A smile twitches on his lips. “Well, I might do other things.”
Like what? Don’t ask, Rowe!He probably means something dirty, something that Clarice Sinclair would approve of. “I don’t think we should.”
He drops his mouth to my ear and whispers in a husky voice, “Why not? If we dance one song and no one joins us, then we’ll stop. But if other couples start, then I get two dances out of you.”
“The Sparkle Bar, contrary to its name, isn’t the type of place where people dance.” I point to the pool tables and dartboard. “It’s more like that.”
He straightens. “So we start a trend.” Pane flexes his fingers. “Don’t be chicken.”
I scoff. “I’m not a chicken.”
“Then prove it.”
I shake my head in annoyance. “Fine. Just one song.”
“Unless—”
“Yeah, yeah, unless others join.”
I down the rest of my water and let Pane take my hand. When he does, fireworks explode up my arm. I grind my teeth to keep from flinching, yet I can’t help but wonder what kind of nuclear-level electric shock that was.
Pane scowls as if he felt it, too. However, that’s also the billionaire’s normal expression, so it’s impossible to know if he experienced what I did.
He leads me to the center of the room and wraps an arm around my waist. He’s so tall that I have to tip my chin way up to make eye contact.
When he pulls me close, his exotic scent hits me hard, and I blurt out, “What are you wearing? I have to know.”
He smirks. “Is that a compliment from little Sunbeam?”
I roll my eyes. “I know how to give a compliment.”
“Apparently. I just heard one from you.”
I squint up at him and he glances down, stone-faced. “Are you teasing me? Trying to prove that you’re actually human?”
He chuckles. “Last I checked, I’m very, very human.”
Is it just me, or was there some superstrong sexual innuendo in that sentence? Another wave of his musky scent hits me, and his aroma is so amazing that I want to douse a cozy blanket in it, wrap myself up, and drink some hot chocolate.
“Seriously, though. What cologne is that?”
“It’s mine.”
“I know it’s yours. What’s it called?”
“Pane Maddox. It’s my scent. I had it created.”
My feet get gummed to the floor. “What?”
He smiles bashfully. “Last year I worked with a perfumer to create a signature smell for the hotels. While we were at it, I had one created for me, too.”
“Are you blushing?”
“No. It’s hot in here.” He glances away, looking annoyed. “Are you going to start dancing again? Or keep standing there?”
“Sorry.”
We start back up, and after a few seconds, he murmurs, “I don’t really talk about this.”
