Kitabı oku: «At The Playboy's Command: Millionaire Playboy, Maverick Heiress», sayfa 3

Three

As Elizabeth melted against that amazing wall of heat, she couldn’t hold on to a thought, other than to know that this caress went above and beyond any she’d ever experienced, in real life or in dreams.

As Daniel’s strong arms urged her closer and her palms filed up beneath his coat and over the solid scope of his chest, she absorbed every ounce of the magic. Her heart beat so fast she feared it would burst any moment. He’d unleashed such a torrent of emotion from so deep inside she could barely get enough air.

Elizabeth sighed in her throat.

Daniel Warren kissed like a god.

As hot fingertips massaged her nape, with a teasing lack of speed, his mouth gradually left hers. Now was the time she should open her eyes, demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing, pouncing on her like that, forcing her to succumb. But that delicious syrupy feeling humming through veins was just so fine. She felt as if she were floating two feet off the ground. As if her blood were singing. That Daniel Warren was practically a stranger, as well as someone who could never empathize with her situation, didn’t quite register through the haze.

She only wanted him to kiss her again.

“Elizabeth?”

His voice was a husky whisper at her ear. The slide of his palm around her cheek left her trembling and leaning more into his touch. She felt the warmth of his breath on her forehead, on her temple. On reflex, her lips parted again and her face tipped toward his.

“Elizabeth, I can’t say I didn’t want to do that,” he murmured in a drugging, deep voice. “Doesn’t mean I should have.”

His words swirled around through her mind until, little by little, their meaning took hold. Then, all at once, her chest squeezed and eyes snapped open. He was looking at her, gaze dark with regret. In that moment, the reality of what he’d done, what she’d let him do, flooded Elizabeth’s senses until she prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

Good Lord, what must he think of her? One minute they were enmeshed in a heated discussion, the next she was twining herself around him like a clingy summer vine. Like a teenager her first time out necking. Elizabeth Milton was known not only for her spirit but also her decorum, and yet this man ignited fires within her that had reduced her to little more than a puddle. She’d never felt more vulnerable.

More alive.

Sucking in a breath, she dropped her arms, which had remained around his neck, and took an awkward step back. As his heat receded, the cool of the shadowed night enveloped her. Trembling, she drew her coat close.

“No need to apologize,” she said in a thick voice. Avoiding his gaze, she shrugged. “Sometimes, when emotions run high, things happen.”

“I want you to know, I don’t make a habit of dragging women into my arms like that.” He ran a hand through his hair, looked around. Out the corner of her eye, she saw him crack a lame smile. “Must be something in the air.”

She closed her eyes and withered. If she could turn back time and wipe out these past few moments, she’d do it in a blink. That she’d surrendered so completely was bad enough. Did he need to rub in the fact that he regretted it, too?

“Daniel, please don’t worry that I’ll give another moment’s thought to it.” She tilted her head and drawled, “I have been kissed before.”

He didn’t reply, didn’t move. Only his eyes glittered in the moonlight as time stretched out and, growing increasingly edgy, she wondered whether he would ever leave or call her bluff and announce she might have been kissed, but never like that.

But then he exhaled, took a look back over his shoulder toward the house and nodded once before he walked away. “Take care.”

Her pulse beating in her ears, Elizabeth watched Daniel walk away down the path until his silhouette disappeared into the night. A few moments later, the engine of his SUV kicked over. She waited, alone in the shadows, until the rumble had faded clean away. Then she dropped her head into her hands and, cringing, cursed herself for a fool.

How could she confide in a near stranger such personal information? When he’d confronted her regarding the morality of her parents’ will, why hadn’t she laughed it off rather than grow defensive? She knew her own mind. She did have a choice. She did.

And then …

Oh God, then there was that kiss.

The nerves that were bunched tight in her belly kicked then knotted again. She’d given herself over to the thrill of that uninvited caress so quickly and completely it frightened her—and, in some strange way, it comforted her, too. That embrace was the kind a woman would still recall in her twilight years. The kind that would cause her eyes to drift shut and chest to heave a contented sigh.

Setting off down the path bordered on either side by flowering sage, Elizabeth touched her lips, thought back on the dizzy pleasure and found she was smiling. Daniel might think he had some God-given right to force his opinion where it wasn’t needed, but he still was the finest specimen of the male species she’d ever come across. Not simply because he was more attractive than most billboard models, or that he seemed to naturally dominate any space he inhabited. Despite their differences—and there were a few—she enjoyed his company. His sexy, deep laugh. It was silly, useless, and yet she couldn’t help but wonder …

What if his home had been Texas or hers New York? What might have been if they’d had similar backgrounds and goals? What if, instead of apologizing for his roguish behavior, he’d hauled her back in and demanded she kiss him again?

When Elizabeth entered the house through the back patio door, she stopped dead in her tracks then let out a breath. She should have known she’d have company.

“I thought he liked my cooking,” Nita said with a slight frown. The older woman held two cups in her hands.

“He said to thank you for the beautiful meal. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Elizabeth said, withdrawing a pin and shaking out her hair as she headed for her room, “I’m tired.”

“Good idea. I mean, will you look at the time. Past nine o’clock.”

Elizabeth served Nita a fond but stern glare as she passed. “It’s been a long day.”

“That’s all right. That’s fine.” Nita stared at the ceiling as if she had nothing better to do. “If you don’t want to tell me what happened …”

Elizabeth held her looping stomach and groaned. “You don’t want to know.”

“I’m the best listener in and around these parts.” With an understanding smile, she presented the cups of hot chocolate. “Made ‘em when I heard his car.”

Knowing when she was beaten, Elizabeth lowered herself onto a nearby settee.

She took the cup her friend offered and held the warmth between her palms. But rather than spill all about her time outside with Daniel, something even more important begged to be voiced.

“Were you surprised by my parents’ will? Did Mom ever speak to you about it?”

“To my mind, it was more your dad’s idea.” Nita sat back and rotated the cup around in her work-worn hands. “The ranch was built up through his side of the family. Grandpa Milton was a hard man. Always talking about the responsibilities your father would need to step up and accept once he passed on. Guess your father had that in mind when he drew up that clause.”

“He should have known I’d never give up the ranch. This is my home.”

“You were always one to see where adventure might take you.” She lifted the cup to her mouth. “Maybe things haven’t changed so much.”

Elizabeth knew the point Nita was making. She couldn’t argue that the idea of experiencing something different and exciting had encouraged her to invite the New York architect here tonight. And, admittedly, matters had got a little out of hand when their opposing opinions had clashed and heated emotions flared.

But a kiss in the dark was far from running away and turning her back on her duty.

“I would never let my parents down,” she said to herself as much as to Nita. Never.

And yet sometimes … Trying to swallow the lump caught in her throat, Elizabeth concentrated on her cup. “Do you ever wonder whether that caveat in their will was fair?”

“I don’t know if that’s the question you should be asking.” Nita tipped forward. “Beth, you’d still have plenty to live on if you decided to walk away. One thing’s a constant. Nothing ever stays the same.”

“In these past years, I’d never thought beyond living here, giving it my best, making it work. One day I’d like to marry, have a family.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Elizabeth found a smile but then sobered. “Would my parents expect me to put the same ultimatum in my will?” She’d taken on the challenge to hold on to where she’d come from, who she was. But could she pass that heavy baton on to her own daughter or son? Would they hate her for it if she did?

When the lump in her throat grew all the more, Elizabeth growled at herself. “Lord, I’m all muddled tonight.”

“A good-looking man will do that to you. A nice man, too, seems like. Intelligent,” Nita went on, matter-of-factly. “Amusing—”

“Daniel Warren’s life is in New York City,” Elizabeth cut in, pushing to her feet. “Anyway, we’ve known each other a day.”

Nita nodded as if that must be a consideration. “Do you know I was almost married?”

Elizabeth sat back down. “You never mentioned.”

“I was with a bunch of girlfriends at a nightclub in Dallas, celebrating my twenty-first. He stole my heart the moment our eyes met. We danced all night and when he took me home, he cupped my cheek and kissed me. I thought I would faint for sure.” Misty-eyed, Nita sighed. “I knew it would be him or no one. When he asked me to marry him two weeks later, I said yes.”

Elizabeth was on the edge of her seat. “What happened?”

“He was drafted.” Nita’s mouth tightened and she pushed her glasses back on her nose. “Never made it home.”

Her heart sinking, Elizabeth took the older woman’s hand. “Oh, Nita, I’m sorry.”

“Thing is, I’d rather have those two wonderful weeks than a lifetime as Mrs. Someone Else.” As the faraway look evaporated, she cleared her throat and got to her slippered feet. “Best let you get to bed. Sweet dreams, Beth.”

As Nita left her alone in the big room with its heavy timber furniture and portrait of Grandpa Milton hanging on the wall, Elizabeth leaned back into the cushions. The feelings Nita had for her young man must have been fierce. As fierce as the passion Daniel had coaxed from her tonight?

Bald truth was she wanted to see Daniel again. But given the way he’d left tonight—with an apology for weakening and kissing her when he hadn’t meant to—would he want to see her?

Gnawing her lower lip, Elizabeth’s frown slowly eased into a smile.

Maybe she could help him decide.

Four

The next morning, dying for coffee, Daniel entered the Royal diner. The concierge at the hotel must have passed on the same recommendation to his crew. Rand sat in a corner booth near the jukebox, polishing off a plate of ham and eggs. As Daniel crossed over, the younger man lifted his fork in greeting.

“Hey, we missed you at dinner.”

Sitting down heavily, Daniel suppressed a yawn. He hadn’t slept a wink last night.

“I left a message,” he said, signaling the waitress.

Grinning, Rand finished munching a mouthful of toast. “You had a better offer?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m guessing from that doll in the fur.”

“Her name’s Elizabeth Milton.”

“Whatever her name, from the look, she didn’t take you back to her trailer for soda and chili dogs.”

The waitress brought over a cup and poured a steamy black coffee that smelled like heaven. “What’ll it be, sugar?”

“Coffee’s good,” he said, sliding the menu aside.

He’d been told anything ordered here was tasty and filling, but his appetite was lost, wondering what Nita had whipped up for breakfast this morning. Not to mention his obsessing about whether Elizabeth had tossed and turned all night, too.

He hadn’t been able to get that confounded kiss out of his head.

Of course, that could never happen again, Daniel told himself, scalding his tongue on a long pull from his cup. He was having a hard enough time making this trip a positive experience without throwing a gorgeous heiress held to ransom by her deceased parents into the mix.

Was he ever pleased that part of his past—having no say in where he went, how long he stayed—was well behind him. After the constant struggle of being shuttled between homes, between states, no way could he tolerate Elizabeth’s situation. And while nothing would change the fact that he found Miss Milton beyond attractive and interesting and charming, truth was he’d lost a little respect for her. If his parents had tried to blackmail him like that at her age, he’d have told them to go to hell in a handbag.

Rand was dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “What are you planning to do about the design?”

“Scrap it.”

Reaching for his cup, Rand froze. “You mean everything?”

“You were at the meeting. The black plague was a bigger hit.”

“Personally, I thought that model depicted the Old West at its best.”

“Point is this isn’t the Old West. Not anymore.” Daniel finished his coffee and signaled for another. “Abigail’s a friend but maybe I ought to retract my offer to submit.”

Hell, he should be home, preparing for next month’s visit from a client who needed a design for a new supermall, not downing coffee in a diner that looked like a reject from the fifties.

Leaning over the table, Rand dropped his voice. “You don’t need this job, boss. Your friend will understand.”

Understand? Abigail would most likely kick her heels if he suggested she might like to try someone else. The jet was fueled, ready to shoot them back to New York the moment he gave the word. Daniel took in the red-and-white upholstered booths, the diner’s sleepy clientele.

What the hell was he doing wasting his time here?

Across the table, Rand nudged his chin at the entrance. “Look who just walked in.”

A shiver running up his spine, Daniel spun around. Elizabeth Milton was sashaying inside like she’d been doing it all her life, which she had. Daniel told his heart to quit pounding. He didn’t know how she did it, but the woman looked even hotter this morning than she had last night. A pale pink dress with a matching short-sleeved jacket and pumps that drew the eye up over the splendor of those long, shapely legs. Tiny waist. Ample bust. Every line, every crest and valley was perfection. Then there were those lips …

When a throb kicked off low in his belly, Daniel panicked and pushed to his feet. He’d pretty much made up his mind to pull up anchor. That Elizabeth Milton had strolled in now made no difference. They’d already bade each other goodbye and good luck. They had nothing more to say.

While he slapped a few bills on the table, Elizabeth stopped to speak with a woman by the counter. From her relaxed body language, it was someone she’d known a long time. Daniel shoved his wallet in his back pocket while Rand collected his laptop and sidled out of the booth, too. Elizabeth had her back to them. If he hurried, he could save them both an awkward moment and duck out before she was any the wiser.

He headed for the door, Rand hot on his heels.

“I can make myself scarce,” Rand said, “if you want to, you know, say hi.”

Still striding, Daniel glared over his shoulder. “We’re leaving here together, packing up and saying goodbye to Royal for good.”

Rand’s mouth swung to one side. “You can tell Elizabeth Milton that. She’s on a crash course, headed this way.”

Daniel realigned his vision at the exact moment he plowed into something … someone. On reflex, his arms shot out and caught Elizabeth’s upper arms as she emitted a cry of surprise and toppled backward. Daniel swore under his breath.

Idiot. He should’ve watched where he was going. Now, not only did he and Elizabeth have to face each other, they’d made physical contact, skin on satin skin, and that was bad news. Those big green eyes, that fresh sweet scent. If they’d been alone, he’d have gone against every scrap of common sense he possessed and kissed her again.

He made sure she was steady on her pretty pink heels then, pasting on a smile, he released his hold and dug both hands safely away into his trouser pockets.

“Elizabeth. Hey, what a surprise.”

“You here trying some of our world-famous breakfast tacos?”

“Just coffee this morning.”

“Pining for Nita’s cooking?”

He slowly smiled. “That’s probably it.”

After the way they’d parted last night, why was she being so friendly? He wasn’t getting even a hint of frostiness. No sign of embarrassment. In fact, she radiated confidence. It was as if that moment last night in the moonlight had never happened. She said she’d been kissed before. Maybe this kind of thing was a regular occurrence.

Rand was easing around them. “I’m off. Lots to do.” He sent a smile to Elizabeth, a conspiratorial wink to Daniel, and made a beeline for the door. Daniel scowled after him. Traitor.

But if Elizabeth was big enough not to hold a grudge, considering he’d been the one to make that rash move in the first place, shouldn’t he show manners enough to give her a polite moment now? Not that he intended to drag it out. He had a phone call to make. Packing to do.

So why, when he had every intention of saying, Well, nice to have met you, have a great day, did it come out, “Would you like a coffee?”

At his offer, barely-there dimples appeared on either side of a dazzling smile. “I’d love one.”

The waitress and her coffeepot materialized beside them. “You two lovebirds need a table?”

Daniel suppressed a cough. He could take her calling him sugar, but lovebirds? Southerners were far too familiar. Talk like that could cause gossip. And gossip meant trouble.

Making certain to stand an arm’s length away from Elizabeth, he indicated the booth he and Rand had shared. “I was sitting over there.”

“Then let me clear those plates.” The waitress walked over with them, addressing only Elizabeth when next she spoke. “Word is those pesky flamingos have ended up on your front lawn.”

“I was going to make my donation today, but I thought I might keep them around a couple more days.”

The woman laughed, a throaty relaxed sound. “To scare the cows?”

“Who knows?” Elizabeth said with a cheeky grin. “They might come back in fashion.”

“Not where I come from,” Daniel muttered, sliding into that booth.

When the waitress looked at Daniel, Elizabeth explained, “Barb, Daniel here is from New York City.”

“Really? I’m hearing a lilt of an accent. South Carolina. Got an aunt from round that way.”

“I call New York home now.”

She deadpanned, “Whatever you say, sugar.” Her focus jumped to the other side of the booth, where Elizabeth was making herself comfortable. “Can I fetch you a menu, hon?”

“Just coffee,” they said together.

The waitress inspected her near-empty pot. “Need a fresh one.” She headed off. “Back in a flash.”

Elizabeth set her handbag down then clasped her hands on the table. “Now that we’re here, I might as well go ahead and tell you the story behind the club’s plaque.”

If he hadn’t left so abruptly, she’d have told him last night. But the situation had changed.

“No need,” he said.

Her smooth brow furrowed. “Oh? Why not?”

Because I’m throwing in my hand. Giving up and going back to where I belong. But he didn’t need to spill his guts, just because she was sitting here across from him, making him feel all jumpy, that amazing mane of hair cascading over her shoulders while she radiated curiosity and “you know you want to hold me again” vibes.

When he realized he was leaning over the table, stomach muscles clenching, he cleared his throat and lied. “A pressing matter’s come up. I need to get back to the city as soon as possible.”

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

“Just business.”

“Then I’d best not keep you.”

She made to stand but instead of doing the smart thing and letting her go, he lightly caught her hand. That same jet of sensation swam up his arm and, while he wanted to hang on, he let go fast. Physical contact was out, but now that coffee was ordered, he might as well sit back and listen.

“I really wouldn’t mind hearing that story,” he admitted.

She considered him for a moment before her expression eased and she lowered back down. “Well, if you have time. It goes way back to the War with Mexico. Did you notice the park next to the club headquarters?”

He got comfortable. “Sure.”

“Back in the early eighteen hundreds, just beyond that park, a parcel of missionaries set themselves up. The adobe church is still there. You’d know all about those.”

“Vaulted ceiling,” he said. “Naves that were slightly taller than they were wide. Few windows although the light was organized to illuminate the altar to dramatic effect. The walls needed constant remudding to stand a chance against the New World elements.”

She sent an impressed smile. “Ten out of ten.”

Sitting back, they let Barb fill their cups before going on.

“Back in the War with Mexico,” she said, when the waitress had left, “around 1846, a Texas solider found a fallen comrade. The soldier tried to save his life, but it was too late. It wasn’t until he was burying the body that he came upon the jewels. A black opal, an emerald and a red diamond. The dead man had no identification so the solider decided he’d take the jewels back with him to Royal. They’re so rare, each on its own is priceless, back then as well as now.”

“Did anyone ever find out why the fallen soldier had them?”

“Never, which makes the legend all the more mysterious, don’t you think?”

He grinned, spooning sugar into his cup. “So how do these gems relate to the plaque?”

“Apparently red diamonds are the gems of kings. That’s how the first quality of the plaque came to be—leadership. The black harlequin opal is perhaps the rarest. It’s said that this particular type of opal possesses healing powers and also an inner light that illuminates honesty, integrity or, more simply, justice.”

“The plaque’s second quality. And the emerald?” he asked, thinking of how her eyes were sparkling like priceless jewels as she spoke.

“For many centuries around the world emeralds have been thought to be the stone of peacemakers.”

“Leadership, Justice and Peace.” He nodded and smiled. “Nice. So where are these mysterious jewels now?”

“No one knows for sure. The story goes that the soldier had wanted sell them, buy an even bigger spread, build himself a whopping great mansion. But when he got home he struck oil.”

“Black gold.”

“Ended up he didn’t need to sell the jewels to make it rich.”

“Has anyone ever tried to find them?”

“Way back, even before Tex Langley’s time—”

“The founder of the Cattleman’s Club.”

“That’s right. A group of men got together, the legend goes, to guard the stones. Others say they were simply some of Royal’s leading citizens who’d made a pact to protect the town and its citizens. There are even some disbelievers who say those men just made up the story to build their motto around.”

“You don’t believe that?”

Her eyes flashed. “The legend’s far more exciting.”

“So, if the jewels exist, where do you think they are now?”

“Somewhere safe. Not that Royal’s big on crime. We’re big on oil and cattle.”

“There are always visitors,” he said, looking at her over the rim of his cup as he sipped.

She sent him a teasing look. “Are you aiming to go treasure hunting?”

He laughed and set his cup down. “Not this visit. You look as if the thought of a treasure hunt excites you.”

“I like finding new and beautiful things. A painting I can look at all day long. A song that gives me goose bumps because the words and tune are so full of meaning. Know what I mean?”

He smiled, nodded. Yeah, he knew.

“What’s your favorite piece?” he asked.

“Of music?”

“Of treasure.”

She stared into her cup for a long moment, considering. “I don’t know that I have one.” Her glittering eyes met his. “At least not yet.” She tipped forward. “Do you have any hidden treasures?”

The question took him aback. He did have one. Something he rarely took out because it was that precious. It mightn’t make sense to some, but the feelings it evoked … he could barely bring himself to look at it. But Elizabeth didn’t need to know any of that.

“No,” he lied. “I have nothing like that.” Straightening, he finger combed hair fallen over his forehead. “Any more Royal stories I should hear?”

“It’d take all day to go over this town’s history.” She glanced at the clock above the jukebox. “And you have a flight to catch. Have you told Abigail you’re leaving?”

“Not yet.”

“She’ll be disappointed.”

Or relieved.

He set aside the pang of guilt and disappointment in himself and laid another bill on the table. Glancing at his empty cup, he angled his legs out from beneath the table.

“Better get back to the hotel to pack.”

“I’m headed that way. Mind if I tag along?”

He should have at least hesitated. He was leaving. No need to prolong this impromptu meeting. Get any more involved. But as he found his feet, he heard himself say, “Not at all.”

That waitress stopped taking an order to watch them walk by and, it seemed, every other person they passed as they strolled down the street gave a curious smile and tip of their head. But Daniel didn’t care how many tongues would wag. Soon he’d be back home where a person could truly lose himself in the rush, although he wasn’t looking forward to the cooler weather, particularly after today’s pleasant change. Rather than shrugging into his coat, he folded it over an arm and, with a valid reason, inspected Elizabeth’s attire.

“No need for your fur today.”

She flashed a cheeky smile. “It’s not a real fur.”

He tucked in his chin. “Not real? It looks so …”

“Expensive? It is. For a fake.”

“That foxtail belt?”

“Imitation, too. One thing I did change at home was the so-called trophy room.” Despite the sun, she visibly shivered. “From as far back as I can recall, I’ve hated the thought of those walls.” She shot him a look. “Was your father into hunting?”

“He used to be.” When his stomach swooped a sick loop, Daniel cleared his throat and changed tack slightly. “He’s into the law now more than ever. He’s a judge.”

“Did he want you to study the law, too?”

“He demanded that I did.” Glaring dead ahead, he set his jaw. “Only made me more determined not to.”

She pretended to gape at him. “Why, Daniel Warren, you’re a rebel.”

“It’s not rebellious to want to live your own life.”

Decide when to come and when to go. He caught her downcast look. That last comment had obviously got her thinking about her own predicament, and so he swerved the conversation back onto a higher note.

“I wanted to do something different.”

She nodded a greeting to a middle-aged couple walking their dachshund then asked, “What got you interested in architecture?”

“My typical male brain. I like to build things. I thought about studying to be an engineer but a friend’s father was an architect. He showed me a few of his drawings one summer and I was hooked.”

“So, you’re a bit of an artist?”

“Couldn’t paint a landscape to save my life.”

“Ever tried?”

“I don’t set myself up for failure.” Seemed that monster steer-horn club design was an exception.

“You must have painted when you were a child,” she said.

“I’m not a child anymore.”

But a memory of someone else who’d loved his paint and easel at a young age pushed its way into Daniel’s mind. Clenching his stomach muscles, he embraced the image for just a heartbeat then forced himself to shunt it aside. He kept walking.

“I don’t paint,” he said. “Never will.”

“Not even to make someone you love happy?” she teased.

He answered with the utmost confidence. “Not even then.”

“I’ve tried. Unfortunately I sucked.” Something warm in his chest tugged at her soft laugh. “My dream is to one day own a Monet Water Lilies.” A diamond bracelet glittered in the sun as she wound a long wave behind an ear. “How long have you been working for yourself?”

Daniel shook off the image of Elizabeth looking stunning, standing before a panorama of those famous flowers to reply.

“I started the company five years ago.”

“From what I hear, you’ve certainly come a long way.”

“I put in a lot of hours,” he said, matching his pace to her languid stroll. “I made the right contacts and things came together.”

“You work hard,” she affirmed.

“Always.”

“Ever give yourself time off for good behavior?”

“I treat myself when I’m on location.”

“You mean when you’re away from home. Like now?”

He looked at her twice. Was that a leading note to her voice, or simply wishful thinking on his part? Concentrating on the path ahead, he thought again and laughed at himself. Get it together, Warren. The lady isn’t propositioning you. She’s staying true to her hospitable heritage and being polite.

“Most of my work comes from up north or overseas,” he pointed out.

“You don’t get down this way often?”

“This is the first time I’ve been in the South in over a decade.”

“Then maybe we’ll bump into each other again—” she gifted him a wry smile “—in ten years or so.”

The numbers tallied up in his head. In ten years he’d be forty-five. God willing, his business would still be going strong. But other than that …

Would he still have the same circle of friends? He’d probably still be a bachelor. Fact was he’d never contemplated marriage. After his abomination of an upbringing, he’d go so far as to admit he shuddered at the idea. If a woman he was seeing began to slow down whenever they passed the diamond rings laid out in a jewelry store window, he quit calling. Harsh, perhaps, but necessary. He wasn’t looking for a wife. Didn’t want a family or a son “to follow in my footsteps.” He’d sooner put a gun to his own head.