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“That was…”
“Your idea.”
“Then.”
“Now.”
“No thanks.”
“Didn’t you say you’d take responsibility to the end?”
“I don’t remember it quite like that.”
“Tonight.” The tilt of his lips inches up a bit. This is a familiar smile. The mischievous one.
He really is used to getting his way. An argument is fun for him.
“Why would I say yes? I’m not ready to raise a child.”
“See? All talk and no action.” His eyes twinkle. He knows he’s backing me into a corner and he likes it too much. “I’m giving you an opportunity to train the next generation. Really make a difference.”
He’s got a point.
I purse my lips thoughtfully. “Train up a child in the way they should go…”
“And when they’re old, they won’t throw money at people to solve their issues.”
A smile blooms even though I didn’t give it permission to. “I need another reason.”
“How about… because you want to rehabilitate this sad, rich playboy?”
“Rehabilitate.” I correct him.
He mimics the sign. Does it a few times as if he’s storing it away in his memory.
I look him up and down and pretend I don’t like everything I’m seeing. “Might be more effort than it’s worth.”
He leans forward and his cologne fills my air. Addictive. Tantalizing.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he signs.
My heart beats way too fast and I inch back so I’m almost disappearing into my chair.
“I’ll think about it. For Talia,” I concede.
“I’ll send a car. Do you like pizza?”
I give him a stink eye.
He laughs and stirs his coffee.
My watch buzzes, preventing me from bringing him down a peg or two. Not that his peg can be moved. I bet nothing can make this man second-guess himself.
I check the notification on my phone and see that there were several missed calls from my agency.
That’s weird. My agency knows that I can’t receive calls. They’ve always communicated with me via emails and text messages. An intern must have taken over for their regular secretary.
I pocket my phone and get up, glad for an excuse to make an exit. “I should go.”
