Memo: The Billionaire's Proposal. Melissa Mcclone

back.”

      As she did as he asked, Chaney realized how much the chain mail weighed. He shrugged out of the shirt so it rested on his upper arms.

      “Now come around in front of me,” he said. “Be careful, it’s heavy.”

      Chaney held on to the shirt as he pulled one arm out and then another, never once leaving her to hold the entire weight of the chain mail.

      He placed it in the container. His damp, quilted shirt clung to him. He pulled the tails out from the waistband of his pants. “Much better and cooler.”

      Maybe for him.

      “I should go.”

      “Stay.” One soft word in that sexy, accented voice.

      She sucked in a breath. “But we’re done.”

      His eyes lit again with that wicked, wicked laughter. “Darling, we’re just getting started.”

      He walked—no, strutted—toward her, the set of his jaw full of purpose.

      Drawn to his strength and heat, Chaney leaned toward him. She tilted her chin.

      His gaze smoldered. His lips parted.

      Chaney stood transfixed.

      Drake stopped in front of her.

      She could barely breathe, let alone think. She stared up at him, confused, afraid, attracted. He lowered his mouth to hers.

      He was going to kiss her.

      The realization ricocheted through her brain. She wanted him to kiss her. Badly. Except…

      She ducked her head and stepped back so the only thing his lips touched was air.

      “I should so not be surprised by this.” Her voice sounded shrill. She didn’t care.

      His head drew back. “Excuse me?”

      “I probably shouldn’t ask, given your reputation, but why would you choose to make a move on me now, when you know I’m so tired?”

      “I thought you wanted me to kiss you.”

      She placed her hands on her hips. “Why would you think that?”

      “The way you leaned toward me. The tilt of your head. The look in your eyes that said kiss me.”

      Oh, boy. Shame flooded her. She’d done all those things and probably more. “I’m sorry if I misled you.”

      “Don’t be sorry.” His smile could have charmed a starving mouse out of its last nibble of cheddar. “We can try again. Let me show you what you missed out on five years ago.”

      Sex. That was all he’d ever wanted from her.

      Anger surged. Disappointment, too. She glanced to the bed and back at him. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not about to be another notch on your bedpost or wherever else you keep track of your conquests.”

      “If that’s all I felt about you, Chaney, I wouldn’t be here.”

      Even though she was upset at him, his words piqued her curiosity. “What are you talking about?”

      “I decided to host this episode so I could see you again.”

      The air in his room sizzled. Drake saw a mix of disbelief and hope in Chaney’s eyes. He wanted hope to win. That way he would win, too.

      “You thought I was married and you still wanted to see me?” she asked.

      “See you, yes. Nothing else.”

      “And if I hadn’t agreed to fill in for Gemma?”

      “But you did and you’re here. Not to mention unmarried.” He moved closer to her. “We’ve been given a second chance, Chaney. Let’s make the most of this opportunity.”

      She put her hands on his chest to stop him. “Why don’t you park yourself at the round table and cool down.”

      Her anger confused him. He hadn’t expected that reaction.

      She walked away from him. “You can’t actually expect me to believe you.”

      “What I said is true.”

      Chaney gave him a look. “I only agreed to fill in for Gemma a few days ago. I realize you have enough money to have a custom suit of armor built for you at the last minute, but unless you’ve found a miracle formula to grow that much facial hair overnight, I’d say you spent well over a week on your beard. Probably longer than that.”

      Damn. Most women would have pretended not to see through what he’d said and play along, but not Chaney. Drake didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused by the turn of events. “You may have misunderstood my intentions.”

      “Oh, no. Your intentions are quite clear, but I want to make sure you don’t misinterpret mine.”

      Forget annoyed. The way she dismissed him so easily and the strength she exhibited were total turn-ons.

      She continued. “I’m sure whatever lines you normally use on women must work pretty well or you wouldn’t be so confident, but just so you know, nothing’s happening here tonight, tomorrow or any other day we happen to be in the same place.”

      No one ever challenged him like this. Maybe he should try another tack or perhaps cut his losses and send her on her way. The truth was he really didn’t want her to leave. “Would you believe your being here gave me a reason to look forward to this weekend?”

      Her clear, sharp eyes told him she wasn’t about to be swayed by empty words or careless compliments.

      Guilt lodged in his throat. “I’m sorry to have dragged you up here.”

      The tightness around her mouth told him he should be sorry. She picked up her clipboard from the table and headed toward the door.

      “I’ll walk you to your room,” he offered.

      “And tuck me in?” She pursed her lips. “No, thanks.”

      “I don’t want you getting lost.”

      “I’ll do fine on my own.”

      “You said you hadn’t been to this part of the castle before.”

      “I can find my way down a lit stairwell.”

      The set of her jaw told him she wasn’t about to back down. Early in life, he’d learned what battles were worth fighting. He knew this one wasn’t. “Okay, you win.”

       For now.

      Her tired eyes widened behind her glasses. “I didn’t know it was a competition.”

      “Life is a competition.”

      “Only if you turn it into one.”

      Chaney may be tired, but her mind was fully functioning. Still, he’d taken up enough of her time for tonight. Drake opened the door for her. “Thanks for your help. Get some sleep.”

      Not looking back at him, she fled down the staircase into the shadows.

      Once she was out of sight, Drake closed the door.

      Frustration gnawed at him. He hadn’t been this off his game since Chaney’s going-away party in London. But that experience hadn’t left him feeling so damn guilty.

      Regret swept over him. He’d taken advantage of her helpful nature to get her to his room. Not that she’d allowed him to take advantage of the situation at all.

      He hadn’t liked how she turned him down the last time, given her near hero worship of him five years ago, but he’d understood she wanted more than he was offering.

      Tonight, however, stung. He rubbed his chin, still not used to the hair against his fingers. She’d been angry and dismissive.