He kisses my collarbone, making me shiver. “How does your company work, anyway?”
“You’re asking about corporate structure?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
I snuggle against him, relaxing into what I’d define as perfect pillow talk. “Spencer Holdings is the over-arching company, and it has its own board of directors. I’m a non-voting member of that, but the board gives me full authority to make decisions. Especially those pertaining to the company’s charitable endeavors.”
* * *
“So you’re the owner and the boss?”
“More or less. When I first started working with my dad, he insisted on changing the ownership structure of Spencer Development to put fifty-one percent in my name.”
“Sounds like a big vote of confidence.”
“It sounds like a gimmick to claim we’re a women-owned business.” Sighing, I shift the snark from my voice. “It’s the same reason he let me pursue all the charity endeavors when he was still leading the company. It looks good to clients, plus it comes with plenty of tax advantages.”
“But you did it for your own reasons.”
That didn’t sound like a question, but I feel compelled to answer like it is. “Giving back matters a lot to me. I know I’ve been blessed with monetary security. That I have financial resources others don’t have.”
“You think?” Luke chuckles a little. “These sheets alone probably cost more than my bed.”
They’re Giza 45 Egyptian Cotton and retail at two-thousand dollars a set, so…yeah. “Money isn’t just for buying fancy clothes or a big house.” My words get muffled in the warmth of his chest, so I tip my chin up just a little. “It’s about sharing what I have with others who haven’t been as fortunate.”
“That’s sweet.”
“That’s being a good human.” I sound so pretentious. “I’m not patting myself on the back. It honestly feels like the least I can do.”
“Give yourself credit.” He kisses the crown of my head, inhaling like he might be smelling my hair. The thought makes me smile. “You’re a kind, thoughtful, considerate human, despite how hard you work to make people think you’re a coldhearted bitch.”
“Thanks a lot.” I’m not really offended. “I’ll see if I can have that printed on a plaque for my office.”
“Good idea.” He starts to say something, then stops as his hand thumps the mattress beside me. “Aren’t you sweet?”
“Not really.”
He chuckles. “Wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to your cat. What’s her name, anyway?”
“Cat?” I bolt up and find myself peering into a pair of golden-green eyes. “Uh… I don’t have a cat.”
“Meow,” she says, begging to differ. The small ginger feline settles beneath Luke’s stroking palm, coiling her tiger-striped tail around her fuzzy white feet.
“Huh.” The glide of his hand down her back gets her purring. “Tell that to Pumpkin here. She seems pretty at home.”
“Luke, seriously.” Tugging the sheet to cover my breasts, I scramble to study my four-legged houseguest. “Where did she come from?”
“She was on your doorstep when I showed up. Acted like she lived here, so I didn’t think anything of it when she darted past you at the door.”
“Oh my God.” I must have been too distracted by tater tots to notice. “Did I just steal someone’s cat?”
“She doesn’t have a collar. I’m not feeling a microchip around her shoulders, but we can have her checked out.”
I should probably be more alarmed. But the cat bumps her forehead into my arm, and I find myself petting her silky-soft fur. “She’s cute.”
The cat gives a sweet little blurt of agreement.
“Marigold,” Luke muses. “That’s a good name for an orange cat.”
