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“Do you dance?” He nodded to the crowded square of teak hardwood, where guests swayed and flowed to the beat of the jazz ensemble playing on a raised stage.
“Not in public.”
Something flittered across his face, and she had the impression he’d spun a private-dance scenario through his head. Lips pursed, he asked, “Are you sure we haven’t met before?”
“Positive.”
And Cia wished circumstances had conspired differently to continue their mutual lack of acquaintance. Men like Lucas—expert at getting under a woman’s skin right before they called it quits—were hazardous to someone who couldn’t keep her heart out of it, no matter what she promised herself.
But she’d make any sacrifice necessary to open a new women’s shelter and see her mother’s vision realized. Even marrying this man who radiated sensuality like a vodka commercial laced with an aphrodisiac. “We’re only meeting now because I have a proposition for you.”
A slow, lethal smile spilled across his face. “I like propositions.”
Her spine tingled, and that smile instantly became the thing she liked least about Lucas Wheeler. It was too dangerous, and he didn’t hesitate to wield it. Dios, did she detest being disconcerted. Especially by a man she hoped to marry platonically. “It’s not that kind of proposition. Not even close. I cannot stress enough how far removed it is from what that look in your eye says you assume.”
“Now I’m either really interested or really not interested.” Smoothly, he tapped his lips with a square-cut nail and sidled closer, invading her space and enveloping her with his woodsy, masculine scent. “I can’t decide which.”
The man had the full package, no question. Women didn’t throw themselves at his feet on a regular basis because he played a mean hand of Texas hold ’em.
“You’re interested,” she told him and stepped back a healthy foot. He couldn’t afford not to be, according to her meticulous research. She’d sifted through dozens of potential marriage candidates and vetted them all through her best friend, Courtney, before settling on this one.
Of course, she hadn’t counted on him somehow hitting spin cycle on her brain.
“So,” she continued, “I’ll get right to it. Hundreds of women suffer daily from domestic abuse, and my goal is to help them escape to a place where they can build new lives apart from the men using them for punching bags. The shelters in this area are packed to the brim, and we need another one. A big one. An expensive one. That’s where you come in.”
They’d already taken in more bodies than the existing shelter could hold, and it was only a matter of time before the occupancy violation became known. Lucas Wheeler was going to change the future.
A shutter dropped over Lucas’s expression, and he shook his head. “My money is not subject to discussion. You’re barking up the wrong sugar daddy.”
“I don’t want your money. I have my own. I just have to get my hands on it so I can build the shelter my way, without any benefactors, investors or loans.”
She flinched a little at her tone. What about this man brought out her claws?
“Well, darlin’. Sounds like I’m unnecessary, then. If you decide to go in the other direction with your proposition, feel free to look me up.” Lucas edged away, right into the sights of a svelte socialite in a glittery, painted-on dress, who’d clearly been waiting for the most eligible male in the place to reject her competition.
“I’m not finished.” Cia crossed her arms and followed him, shooting a well-placed glare at Ms. Socialite. She wisely retreated to the bar. “The money is tied up in my trust fund. In order to untie it, I have to turn thirty-five, which is nearly a decade away. Or get married. If my husband files for divorce, as long as the marriage lasts at least six months, the money’s mine. You’re necessary since I’d like you to be that husband.”
Lucas chuckled darkly and, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “Why is every woman obsessed with money and marriage? I’m actually disappointed you’re exactly like everyone else.”
“I’m nothing like everyone else.” Other women tried to keep husbands. She wanted to get rid of one as soon as possible, guaranteeing she controlled the situation, not the other way around. Getting rid of things before they sank barbs into her heart was the only way to fly. “The difference here is you need me as much as I need you. The question is can you admit it?”
He rolled his eyes, turning them a hundred different shades of blue. “That’s a new angle. I’m dying to hear this one.”
