your session. I hope you’ll consider a membership.”

      His hand resting on the door handle, he turned as she stopped advancing, putting her mere inches from his handsome face. “I was thinking about another kind of one-on-one session. Are you available for dinner?”

      She hadn’t been prepared for that. Words eluded her. She knew that agreeing to go out with him was a bad idea, but when faced with his glittering blue eyes she couldn’t quite remember why.

      “Just so you know—” that blue gaze dipped to her mouth “—if you were ready, I’d kiss the hell out of you right now. Just to make sure I didn’t imagine how good you tasted before.”

      She gaped at him, but he didn’t advance to kiss her. Instead he turned around and stepped outside.

      Before she could shut the door, he pushed it open a crack. “Think about dinner. I’ll ask again.”

      She locked up behind him, watching him through the glass. He had a sure, strong gait, a disgustingly handsome mug, and looked as good in a suit as he did in sweatpants.

      There were a multitude of reactions fighting for first place. She wanted to open the door and yell for him to come back. She wanted to run upstairs and shut the blinds. She wanted to jog across the street and grab him by the ears and kiss the hell out of him.

      Especially that last one.

      While she warred with those options, frozen in stunned bliss at the possibilities, Tate grew farther and farther away until he was a shadowy blur disappearing into a path into the woods.

      “Damn him.” But she didn’t mean it. She was looking forward to next time—when she would leave him slack-jawed and without a response.