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even
more
intrigued.
    â€œOh, you’ll know, fair Weatherly. You’ll know.”

FIVE
    Weatherly
    With his swirling silver eyes sucking me into them like a vortex, Tag lifts my hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles. I feel his warm breath and the soft friction like a teasing caress between my legs. I’ve never met someone so . . . so . . .
potent.
Everything about him works together to form a powerfully persuasive concoction—his mesmerizing eyes, his cocky grin, his voice, his words, his sexily innocuous taunts. I’m not even sure he set out to seduce me, yet that’s exactly what’s happening.
    Maybe I was in need of seduction. Maybe I was in such need of something so extraordinarily
not me
that I was ripe for the picking. For
his
picking. Or maybe this chance encounter is simply the intersection of all the right conditions coming together to create the perfect storm of emotion and attraction and opportunity. I don’t really know, and the thing is, I don’t think I really
want to
.
Everything in my life has to be given such thoughtful consideration—how it will reflect on the family, how it will affect my future, how controllable the end result will be. But this doesn’t. This is just mine. It has nothing to do with my family or my future. It’s mine. Mine alone. And I’ve never had anything that’s just mine before. Maybe that’s why I’m throwing myself into this with such a marked lack of thought and caution. It might be the only time in my life that I can.
    â€œSo,” Tag says, releasing my hand and leaning back. His face settles into a friendly smile and he raises his fork to dig into his food. “Tell me about this charity you’re so passionate about.”
    And so I do. I tell him about Safe Passage, about the staggering number of children in the Atlanta area who go hungry each day. I tell him about the strides we’re making in reaching more and more kids, and how rewarding the results are. Conversation flows naturally from that. Naturally and effortlessly. Like we’ve known each other all our lives, despite the fact that we only met a few hours ago. As strange as it sounds, I’m more comfortable with him than I can ever remember being.
    â€œAre you two still in here?” Stella asks when she pokes her head in from the kitchen.
    Tag winks at me before he turns to speak to his mother. “I can’t get her to shut up, but you don’t need to make her feel bad about it, Mom.” She waves him off with her hand and he chuckles.
    â€œBy all means, blame it on me,” I say acerbically.
    â€œShe knows me better than to think I could be held here against my will.”
    â€œI’m sorry if I’ve bored you going on and on about SafePassage. I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” I’m genuinely surprised to see that it’s nearly eleven.
    â€œI’ve enjoyed every minute. I like hearing what you’re passionate about.”
    How does he do that? Make every word sound devilishly delicious? He makes it seem as though everything that passes between us, no matter how innocuous, is intimate.
    â€œMaybe next time you can tell me what
you’re
passionate about.”
    â€œI’d be happy to.”
    There’s a protracted pause during which my nerves begin to jangle. “Well, I suppose I’d better get to bed. It’s been a long day.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re tired,” he adds. But he makes no move to get up. He just watches me with those disturbingly fluid eyes.
    â€œCan I help clean up?” I offer.
    â€œNo, I’ve got it.” He turns his head just enough to aim his next words over his shoulder. “Do you hear that, Mom?”
    â€œI heard you, Mr. Bossy Pants,” comes Stella’s voice from the kitchen, a voice that sounds less than robust.
    â€œI’ll get it. There’s a greater likelihood of her