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“Yes. I agree,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “and I have the perfect solution.”
“There is no solution. I have to protect Sam.” Sam and me.
“Of course there is.” Dante tilted her face to his. “You’ll move out of the guest suite.”
One night? Was that all he’d wanted? Tally forced herself to nod in agreement.
“Of course. I’ll find an apartment and—”
“And,” he said softly, “you’ll move in with me. We’ll let Sam see that we are—that we are together. That we are part of each other’s lives, and that she is, too.”
Tally stared at him, her face a mask of confusion. Was she trying to find a way to tell him she wouldn’t go along with his plan? It had come to him during the night; he’d been pleased with it until this moment, when he realized that Tally might not want to be with him this way.
“Tally.” His hands slid to her shoulders. “Please.” His fingers bit into her flesh. “Tell me want to be with me. I don’t want to lose you again. Say yes.”
Her head whispered of reservations, of questions, of why the arrangement would never work…
But Tally listened to her heart and said, “Yes.”
CHAPTER TEN
THROUGHOUT THE AGES, wise men caution that a man who makes decisions in the heat of the moment might very well live to regret them.
Dante had always agreed.
He was not impulsive. He made choices only after he had examined all the facts. If a man did anything less, he might, indeed, live to regret his decisions.
And yet, he’d acted on impulse when he’d asked Tally to live with him.
It should have been a mistake. The worst mistake of his life, considering that he’d never asked a woman to do that before. Living together, spending your days and nights with one woman, was the kind of involvement he’d always avoided. He liked to come and go as he pleased, to spend time in a woman’s company only when he was in the mood.
Add a small child to the mix and a man would surely go crazy.
At least, that was what he’d have said of this new arrangement a week ago. A disaster in the making, he’d have called it…
Dante smiled as he stood at his office window and watched the lights wink on over Manhattan.
He’d have been wrong.
Asking Tally to live with him had turned out to be the best decision he’d ever made. Being with her, with Samantha, had already changed his life.
He’d lived in New York for more than a dozen years and most of that time he’d lived very comfortably. As his fortune grew, he’d become accustomed to a certain start and finish to his day.
In the morning, his housekeeper would ask if he’d be home for dinner; in the evening, she’d inquire pleasantly as to how his day had gone. If the doorman made a comment beyond “Good morning” or “Good evening” it was about the weather. His driver might exchange a few polite words with him about European soccer or American football.
Dante’s smile became a grin. How that had changed!
Mrs. Tipton regaled him with stories about Sam. Carlo, whose grandson turned out to be Sam’s age, was a font of helpful advice. Even the doorman got into the act with details of Sam’s latest adventure among the big potted plants in the lobby.
Sam herself, a bundle of energy with big green eyes and a toothy grin, started and ended his days with sloppy kisses.
Amazing, all of it.
But most amazing was his Tally, who fell asleep in his arms each night and awoke in them each morning. She was the most incredible woman he’d ever known, and he wasn’t the only one who thought so.
His architect told him she had the best eye for detail he’d ever seen. His contractor said she made suggestions that were as innovative as they were practical. Even his P.A., a woman who had seen everything and was surprised by nothing, called her remarkable.
His household staff flat-out adored her.
