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Huisman had written a book about it. “You think he’s trying to rehab the family image?”
Oakley nodded. “I would if I was him. It’s hard to have that kind of scandal in the background. The good news for him is all the players are dead and gone with the exception of his father’s victim, and she seems the forgiving type.”
“He was a child. I don’t think there’s anything to forgive.”
“I don’t know about that. The sins of the father and all,” Oakley murmured. “They tend to cling to a man. I know some families will do a lot to keep their name pure, but those histories have a way of coming out.”
A chill went over Dare’s skin. Those words somehow felt like a threat, and he was back to wondering how much the man knew about his real background. “I think we should focus on the future. The past doesn’t make a man money.”
Money was all these people understood. In his father’s world the only thing that mattered was money, but no one could convince his father that reputation wasn’t every bit as important, that they were no longer living in the Victorian age, that one small variance shouldn’t cost them everything.
“Anyway, I saw you sitting over here and thought I would let you know you’re welcome to come out and pitch to the man. I’ve only met him once, and he’s an odd duck, if you know what I mean.” Oakley sighed and slapped his hands on the arms of the chair before standing. “I’ve got to go and deliver some opening speech or something. Probably shouldn’t have asked me since I’m just going to offer to shout a round of drinks and get this party going. I’ll send you some information on the projects I’m interested in. Run them by the old man and see what he says, and we’ll talk next weekend. Feel free to bring a date if you like. Hell, bring a friend, too. I’ve got lots of room. It’s going to be a ripper.”
He wasn’t sure that was a good thing, but damn he liked the idea of bringing someone with him. The party would take place over the course of a weekend. That would mean at least two uninterrupted nights with Tasha.
If she called.
“Maybe you should invite that stunner there.” Oakley gestured to a place behind him. “She seems to be watching you, mate.”
He turned and nearly stopped breathing. Tasha was standing there wearing a yellow sundress and looking so out of place. Everyone in the lobby was dressed in dark colors, professional business suits that somehow seemed to go with the lanyards most of them had around their necks despite the fact that this part of the hotel was outside of the conference spaces. It was as though the serious medical world had taken over the whole hotel with the exception of one shaft of brilliant light standing twenty feet away from him.
“She’s a looker. You know her?” Oakley asked.
He was going to play this cool. He was going to offer her his deal, and they would be on a proper footing. She’d been the one who’d left him, not the other way around, and falling at her feet the minute she walked back in wouldn’t do. He needed to be in the power position when it came to this woman.
“Because maybe I was wrong and she’s looking at me,” Oakley added. “Now that I think about it, she couldn’t actually see your face.”
That was not fucking happening. He wasn’t about to let the billionaire hit on her. Oakley wasn’t a bad-looking man, and that money made up for a lot. “She’s here for me.”
She hadn’t called. She hadn’t waited to see if he would call. He’d talked to her cousin a mere hour before and here she was. She’d put on a pretty dress and done her hair and makeup. This wasn’t a woman who was playing games.
“We can’t know that until we talk to her, mate.” Oakley chuckled. “I think I’ll invite her to join us and let her take her pick. We should get some champagne.”
He could fix this right now. “I’ll see you next weekend. She’ll be coming with me. You can talk to her then.”
It wouldn’t matter then because Tasha would be his. He would make sure of it. All of the reasons he should leave her alone flew right out of his head. They had a few weeks, and he would take them.
His long legs ate the distance between them, and all thoughts of acting like a lofty prick flew out of his head. So did common sense and reason. Instinct led him now.
“Dare, I’m sorry…” she began.
He moved into her space, taking that pretty face of hers between his palms and lowering his lips to hers. Her hands immediately went to his waist, face tilting back so she could give him access.
