Or maybe it is, considering I cannot stop the nervous laughter bubbling from my lips. “If someone had told me I would be sitting in Denver, having dinner with a gorgeous prodigy billionaire architect tonight who’d be giving me compliments, I’d have suggested they needed medical attention.” I reach for my champagne and sip. “I’m not a recluse. I just wish I could be sometimes.” “And the most bizarre part of that reply is your arguing that you aren’t a recluse. Billionaire”—I lift my hand—“no argument there.” He sets his glass down, and his hand goes to my leg, sending darts of heat up my thigh. “I am what I am.” It is a sobering statement and, probably compliments of the champagne, I cannot seem to hold back a wistful reply of, “That’s an enviable trait.” “And that means what?” I down my champagne and he arches a surprised brow. I’m pretty surprised myself. I value a tightly controlled tongue. “I don’t drink much and I haven’t eaten all day so that probably wasn’t smart.”
What do You think about Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality?
