Yet she was already retreating from it, running scared. He could see it in her eyes.
“I should probably, you know, get back to Yvette.” She stood. He let her go.
Disappointment washed over him, but it was followed by a hint of relief. He’d dodged a silver bullet. Letting her walk out on him was the smartest thing he could do. If she stayed a minute longer, he feared he’d pounce.
He watched as she collected her handbag and rounded the sofa a bit shakily. She pressed her clutch to her breasts and made a beeline for the door.
Over her shoulder, she said, “I appreciate your time. I’ll email you with any questions I have, if that’s all right.”
“Certainly,” Drake said, forcing the displeasure from his tone. She wasn’t even interested in seeing him again. Not even a phone call. Rather, she intended to contact him via impersonal email. If she contacted him at all.
That dismal thought had him on his feet in the next second, just as she reached for the decorative lever on the door.
Jane let out a low hiss, making his head snap in her direction. She sprang from the sofa and asked Shana, “What went through your mind when you first saw Drake?”
No doubt taken unawares by the question, Shana’s hand fell to her side and she frowned as she turned to face them. “Excuse me?”
Coming around the end of the massive sectional, Jane said, “When you first saw him…what did you think of him?”
“I…um…” She shook her head, as though confused by the question. “I…” Her eyes narrowed on Jane, then shifted to Drake. Several tense moments passed. No one spoke or moved a muscle, including Shana. She simply stared at him, not even blinking.
Drake stood perfectly still, resisting the urge to march across the office, take her hand and drag her back to the sofa. He also remained quiet, tamping down the temptation to rescue her from the awkward question.
He suspected there was a method to Jane’s madness. At least there usually was, so he gave her the benefit of the doubt.
Unable to rudely shun her hosts—though Drake certainly would have understood if she’d chosen to do so, since they’d put her uncomfortably on the spot—Shana squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a notch.
As though she pulled moxie from somewhere deep inside herself, she said, “I thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.”
A peculiar, knee-jerk reaction to her words almost had Drake closing the wide gap between them and doing precisely what he’d wanted to do not more than ten minutes ago. Haul her up against him and kiss her with all the pent-up passion and desire she so easily evoked, which he’d had to keep securely under wraps all this time.
Prudence kept him rooted to the spot in which he stood and it was the most tormenting thing he’d endured yet. She might have found the nerve to admit what she thought of him, but he had no doubt she spooked easily and would be out the door if he made any sudden movements.
Beside him, Jane sighed wistfully. “Yes, he does have a certain something that draws attention.”
Shana gave a slight nod of her head. “A commanding presence. A piercing gaze. A confident stature.”
Admittedly, Drake had a healthy ego, but he wasn’t in need of hearing what this particular woman found attractive about him. What he wanted was for her to act upon that attraction. Yet she didn’t move any closer to him than he did her.
“And what did you think of me?” Jane asked in a tentative voice he’d not heard from her before.
Shana’s face fell, all traces of bravado vanishing in an instant. Her gaze dropped to the floor as her shoulders slumped and she fidgeted with her handbag. Long, tense moments passed until finally, she said without looking at them, “At first, you reminded me of the French and Swedish women in the orchestra I toured with. In fact, it was a huge relief to hear your British accent.”
“Why did you dislike them?”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t like them,” she was quick to say as her head jerked upward and she stared at Jane. “It wasn’t like that, per se. It was more…envy, I guess. They were all so tiny and feminine and…perfect.”
Drake felt an odd twisting in his gut. “But you headlined the tour—you were the star.”
“What does that matter in the grand scheme of things?” she asked, her gaze shifting so her eyes locked with his. “Boys and then young men—and older ones as I grew up—approached me because they knew my name. They knew I had money. They wanted me because of my notoriety, that’s all.”
His own brow furrowed. “You really believe that?”
“I didn’t look like the other women. It was quite…glaring, actually. The differences between myself and the others. Not just my skin tone, but my dark hair and my eyes and…” She shook her head and a pained expression crossed her face. “My figure. I blossomed rather quickly.”
“But you’re perfect,” Jane said on a sharp breath, as though offended for Shana, but also shocked the woman didn’t see what she did. Her gaze flashed to Drake. “Isn’t she.”
It wasn’t even a question. Jane sought an easy confirmation. He opened his mouth to concur, but Shana silenced him with a bitter laugh.