Romancing the Bachelor (A Hamilton Family 2)

“Thank you.” She picked up her purse. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He patted his pockets and turned around to pick up his jacket. His muscles flexed under his shirt, something the fabric did nothing to hide. He wore a gray suit, and the pants hugged his rear. And when he turned around…sweet baby Jesus.

It hugged other things, too.

Things she’d been without for over two years now.

He faced her and froze. He stared at her again, taking in her red dress, and the heels she’d carefully put on earlier. She never wore heels. Or tight dresses. But tonight…

What was she doing?

This was a horrible idea.

“Christ, Shelby, you’re beautiful.” He ran his knuckles down her bare arm, leaving behind a tingling sensation that quickly turned into red-hot need. His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer, reading her reaction to him like an open book and clearly liking what he saw. “I want to kiss you. Right here. Right now.”

Her stomach tightened in response, and she pressed a hand to it as her breath quickened. It didn’t help. Nothing would. Nothing except…him. He seemed unaware of her internal struggle as he rested a hand on her lower back. His touch burned through the fabric, scorching her skin, and he stepped closer. His cologne teased her nose, and she breathed it in, swaying closer.

That was all it took.

He lowered his face, his mouth an inch from hers as he—

No. No, no, no, no.

“Can I have a second, please?” she blurted as she sidestepped him.

He frowned, letting go of her instantly, his forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Yes, of course.”

She bolted into the bathroom, closing the door and taking deep breaths. The room spun, and all she could think, all she could feel, was his hand on her, and her reaction to it.

This was a bad idea.

Horrible.

Yet, if she didn’t see this through, if she didn’t show him she was the wrong girl for him in the most obvious way possible, then he’d keep throwing those heated stares her way, like he had today in court, and he’d haunt her forever.

Eventually, if he kept staring at her like he was starving and she was his next meal, she’d give in and let him gobble her up. She couldn’t let that happen.

This had to end tonight.

“Shelby?” he called out, knocking lightly on the door. “Look, if you changed your mind, we can just cancel the date and—”

She op

ened the door, meeting his eyes. “I didn’t change my mind. I just”—needed a second to breathe—“had to powder my nose again. My makeup was uneven.”

He eyed her suspiciously but stepped aside so she could come out. “If you’re sure. I’d never want you to think you had to go out with me. If you’re not interested, then I’ll go home. No harm done. I’ll leave you alone.”

But he wouldn’t. Not really.

She had to make him not want her anymore.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m starving.” She walked past him, grabbed her jacket, and turned to face him with her spine stiff and her head on straight again. No more swooning or thinking about how good he’d taste. She had a job to do, and she had every intention of seeing it through. “Let’s go eat some food.”

He led her outside, and she searched the street for a cab. As she lifted her arm, he pulled it down gently by the wrist. “No need for that. I secured a ride for us.”

She blinked, following him without a word as he led her to a limo that looked like it housed the President of the United States instead of Eric Hamilton and Shelby Jefferson.