The Millionaire's Club: Jacob, Logan and Marc: Black-Tie Seduction / Less-than-Innocent Invitation / Strictly Confidential Attraction

“Because she’s Gretchen. Whatever gave you the idea that I’m gender biased?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Could be the ridiculous conversation we were having earlier.”

“Darlin’, that wasn’t about gender bias. That was about gender equity. I want you to experience some of the fun I have.” He waggled his brows. “Show you what it’s like to take a little walk on the wild side.”

He was incorrigible. And, drat it, he had her smiling again with his silly words. And, yeah, part of the reason she was smiling was because he so clearly was not fazed by Gretchen Halifax’s cool sexuality.

Until Gretchen had arrived at the table, Christine had actually started to feel a little less…what? Tense? Self-conscious? Less defensive maybe, despite Jake’s questions about her history. She’d even enjoyed his silliness. That had come as a big surprise. Much of this evening had been a surprise—starting with his reaction to seeing her when she’d opened the door. The way he’d looked at her made her feel warm all over, aware, aroused even. And that was the biggest surprise of all.

Their entrées arrived and for a little while they ate in silence. Christine contemplated the way Gretchen had tried to put the moves on Jake. Witnessing Gretchen in action—smooth, sophisticated, worldly—had reminded Christine of one unalterable fact.

While she could enjoy tonight for what it was—one single night—the truth was she wasn’t only way out of her element but also was way out of her league. Fancy French restaurants were not on her usual flight path. Men like Jake Thorne moved in privileged circles; she moved in stagnant squares.

She felt let down suddenly. Evidently the power surge sparked by her outfit was officially over. But she decided she was going to make the most of the evening since she’d probably never enjoy the pleasure of Claire’s again. With a blissful sigh, she enjoyed a bite of her fish. The wine sauce smothering the whitefish was absolutely decadent.

“Now that’s a look you ought to have on your face more often.”

She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes while savoring the rich explosion of flavor saturating her taste buds. “This is delicious.”

“And a very sensual experience from where I’m sitting.”

She blinked at him, saw the hot appreciation in his gaze and felt herself blush. Again. “How’s your steak?”

“Exceptional. And rare. Just the way I like it.”

And just the way he liked his women, she figured. There was nothing rare about her. And yet she couldn’t quite stall a little shiver of awareness as his gaze swept from her face to her neck, then dropped ever so subtly to the swell of her breasts before he smiled into her eyes.

“Have another bite of your fish. I want to watch you indulge some more.”

He’d done it again. Managed to make her face burn with a fire that wasn’t fueled as much by irritation as it should have been. Awareness…of him as a man…of herself as a woman, played a bigger part. And it was time to get on top of the situation.

“I think I’ve waited long enough. It’s time to talk about your other condition for turning over Jess Golden’s things.”

“You haven’t been paying attention,” he said, that maddeningly amused grin tipping up one corner of his mouth. “I already named it. The condition is we strike a deal. I’ll agree to do something you deem as adult and you’ll agree to do something I deem as juvenile.”

He insisted on pushing. Okay fine. She’d push back. But how?

And just like that, it came to her how she could call his bluff.

“Okay. You’re on.”

He did a double take. Then sat back in his chair and considered her with a pleasantly disbelieving look. “For real?”

She nodded. “For real.”

“Well, okay then, Chris-tine,” he said, drawing out her name, “what do I have to do?”

“Run for mayor.”

That wiped the smile off his face. “What?”

“You’re so confident that Gretchen Halifax will make a lousy candidate? Then you need to make sure she doesn’t get the position.”

“Hell, sweet cheeks, I’m no politician.”

“All the better. You already run a business. It’s not much of a stretch to run a city.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Oh. Now it’s ridiculous. Now that I’ve called you on it.”

“But it’s my game,” he whined with the express intent of making her laugh.

And she did. It just sort of bubbled out, surprising her more than it surprised him.

“Lord, that’s sweet,” he said. “You really ought to do that more often.”

“You make me sound like I’m a stuffy old curmudgeon,” she grumbled, but she was still grinning.

“There is nothing stuffy about you, darlin’. And nothing old. Everything’s new—especially that laugh. Did you know your eyes sort of dance in that beautiful face when you laugh?”

His eyes had turned dark again, fueled by a fire that was far too warm and far too intimate for her comfort. She felt exposed…and as alive with sensation as if he’d physically touched her.

“You’re full of charm, Mr. Thorne. And you do so love to use it, don’t you?”

“When it gets results like that, yes, ma’am. I truly do.” He reached across the table, took her hand in his. “You have the most kissable mouth. I bet you didn’t know that, either, did you?”

Yikes. Okay. Time out. He was way too fast on his feet for her. And the way she was feeling about him was too confusing.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, pulling her hand from his. “I’ll be right back.”

Then she hightailed it to the ladies’ room while her bones were still in solid form. Another few minutes under his seductive gaze and said bones might just fold like licorice. And then where would she be? Believing he didn’t say those things to all the girls, that’s where. That belief would be a mistake of major proportions.

She knew that for a fact. But knowing it didn’t take the sting out of the truth that a teeny, tiny part of her wanted to believe he really thought she was special.

Wasn’t that just the most asinine thing? She didn’t even like him. Well, she hadn’t liked him. She still didn’t want to like him. And yet…she was having fun tonight. Kind of. When the mood struck him, he could be very sweet and attentive and…Stop!

Just stop. This was the same man who had tormented her for the past five years. For all she knew, tonight was just a precursor to another kind of torment. The kind that could leave her wounded instead of just ticked off.

“Had a good time tonight, Chrissie,” Jake said as he pulled up in front of her apartment.

As he walked her up the sidewalk to the door of her first-floor apartment, his hands were tucked oh-so casually into his trouser pockets. Of course, to accomplish that he’d had to brush his suit jacket aside. So, of course, Christine’s peripheral vision was filled with the way his white dress shirt hugged an abdomen that, if memory served, exemplified the term six-pack abs.

“The dinner was excellent,” she said, aware of the warmth of the July night, ultra-aware of the height and the rich scent of the man walking beside her.

“Exceeded only by the company.”

When she’d returned to the table after her trip to the ladies’ room, she’d very quickly steered him away from the topic of dancing eyes and kissable lips. Fortunately he’d taken her cue and backed off all the Mr. Charm talk. They’d discussed the weather, her work at the hospital and the Royal Museum. When she’d pressed, he’d reluctantly told her about his business—if you counted, “It’s doing well,” as talking about it.