The Proposal [TEASER]

Chapter Two

Choosing a demure blue dress, long-sleeved and faux-wrapped, Andrea pinned her hair up and slipped into a pair of matching heels. She considered canceling at the last minute, but then Benton entered her mind and she felt an uncharacteristic surge of spite. So what if Brad hardly stirred her or rarely invaded her thoughts. They at least owed it to themselves to try and he was a nice man.

She took a slow breath and pressed a hand to her forehead. Whatever happened, she would have dinner with a pleasant distraction and enjoy herself. Before she could think on it further, a knock sounded on her door. Reaching for her coat, she plastered a smile on her face and answered.

A single rose greeted her. She accepted it, automatically raising it to her nose as Brad said, "Hello, Andrea."

"Thank you, Brad."

"Can I help you into your coat?" He offered, holding out his hand.

"Yes, thank you." What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she crave attention like this?

Once he bundled her into her coat, she reached for her small clutch on the table near the door. Locking it behind her, she slipped her keys into her pocket. Brad opened an umbrella and held it over her as they walked to his silver Mercedes sports car. He opened the door for her and waited until she was comfortably seated before closing it.

They sped into the night, low, soothing music on the radio. The inside of the car smelled of leather and the faint tinge of Brad's aftershave. The scent was pleasant. She wanted it to tickle her senses, stroking a fire low in her belly the same way a single smile from Benton could do. But she could only feel a detached sort of comfort; Brad was safe.

All of her life, Andrea stuck with safe. She kept to herself in school, studied hard and graduated with honors. After college, she became Deacon's executive secretary after a few temp jobs failed; her bosses were more interested in her curves than her work ethic. Deacon remained nothing but a gentleman and she flourished under his leadership.

Those few relationships she cultivated lasted less than a year or two, and though comfortable, none of them felt like more than a close friendship. Those men reminded her of Brad. Polite, generous with their time and boring in their tastes. She would never have called herself a woman who lusted after the impossible. Danger was something she watched on television, not welcomed into her life. But there she was, attracted to a man who reminded her of a sleek, deadly panther.

Secrets burned in his eyes, and the lazy but calculated way he watched the world told her he saw far more than he showed. Everything about him commanded attention. She doubted Brad could take a bullet and get up like it was a scratch. The man oozed danger from his pores like another would sweat. She had yet to see him back down from anything. He reminded her of a caged animal, sedate and biding its time until the door opened, releasing a devil capable of tearing someone apart.

The guilt of her thoughts weighed on her. Brad didn't stand a chance, and it wasn't for lack of his trying. When he saw she forgot her coffee, Brad brought her one from the shop down the street. If she fell behind on her work and became late to deliver reports to accounting, he came and got them on his own. A gentleman to the last, he offered to take her to the Opera and theater as if she belonged there, as if she wasn't that sheltered girl from the low income side of town.

The truth though, was she didn't care for the opera. She liked theater as much as any woman, but she didn't need grand gestures or fancy restaurants to prove a man wanted her. It would be in the way his eyes caressed her, the touch of a hand on the small of her back or the way he stood for her when no one else dared. Maybe she wanted the impossible. Maybe her standards didn't exist, maybe a comfortable love would be all she could hope for.