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I look back at him. There is no smile in his expression now.

No teasing.

No easy confidence.

Just intent.

“If you want me anywhere near you again,” I say, “you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better than telling me you still want me.”

Ross nods.

“Then I will.”

I study him for a long moment. Part of me wants to believe him. That is exactly why I should leave. I step around him.

“We should go.”

This time, Ross moves aside.

“Okay,” he says.

I reach the doorway before I realize my hands are shaking. I force them still around the folio and keep walking.

I make it halfway down the corridor before I hear Ross behind me.

“Blaire.”

I stop but don’t turn immediately. My entire body is too aware of him, of the wine, the dinner and everything he said in that room. When I finally face him, he’s only a few feet away.

His gaze moves over my face. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” I reply, tightening my grip on the folio.

Ross takes one step closer. “Tell me to leave.”

“You should leave.”

His eyes hold mine. “That isn’t the same thing.”

The certainty in his voice irritates me because he’s right. I could walk away. I could tell him clearly to go, call a car and end the night here.

Instead, I stay where I am.

“You’re standing there looking at me like you want to drag me against the wall,” I say.

Ross’s jaw tightens. “Do you want me to lie about that?”

Heat flashes through me.

“No,” I reply.

“Then I won’t.”

He moves closer, slowly enough that I can stop him. His hand rises toward my face, but he hesitates before touching me, giving me every opportunity to step away.

I don’t.

“Blaire,” he says quietly.