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I force a shrug that I don’t mean. “Fine. Tell Davis you had a senseless notion that I would chase you when it was clearly signed in ink that you’re mine for the night. Let me be clear, Julia: I have no interest in following you around. If I did, I wouldn’t have made a deal for you.”
“Please,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “You love the chase. Every man like you does.”
“Man like me?”
Her casual nod infuriates me. “Every man who’s too rich for his own good. You all get bored so easily. That’s when you start doing stupid shit like flying to space and hunting rhinos. You’re bored. Trying to get me to sleep with you is the most interesting thing you’ve done in years.”
“Delusional,” I snap, taking a step closer to her so our bodies are mere inches apart.
Unflinchingly, Julia faces me. “Lie to me and tell me I’m wrong,” she counters before her expression brightens. “I bet I can get you to prove how much you love a chase right now.”
“Right now?”
“Right. Fucking. Now.”
Ah, I love intrigue. At this moment, I hate how much I love it.
“Fine. I’ll bite,” I relent. “What could you possibly do to prove I love a chase?”
“Didn’t you go to MIT?” she asks innocently, dangling the question as a taunt. “Chase me, asshole.”
I have to process if I really heard her ask me to chase her. She’s insane. “Excuse me?”
“Chase me,” she repeats, taking a small step closer so the space between us is now almost negligible. “If you can catch me, you can have me. If not, I’m going home. It’s that simple.”
“I’m not going to chase you.”
“Yes you are.” She takes a step back and surveys me up and down. “Oh, but you’re out of your prime, Daddy. I doubt you can catch me.”
The way I heat when she says that. I’m torn between kicking her out and calling off the deal, and saying yes so I can finally carry her upstairs and make her scream my name. When she releases a soft chuckle, she makes the decision for me.
“Run,” I grit out, unable to stop myself. “If I catch you, I’m fucking you. If you can make it to your car, I’ll drive you back to the airport.”
Both of her eyebrows rise. “You mean it?”
Her reaction is her first break—a sign she genuinely thought she would win this game. Against another man, sure. Against a more desperate man, sure. But me?
Hell no.
“I don’t ever joke around, Julia.”
Her surprise shifts to excitement. “Then come and get me, August,” she taunts.
Without hesitation, Julia takes off and runs to the dining room. Not a bad choice on her part. The dining room leads out to the living room, the hallway, and a breakfast nook—a wealth of options.
I hedge my bets and assume she’s not interested in cat and mouse. More than likely, she’ll go straight for the front door. I cut around to the living room, giving myself a chance to intercept her if she takes the path I suspect she will. Sure enough, she rounds the corner from the other direction at the same moment I do. When she sees me, she immediately does an about face and reverses her path.
Her bare feet pound on the wooden floor, rhythmic and soft. I give her a five second head start before I trail her, which proves to be a brilliant move when I get an incomparable glimpse of her shapely legs as her short skirt rides up.
At the end of the hall, she looks both ways before she darts into the library. I follow her. Lunging, I catch the door, barely missing her. She moves through the dark library, swerving between a duo of armchairs before she makes it to the door on the other side.
We’re back in the hallway, with Julia a few feet ahead of me. I know she regrets turning down the tour I offered her when she opens the door to a powder room and swears loudly before glancing in my direction. My proximity urges her into another burst of speed, and she finds the door leading back into the kitchen.
To my surprise, she heads straight for the living room and cuts across it to the front door. And yes, leaving was the point of the game, but I figured it was just a game and she wouldn’t be so impulsive as to—
Julia reaches the front door and fumbles to undo the locks. Realization collides into me: She’s willing to go outside in that nothing of a dress to prove a point. Immediately, my stomach lurches at the thought of her barefoot in the frigid cold. I swing forward and grab her backwards, pulling her off her feet.
She thrashes, trying to escape my grasp, so I let her. I release all but her wrist, leaving her facing me with her arm locked tightly in my fist. Eyes wild, she glances at our hands and then back at my face.
