“That’s easy enough. I did.”
“We dated in our twenties, then you left me for some idiot jock who eventually knocked you up and made you move to California.”
My brow dips—that’s perhaps closer to my truth than he realizes.
“But I couldn’t live without you, so many years later, I heard you’d split from your husband so I flew across the country and turned up at the bar you worked at, asking for a second chance.”
I watch him talk, a smile pulling on his lips as he explains our fake past. Finding him less annoying only makes me more annoyed.
“You told me to go to hell. I didn’t. I kept turning up at the bar instead, until you eventually gave in. That was six years ago. We married after just two months of being back together, and the rest is history.”
My chest flutters without permission. “Um… okay.”
He darts his gaze to me, brief and business-like. “Think you can remember it?”
Trying to get a handle on my delinquent breaths, I gulp. “Yeah. Yes. I think I can manage that.”
I turn my gaze back to the road, but occasionally glance sideways to study him. Thick, dark hair with flecks of salt and pepper running through, an air of controlled calm that comes with maturity, a faint scar on his inked knuckle. He looks like a walking red flag and aGQmodel, all at the same time.
Keeping to the story doesn’t faze me one bit. Keeping my eyes from seeking him out every two minutes will be the realchallenge. He must have this effect on every female, which begs the question, why was I his only option?
I force my thoughts back to the reason I’m sitting here.
“So, what kind of deal are you hoping to close at this retreat?”
He turns to me, his eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You told me you have to close a deal. What kind of deal?”
His face softens slightly. “Right. I did. It’s not very exciting. The aim is to structure a syndicate for investment in the Middle East.”
“It’s more exciting than anything I’ve got going on. What kind of investment?”
He glances at me then back to the road. “Distribution initially. Then possible M&A activity, which is what I specialize in.”
“Okay,” I frown. “Maybe not so exciting.”
He bites back a smile, which drops pretty quickly. “Speaking of the deal… We’re not to talk about it outside of the formal briefings and negotiations—that’s one of the rules.”
“Right. So, not during social time? Not when I’m having to make meaningless small talk with other wives?”
“That’s correct.”
“So, it’s going to be like an enormous elephant in the room? That will be lovely.”
He takes his eyes off the road toglareat me. “Two hundred thousand dollars, Erin.”
“Fine! Will you please focus on driving?”
He pauses for a few seconds, his burning eyes sending flares of heat down my neck, then finally turns back to the road.
“Who else is going to be there?”
If I have some idea, I can be at least a little mentally prepared.
“I don’t know yet. It’s a closed invitation. I guess we’ll find out when we go to this evening’s dinner.”
“Is there an itinerary for the week?”
