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“We were talking about getting cancer or being hurt or…”
“Blake saying yes to fathering my child.”
“Oh, honey, bless your heart,” Becky said, as she saw the tears in her eyes.
“He did that once, you know.” Annie’s voice was little more than a whisper.
And then he’d left the country on business, even though Annie had begged him not to go, and she’d miscarried, and he hadn’t come back….
CHAPTER THREE
“THANKS FOR SEEING ME, Mr. Smith. I brought a copy of my résumé for you.” The twenty something, smartly dressed young man seemed to have enough energy for the two of them Friday morning. A damn good thing, as Blake had slept little in the two nights since his ex-wife’s invasion of his life.
“I’m sorry if Marta gave you the impression I’m hiring,” he said now, taking the linen-covered portfolio he’d just been handed. “I’m a one-man show in here and my secretary’s got all of the administrative duties covered.”“She did relay that information,” Colin Warner said, his slightly spiky hair bringing an inward grin to Blake’s rather bleak state of mind. He tried to picture any of the Wild Bunch showing up at the poker table with similar hair—or any kind of styling, for that matter. “I’d still like to speak with you, if I may.”
Better that, Blake told himself, than think about friendships and impossible requests from determined women.
“Marta said you have a proposition for me.”
“I do—an investment.”
Eyes narrowed, Blake shifted in his chair. “Go on.”
“Just not your usual sort.”
“How do you know my usual sort?” If he had one, he didn’t know about it.
“Everyone has his or her own unique signature, a personal collection of habitual actions, with which he leaves an individual mark on the space he occupies.”
In theory, Blake agreed.
“You, for example, tend to buy based on three things—global use, word of mouth and thorough financial analysis. You’ve been in business for two years, you’ve dealt mainly in real estate and insurance, though there’s the half interest in Cowboy Bob’s….”
A steak franchise that one of his uncle’s former clients had brought his way.
“Land, peace of mind and food—things everyone needs. You buy only when you’re approached, and you’ve made a profit on every single transaction to date.”
Did this kid know Blake was set to clear close to a quarter of a million this year, too?
Did he know what kind of toilet paper Blake used?
Because he prided himself on giving everyone a shot—and was in need of a diversion—Blake continued to listen.
“What I have to offer you fits only one of those three models.”
“What do you have to sell?” Blake asked, wishing he’d taken a moment to look over Warner’s résumé. The kid was entertaining, if nothing else.
“Me.”
“You.” He’d just said he wasn’t hiring. The income he’d earned this past year could just as easily be cut in half if he made a bad choice. But Blake could take that risk when he had only himself to consider.
And Marta. While most of Smith Investment’s profit went back into the business, Blake could afford one decent salary.
One. Not two.
“I’ve got a bachelor of business administration in finance from Texas A & M, with a specialization in investment analysis and valuation.”
Blake wasn’t surprised.
