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“It was the first thing I bought after I made my money.”
She craned her neck to look up at him. “It’s driving me nuts. What did you do to earn it?”
“What do you think I did?”
Presley ran her nails lightly over the ink of his forearm and sipped contemplatively. “Sold a book?”
“That’s a new answer.”
She shrugged. “You seem like a smart guy. Well-educated.”
Between tech magazines that had touted him as one of the new geniuses of the app markets, to the gossip columns that seemed to know way too much about him, it was refreshing not to have the preconceptions to deal with.
“I’m a programmer.”
“Oh. Like for a game or something?”
“I’ve written games, but I’m more famous for apps. Sold one that most of the restaurants in the United States use.”
Her blue eyes widened as she turned in his arms, her shoulders resting against the window. “You hear about people making crazy money on apps. I didn’t think that was real.”
Vance took a healthy sip of his wine. “It sold really well, but then a big company bought it. I was young. And man, it was a stupid amount of money.”
“Who would blame you?”
He shrugged. “I’ve written a few things since, but I’m more interested in helping small businesses with a startup plan these days.” Well, if he ever found one that would interest him again.
“I keep getting on my dad about moving into the world of technology. We’re a small jewelry distributor and the bigger online types are definitely harder to compete with.”
“How small are we talking?”
Her eyebrow winged up. “Do you really care?”
Surprisingly, he did. “I’m a problem solver. It’s how I get my kicks.”
She took a healthy sip of her wine and walked the length of the window, the tips of her fingers tracing the frame of the narrow panes. “We have two main branches. One here. It was much cheaper than trying to get space in New York City and close enough that my dad can take the train down for buyingtrips. We distribute to jewelry stores all over, then we have a storefront in St. Maarten.”
“How does that work?”
“We make a few rare, one-of-a-kind pieces, but mostly our bread and butter is the middle market stuff. I started out as a designer.” She turned back around to him, her face unreadable. “Now I make trips out to St. Maarten two to three times a quarter.”
“You go there to deliver goods?”
“Mostly to keep things running smoothly. High turnover with staff. The islands are beautiful in theory, but not the easiest place to actually work and live on.”
“And you don’t have a manager?”
“One has been with us since the beginning, but it’s hard to keep the rest of the staff.”
He smiled. “Ah, the fun of owning your own business.”
“Right.” Her lashes lowered so he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She took a healthy swallow and her cheeks were flushed from the speed of her drinking.
He took her glass. “Not getting drunk on me, are you?”
She shook her head and tugged at the tab of his pants. “Just fuzzy enough to let you take me to bed again.”
He groaned when she slipped her hand in and stroked up his shaft. “You already said you’d stay.”
