you?”
Something dark and pained flashed through his eyes, giving her the feeling that he had a lot he wanted to say. “It’s not in either of our best interests to talk about this here.”
“Why? Because your girlfriend might see us or because your wife might hear about it later?”
“My wife? What’s that supposed to mean?” But then he shook his head, as though he didn’t really want her to answer.
Not that she particularly wanted to talk about it, either. Bringing up the girlfriend and the wife was a huge mistake. It made her seem as if she was still nursing her affection for him. And it potentially revealed that she’d basically been stalking him last week.
Thankfully, the song was coming to an end. In the lull between songs, she stepped away from him abruptly, forcing him to drop his arms. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Grant. It’s been particularly illuminating.”
“Wait,” he said, reaching out to grasp her arm. “We can’t talk here, but we do need to talk. Can I take you to brunch tomorrow? Dinner? Something.”
“You’re asking me on a date?” Hysterical laughter nearly bubbled up inside her and it was all she could do to control it.
“No,” he said seriously, not sensing how close she was to losing it. “Not a date. A conversation.”
“No. I’m not getting brunch with you. Or dinner. I wouldn’t so much as share a handful of breath mints with you.”
He pulled his hand back, tucking it in his pocket, but he didn’t turn away from her. He just stood there, looking oddly forlorn on the edge of the dance floor. “There are things we need to talk about.”
Aware that they were attracting attention, she stepped just a little closer so no one would overhear her. “You are a lying, cheating bastard. I have nothing to say to you. And there’s nothing you could say to me that I would want to hear.”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer. She knew all too well how charming he could be when he set his mind to it.
But as she walked back across the ballroom to the spot where her family congregated, she wondered if she’d been lying to herself as well as to him.
There were so many things she should be telling him. When she’d first made the decision not to tell him about the baby, it had seemed so logical. So cut-and-dried. Now? Now she wasn’t so sure.
Worse still, part of her did want to know what he had to say. Part of her would never stop wondering why he’d left.
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