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Cal caressed Fin’s bare shoulder, satin under his fingers to soothe the violence John Alington put in his heart. “He’s a whale and it’s a tried and true formula.”
“What is Everlasting?”
“Gene splicing. It’s a start up business we’re capital raising for.” It was a paper business with no staff, no premises, no product to sell, and absolutely no cure for disease or aging. It was the one thing he never spoke of tonight, which ensured it was the only thing all those trout and whales wanted to talk about.
“Are you a workaholic, Cal?”
He turned to face Fin. This was goodnight. It had to be goodbye because he couldn’t be detached around her. She’d passed every test he’d set her, but in succeeding, she’d made herself much more than the girl who’d made a surprise pass at him in a bar. The experiment was over. He still had to find a new wife candidate, and Fin couldn’t be it, because she was under his skin and he couldn’t let that happen again on a job, and certainly not the Everlasting job. Especially as it was turning out to be the one that could rebuild his own fortune.
“Sadly, yes. I’m Caleb Sherwood, and I’m a workaholic.”
“What do you do for fun?” A hand to the center of his chest. “Wait, I know. Adventure sports.”
He peeled her hand away and held it. “No, that’s Zeke. I like my body parts to remain attached at all times.”
“Visit exotic places?”
“It’s mostly work related.”
“Collect fast cars and faster women.”
“I seem to have forgotten to do that.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Must remedy it immediately.”
She made her eyes go wide. “I’m collectable. One of a kind. Impeccable condition, but I have a requirement to be serviced regularly.” She blinked up at him, chin lifted, head tilted, angling for a kiss.
He bopped her nose. “You’re funny, Finley Cartwright.”
“You do this”—she waved a hand to take in the venue, the stream of folk leaving, the cars lined up to take them to penthouses and mansions, hotel suites worth thousands a night, and airstrips where private jets waited—“for fun.”
For a long time, the confidence game had been his work and his enjoyment, his adventure sport and his exotic places. He collected scores, made trophies of his conned mark’s silences, and celebrated their willingness to come back for more of the same. That was before Dad’s stroke and retirement, when the list of good works they funded was more manageable and the money they brought in was always enough, before Mom went vigilante and Rory pressed for more, and in admitting to a lie of omission, he’d betrayed his family.
“I need a vacation.”
“What a coincidence,” Fin put a hand to her throat, fingers fanned out across her collarbone. “I vacation.”
He made a shocked sound. “What a coincidence.”
She shifted on her feet, and he remembered she’d said they were killing her. “In fact, now that we’ve got the money, I need to visit our project partner agencies in Africa and Asia. You could come with.”
He unkinked the piece of hair that’d twisted around her earring. Seeing anywhere with Fin was his idea of a good time. “I have responsibilities.” He signaled for his car.
“Don’t you ever get to bunk off?”
Twice, lately. In an alley off an Irish pub and in the service corridor of the Met. “Never.”
“You kiss like you’re on a mission to make me forget I’ve been kissed before. What are we going to do about that?”
He would catch her in a web of lies and deceit, a tangle of false promises and glittery hopes. He liked her too much for that. He lowered his head and kissed her forehead. “It’s time to go home.”
He left to tip the parking attendant, and when he turned back, she was standing on the red carpet with her shoes in her hand. “Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world.”
“Marilyn?”
“Yes.” He walked her down the carpet to the car. “That was the most amazing night of my life. I don’t want it to end,” she said as he opened the rear door.
“What do you want?”
“More.”
