Understanding filled Victor’s eyes. “But not a family.”
She sighed, lowered her chin.
He brought it back up with two fingers. “Are you pregnant?” he asked.
“No,” she denied instantly. “We haven’t . . . I haven’t—”
“Is owning this going to stop you from getting pregnant?”
“Of course not.”
He paused as if waiting for her to add something else.
All she could think of was this was not the conversation she wanted to have with him, although Avery, Lori, and Trina would all be asking the same thing.
“Since you and I have this honesty thing going on, something that makes me a little itchy, I’m not going to lie . . . let me spell this out to you the way I see it.” He turned her around to look at the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
She relaxed in his embrace and rested the back of her head against his shoulder. It felt way too good, and way too safe, to stand like they were.
“You and I met, which I’m guessing from what you’ve told me, had you putting your getting-pregnant-by-a-stranger plans on hold. Am I right so far?”
“Yes,” she murmured, glad she wasn’t looking into Victor’s eyes with her confession.
“Phew. That’s a good thing. I haven’t punched a guy since junior high and don’t mind the thought of never doing that again.”
She giggled.
“Based on the fact that you haven’t jumped me and that you told me about those baby plans, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you’re not trying to trick me into being your baby daddy.”
“I would never—” She started to pull away and turn toward him.
He stopped her by holding her tighter, resting his chin on her shoulder, and kissing her cheek. “Shhh, I know you wouldn’t.” He paused. “Personally, and probably selfishly, I like the thought of you buying this place or a different one with the same layout. It gives you time to find your new pace in life and us time to get to know each other better.”
Her mind raced and caught up with his. “You know, when a man tells you exactly what you want to hear, it’s probably bullshit.”
He hugged her tighter. “I’m a pretty good negotiator. Even better when I know the motivation of the person I’m negotiating with. Which in this case is you. I promised I wouldn’t play you, and that’s not what I’m doing.” He sighed. “This is not the kind of place to raise a family.”
“It isn’t.”
“Which is why you’re hesitating.”
She stayed silent.
He placed his lips close to her ear. “You’re looking at this place as if you’re abandoning the idea of being a mother. And I look at this place as if you’re considering that I might just be the father.”
Shannon twisted in his arms, backed up, and stared him in the eye.
He stared back.
Dumbstruck. There really wasn’t another word to describe how rooted in silence she became with his observation. Maybe because the picture he painted made her realize that was exactly what buying this place meant.
“Most men would be running away if they thought that were true,” she finally uttered.
He reduced the space between them and placed a hand on her cheek. “You underestimate yourself.”
Her heart was racing. “Victor—”
“Shh . . . I need to do something.” He licked his lips and lowered them to hers.
Damn if she didn’t melt, right there in a somewhat dingy room occupied by more dust than light, and her world tilted.
An hour later she was writing up an offer and submitting it to the owners of the loft.
Shannon had been to dozens of events like the one Victor had invited her to. From charities to fundraisers, the players may change names, but their motivations were always the same.
Most of the charity dinners were filled with wealthy people who needed the personal and business tax write-offs the events offered. Because they were filled with millionaires dressed in five-thousand-dollar suits or dripping in jewelry, the typical businessman or -woman used the event to make new contacts, schmooze old clients, or otherwise increase their bottom line.
Shannon didn’t think Victor’s event, or motivation, would be any different.
She picked her dress carefully. Something she hadn’t been seen in with Paul, although many of those dresses had been donated shortly after the divorce. She did have a few she pulled out if she thought Paul might be at the event she was attending. Each one of them had a memory of him attached to it. She pushed past several and removed two that she’d purchased while on one of the many First Wives weekends in the past year.
“Conservative? Or lots of skin?” she asked herself aloud.
She approached the full-length mirror wearing only her panties and held each dress up to her frame. The black dress was safer, with a low back that said sexy and a front that said sophisticated.
Then there was the copper sequins with a neckline that plunged so low in the front it would require a little tape to keep her from exposing herself to the room. She thought about Victor’s observation about her being an exhibitionist and him being a voyeur.
The black went back in the closet, and Shannon sat down at her vanity and started to work on her hair. Messy bun, nothing tight and uppity. Free. She went a little heavier on her eyeliner and added those pointy ends that Avery did so well. She slid on a pair of nude strappy Jimmy Choos before stepping into her dress. It took a little yoga to zip up the back, but not as much as usual, since the back was nearly as provocative as the front.
A little tape here and a little tape there.
She turned in a circle, ran a hand over her stomach.
There were perks to her slender frame, and wearing dresses like this one, where the straight lines hugged only the right parts and accentuated her breasts, was one of them.
She finished with a pair of diamond cut curtain earrings that flowed from her ears nearly as much as the dress flowed at her heels. A simple diamond bangle bracelet. No necklace. Eyes would be on her. And if a man’s gaze lingered longer than expected, it wouldn’t be because he was admiring her jewelry.
She could nearly feel the heat of Victor’s gaze already.
Her small clutch was filled with the necessities. Lipstick, powder, her ID, cell phone, a little bit of cash, and a condom.
She grinned at the last item and snapped her purse closed.
Her doorbell rang and she checked the time.
Five minutes early.
She smiled and grabbed her coat. There was no way she was going to reveal this dress to Victor until they arrived at the event.
Her heels clicked along the tile floor on her way to the door. Shannon tied her belt on the long coat, squared her shoulders, and smiled.
Victor was in a tux. Clean-shaven, his thick, dark hair combed back. She drank him in.
He looked past her eyes to her hair and the bottom of the coat where her dress peeked through. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a very long night?”
“Because you’re wise that way?”
He growled and stepped closer for a kiss. “You’re beautiful.”
His lips met hers, soft, simple. “I like the tux.”
“I haven’t met a woman who didn’t.” He winked. “Are you ready?”
Shannon reached around the door and locked it, then remembered the need for a key and retrieved one from her kitchen. She tucked it into her purse, saw the condom, and wondered if she would need it before the end of the night.
Victor placed a hand on the small of her back and led her to the waiting limo outside.
“Someone went all out.”
“I only do a couple of these a year. What’s the point of having money if you don’t enjoy it once in a while?”
She thought of the three-thousand-dollar gown she was wearing and said, “I completely agree.”
Because of the infamous LA traffic, it took them nearly an hour to drive to the venue.
Victor poured champagne in the back of the limo and told her about the event.
“They call it Global Task Force. GTF for short. It’s been around for a while but started to get its legs when recycling became a fashion.”
“I didn’t realize tossing my plastic in the right color barrel was fashion.”
“For a lot of people, it is. They do a pretty good job of bringing awareness to smaller cities that haven’t adopted the idea of recycling on a bigger scale. They have events like this one, where computer companies meet with guys like me who make a profit from removing the usable parts and melting down those that aren’t.”
“I thought you were in scrap metal.”
“I am. I’m just using that as an example.”
“Got it. So who am I going to meet tonight?”
He topped off her champagne and smiled. “Some of my oldest clients, like I told you before. Good people. I think you’ll like them.”
Shannon narrowed her eyes. “Most of these events are all about posturing for power.”
“There will be a fair amount of that, but not from me. My accountant told me years ago to pick a couple of charities I could honestly give money to at events like this. My lawyer added that I shouldn’t get heavily involved in the slight chance the charity ended up in scandal.”
“That’s actually really smart.”
Victor leaned back. “And the food is usually pretty decent.”
She laughed. “It’s all about the food.”
“And the company,” he added. His warm eyes held hers.
“There’s probably going to be cameras?”
He nodded. “I thought of that.” He lifted his glass to hers. “We’re exploring our options, right?”
She drank to that.
Limousines and fancy cars lined up. Thankfully, there wasn’t a mob of photographers . . . just a couple that seemed to be there only for the charity.
Victor stepped out of the limo first and offered his hand as she exited the car.
They walked in together, her hand tucked in the crook of his arm. The event was held at a dining hall of a country club that overlooked the Pacific Ocean.