Persuaded

CHAPTER ONE

Persuaded

Chapter One

I felt a twist and a slight jerk before the glass beads spilled all over the floor.

I'm such an idiot! This wasn't even my necklace!

He was supposed to have left by now. He'd already said goodbye to his friends. I watched as Gregory hovered in the doorway, obviously debating what to do. I decided I'd make it easier for him. I knelt on the floor and turned my back, completely ignoring him as I started to pick up the mess.

There. Now you can go. I don't need you. I sighed at the thought of being such a klutz in front of him. Suddenly, I saw long, lean fingers close to my shorter ones, picking up beads. I glanced up and at the top of Gregory's blonde head as he avoided looking at me. It had been years since I'd seen that head and those hands so close to my own.

What I expected least was the joy of having him so near. I'd anticipated misery and pain and awkwardness, but never joy. Since his return, I'd fully expected him to break my heart—a punishment I deserved.

Stunned into silence by my thoughts, I began to collect the beads again. This time I looked over and noticed that not only had Gregory placed the beads he'd collected into a pile, he'd also begun to organize them into groups of color and size.

Is he stalling? My heart began to race. Is he waiting for me to say something? He can't be hoping to be next to me longer, since he hates me. Hasn't he looked straight through me—as if I didn't exist—during the entire party? We haven't spoken one word to each other the whole night. Even when we were introduced, he just nodded and walked back to that girl. The beautiful brunette was, even now, waiting for him in the hall.

One blue glass bead. One green glass bead. One silver spacer bead. One . . .

"Thank you, Greg–Gregory."

He looked up then, but he still didn't meet my eyes.

I tried again. "You didn't have to, but thank you anyway. It was very nice of you." And more than I deserve.

He raised his head quickly as if my words shocked him, and his eyes finally met mine. My heart stopped. His deep, chocolate brown eyes set against blond hair and perfect features were as striking as I remembered. He was older, three years older. And extremely good looking. Dang, he's hot! my foolish heart whispered.

His eyes held mine far longer than my heart could handle, yet I didn't want to look away. I couldn't. I'd waited too long to see his incredible eyes again. Selfishly, I absorbed every moment he gave. There was so much I wish I could've said—so much I am sure he wouldn't want to hear, but I let it be. I remained silent and allowed the moment of our first real meeting in years to overwhelm me. I lived in the moment—something I was chided for doing three years ago. Something I vowed I would never make the mistake of not doing again. Never again would I be persuaded to disobey my heart.

He didn't smile. He didn't frown. He just searched my eyes and said, "You're welcome."

His unfamiliar deep baritone jarred me. If I wasn't frozen before, I was now. He spoke to me. He actually spoke to me!

I could see that he was very surprised. I realized that he must've broken some small vow to himself in that moment—probably a vow to never speak to me again.

Within seconds, he was standing again. He was going to leave, and there was nothing I could do to keep him next to me, nothing I could say. But I'd given that chance up long ago. He wasn't, nor would he ever be, mine.