ISABEL
"Do you want coffee?" I ask, the words leaving my lips before I could stop it.
His eyes darken. "We both know it's not about coffee."
"No," I agree. "It's not."
"Isabel," Ares says softly, stepping closer until he's right there, close enough to touch.
"Yes?"
"If you don't want me to come in, tell me now because once I'm inside, my control is going to be hanging by a thread."
My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears. I should send him away, I should thank him for dinner, shut the door and lock it and be sensible.
That's what the smart, professional Isabel would do. The VP who made calculated decisions and never let emotions compromise her judgment but I'm tired of being sensible.
I'm tired of denying myself what I want because of fear or propriety or concern about wh
