my sister and I used to have epic games of hide and seek.”
“That sounds like something out of a book,” I say. “Did you ever find Narnia?”
He lets out a laugh at that—a belly laugh, not one of the smug chuckles he's been sending my way all evening.
“No Narnia,” he says. “But if there were any magical passages in this place, they wouldn't be inside. They'd be out in the maze.”
I nearly trip over my own feet. “You have a maze?”
“The fourth-largest hedge maze in North America, last I heard.”
Whoa . That’s serious. Secret passageways and a hedge maze? Under any other circumstances, I would be delighted. This place is absolutely fascinating—no wonder the family has always been so weird about letting the press have a peek. If you share the secrets of a house like this with the world, they lose some of their luster. I'm not too proud to admit that I'm in a privileged position here, getting to look around. Calder is even offering me a full-out tour.
But thoughts of the Center creep in again, and now all I can see is the elaborate excess. If you can afford to maintain a hedge maze, is it really such a huge thing to fulfill your pledge to a small nonprofit organization?
Calder seems to sense the sudden change in my enthusiasm.
“If you change your mind,” he says, “you can contact me through the electronic tablet mounted on the wall next to your bed. I should be up for a while yet.”
I nod, but now that I’ve remembered my reason for coming here in the first place, I'm no longer particularly interested in his dungeons and his mazes. By the time we reach the bedroom I used earlier, I'm no longer sure what to say to him.
Fortunately, he takes the lead.
“I'm very sorry things have been so… contentious between us. I think, under different circumstances, you and I might get along very well.”
You mean circumstances where you don't screw over the Center? I think, Or just circumstances where I actually succumb to your advances? I don't voice the question aloud.
He's studying my face.
“I'm not a terrible person,” he says finally. “We all must make difficult choices sometimes.”
Of course, I tell myself. Whether to honor your family’s pledge or pay for your next European jaunt is an extremely difficult decision. I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
His dark eyes are boring into me. It makes my skin go hot, then cold. I really wish I knew what was going on in his head. I suspect he's stalling, testing the waters, looking for some hint of attraction or consent in my expression. Will he proposition me outright again? Or is he the type to grab me and kiss me without warning, and just bank on the fact that most women melt under his warm, soft lips? The image sends a strange tickling sensation across my skin, and I break his gaze. My heart is thumping madly in my chest, but I tell myself it's nerves from the awkwardness of the situation.
“Goodnight,” I say, before this scene spins out of control.
“Goodnight, Ms. Frazer,” he says. “As I mentioned before, I'll be up for a while, should you change the mind about the tour.”
“I don't think I will. I'm really very tired.”
He nods, and I reach for the doorknob. He makes no move for me as I retreat into the bedroom, and it's only after I shut and lock the door behind me that I let out a sigh of relief.
That was close.
I'll admit, a part of me is surprised he didn't try anything else. He was so blunt and open over dinner. Maybe he’s finally accepted that I’m not going to jump into bed with him. Or maybe he changed his mind about jumping into bed with me.
There's a pang in my stomach at that thought, and I tell myself it’s only bruised pride. Why do I care if he hits on me or not? I don't want him, and I certainly won't be climbing into bed with him anytime soon. Sure, he’s not completely unappealing from a physical point of view, but there's more to a person than his looks. He's an ass, and he's