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“Do you think you might be able to figure something out?” Harvey’s voice pulls me back, and I straighten. “Either you or your father?”
Not Dad. Me. “Yes.”
It seems that Luc and I just started another game. One where he makes up all the rules.
If I want this story, I have to play.
Chapter 18
Autumn
“Ithought you might have called me earlier,” Luc says in an amused voice.
With a playful but nervous smile on my face, I press my phone to my ear and sit on the window bay in my room. “I was thinking about what to say to you.”
“And what did that pretty little head of yours come up with?” He chuckles, and I imagine him shirtless or wearing a T-shirt while standing somewhere like where I am.
“A ton of stuff.”
“Are you alone?” His voice drops like it did when he was whispering in my ear last night.
“Yes.”
“Want me to come over? We can repeat last night then get on to the subject of business.”
A hot blush races over me at the memory of last night, and a wave of arousal clogs my throat. I have to swallow hard to clear my head and breathe.
“You are absolutely crazy, Luc.”
“Maybe, but last night was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
“And you haven’t said no to a repeat.”
I drag in a measured breath. “I haven’t, but we shouldn’t.”
“How about we talk about business first, then we can explore an idea I have to fix this little problem of ours?”
“You have an idea?” I can’t imagine it being anything less risky than last night, but hearing he’s been thinking in this way warms my heart.
“Let’s just say I do. So, talk to me about my manor home you’re so interested in.”
“How on earth do you own the Vanderville Manor?”
“It belonged to my mother’s family. It was willed to me after my grandmother died.”
“And you truly own it.”
“Yes. For the moment. I’m in the process of selling the place.”
I gasp, straightening against the windowpane. “Why would you sell something so beautiful? The place is absolutely stunning.”
“Maybe so, but it’s no end of trouble for me.AndI have a continuous line-up ofjour-nal-istscontacting me to do articles.”
I smile at his emphasis onjournalists, then I think of how badly I want to do this story. It’s hard to explain to anyone. I just feel that this is the kind of thing that will fix me.
“This journalist here really, really wants to do an article on the place. It would mean the world to me if you agreed. I assume I at least have a chance if we’re talking about it.”
