Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Hollie
Jiminy freaking Cricket.
I’d convinced myself he couldn’t possibly be as good looking as I’d imagined, but sitting across the other side of this gigantic room from Dexter Daniels, it was clear I’d just been delusional.
And it wasn’t just how he looked. It was the way he carried himself.
It was as if he were the sun and we were all orbiting him, our only option to surrender to his gravitational pull.
He was so confident and relaxed, as if nothing could faze him.
What would happen if I went up behind him and tickled him under his arms?
He’d probably forgotten about me by now and moved on to Gigi or Bella.
Or some other tall, leggy supermodel who didn’t have one boob half a cup size bigger than the other.
I glanced down at my chest. Autumn swore she couldn’t tell but she also told me I was the best jewelry designer in the world, so she was clearly full of it.
There was no doubt he was gorgeous, the kind of man who was every girl’s type.
Was there such a thing as being universally handsome?
His suit was blue—not navy—and the color emphasized the black of his hair.
His voice was deep with a hint of roughness, like the sound a five-o-clock shadow would make.
His hands were capable and strong. We didn’t get many men like Dexter at the Sunshine Trailer Park. Or maybe in all of Oregon.
Out of nowhere everyone started clapping and the plates that had held our lunches were being whisked away from in front of us.
Our table was the eight-member competition team of Sparkle. Most other jewelry houses had their own tables, and some had even filled two. We all shifted to see the two people standing behind the lectern at the far end of the room.
I glanced over at Dexter to see if his attention had also been captured, only to find him looking right at me. The corners of his mouth twitched as we locked eyes, as if he’d just been told a dirty joke in his grandma’s house. I quickly looked away.
I tried to resist covering my heating cheeks, knowing the movement would just draw attention to my embarrassment.
I pretended to be engrossed in what was happening behind the lectern.
While the two women in front of us were speaking, I tried to stay focused.
In the end I pulled out my notebook and started making notes, just so I’d be forced to follow what they were saying, which wasn’t very much.
Something about having the honor of hosting the competition.
How the best of the best were all in the same room.
They were looking forward to unveiling the designs.
Then someone else was welcomed on stage.
A tall, slender guy with a shock of white-blond hair.
I’d missed who he was, but he looked like he’d be in the airport, welcoming everyone to Finland.
When he started talking about his mother and his soon-to-be-married sister, I figured out we were in the presence of royalty.
Actual royalty, and I’d nearly missed it because of darned Dexter Daniels.
We’d only had one conversation and already I was missing vital pieces of information because he was so distracting.
That was it. I was determined not to look in his direction again. I wouldn’t even think about that chiseled jaw, those blue eyes and large hands that fit so deliciously in the small of my back. No siree.
I scribbled furiously for the rest of the presentation, completely focused on what was being said. The prince talked passionately about Finland and the environment and how the charitable causes being supported through this competition were important to his entire family.
As he stepped off the podium, everyone stood and applauded.
While I was clapping, there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned and found myself face-to-face with Dexter.
So much for pretending he didn’t exist.
“Hollie,” he said. “Good to see you again.”
“Hi,” I said as breezily as I could manage. “Great speech, right?”
“Inspiring,” he said, grinning at me as if I’d said something hilarious.
I glanced around, checking that no one from Sparkle was scowling at me for fraternizing with the competition, but no one was paying any attention to me.
I turned back to him, staring at his Adam’s apple as if looking him in the eye would turn me to stone—mush more likely.
“So, I didn’t call,” I said, feeling awkward at our closeness and slightly ridiculous not meeting his gaze.
“I figured you must have mislaid my card,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, irritated at his arrogance, and finally looked him in the eye.
This guy didn’t have the power to turn me to mush.
He overestimated himself, just like most men, and I wasn’t going to indulge him.
“Nope. I know it’s hard to believe, but there are women in this world who actually don’t want to have dinner with you. ”
He paused, his grin never faltering. “I can think of a number of women who fit that description. But you’re not one of them.”
Was this guy for real? I’d refused to give him my number, for crying out loud. And I hadn’t called him. Why would he assume I wanted to have dinner with him? “It must be the way I keep calling and texting you that has you thinking like that,” I said, folding my arms.
He chuckled, and a voice in my head told me to turn and walk away. This guy was trouble. Not because he was cocky but because he was right. I did want to have dinner with him. And I didn’t like that he knew that.
“Nope. Not that,” he replied.
“Is it the way I sent you panties in the mail?”
“They were from you?” he asked, and I had to bite back a smile when I rolled my eyes this time. “I’ve not quite worked out why you didn’t call, but I know it’s not because you don’t want to have dinner with me.”
“Actually, I don’t,” I replied. A pit started to form in my gut at the prospect of him taking me at my word, and finding some other woman to badger about going to dinner.
I liked being that woman.
“I don’t find you attractive. I’m not into British guys.”
He nodded as if he were carefully considering my words. “Give me your phone.”
I pulled out my brand-new company mobile. I swear, I had never touched anything that expensive. I bet Dexter was going to check if I’d saved his number—to use that as proof I really did want to go on a date with him. “Here,” I said, having unlocked it.
He scrolled through my four contacts, and I waited for him to hand it back with his tail between his legs when he saw he wasn’t listed.
His phone started to ring and he ignored it, then passed me back my phone.
“There,” he said. “Now I have your number and mine is saved in your phone. This way I get to convince you to have dinner with me.”
Well, he wasn’t lacking in confidence.
“Have you heard of the Me Too movement?” I asked. “You know no means no.”
He pulled away from me just a fraction and, holding my gaze, blinked once.
Then twice. “Hollie, sexual harassment is something to be taken seriously. If you’re uncomfortable, tell me now and I’ll delete your number and walk away.
If we’re flirting, having fun, and for some reason you’re a little scared to come to dinner with me and need some convincing, then that’s another matter. ”
My head buzzed with heat. I needed to flee from this place as if it were on fire.
Dexter had an answer for everything and seemed to have the measure of me.
More reasons to run for the hills. I kept telling myself I didn’t want to be distracted by some guy in London, but the truth was, I had a sinking feeling Dexter wasn’t just some guy.
“A lot of convincing,” I corrected him. Darn.
I hadn’t meant to show him a chink in my armor.
I’d meant to tell him I was absolutely not interested in him and that I didn’t want him to call.
But the way he looked at me as if he wanted to uncover all my secrets and tell me all his .
. . The way his hand felt as he’d helped me out of the car—as if he could protect me from anything.
And the way he said my name like he’d never heard anything quite so exotic.
It was all too overwhelming. Despite the logical side of my brain telling me to run far away, the thumping in my chest and the pulsing ache somewhere far below it overruled my head.
Like it or not, I wanted him to convince me to go to dinner with him.
“Challenge accepted,” he said, before turning to disappear into the crowd.