She smoothed the placemat she’d mussed. “What I’d love for my mother is a modest, hardworking man who’s educated himself and made something of his life.”
He cocked his head. “But not a billionaire?”
She sighed. “Not a billionaire.”
“You think that someone from a relatively similar background—hardworking, with a good education—would fit better into your mother’s world?” He understood they weren’t talking only about Flo, but about Michaela too. But it was the other way around. Not that this fictional man would fit better into her world, but that she would fit better into his. It came down to this: She didn’t think she was good enough for a billionaire.
But did she think Flo wasn’t good enough for Walter Braedon? He couldn’t imagine Michaela would believe that. Rather than hitting the thought straight on the head, he asked again, “Because Walter’s a hotel magnate, you’re afraid your mother will get hurt in the end?”
She shrugged and pulled her plate back in front of her, taking another bite of enchilada and chewing it thoughtfully. “It’s just that billionaires are all about galas and big events and flying off to New York to go to a show or to Paris for the weekend. They want to be seen, to be noticed, to be on the front pages. But Mom and I are simple people. Our Saturday night galas take place in front of the TV with popcorn and a sappy movie. We’re homebodies. I don’t think Mom would like the lifestyle of the rich and famous.”
He chuckled at the reference to the old TV show. “You might find that Walter likes being a homebody too.”
She laughed, short and sharp. “Seriously? He’s taking her to dinner and a show and a night in the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel that probably costs five thousand dollars a night. Except that he owns it.”
He thought for a long moment before he replied. She didn’t want extravagant displays. Maybe she didn’t think she even deserved them. But maybe she needed to hear something simpler. “A lot of couples go to dinner and a show, especially on a first date. He didn’t fly her to New York, right?”
“Well, no, but?—”
He held up a finger to stop her. Thank God he hadn’t flown her down to LA or rented the dining car on a train to impress her. “Maybe your mom wants to have an enjoyable time with a nice man. Doesn’t she deserve that?”
“Of course she does.” She swooped up her wineglass for another sip.
“Then wouldn’t it be good to let her have that? And to trust that she’ll take care of herself?”
She stirred her fork in the enchilada sauce on her plate. “I trust my mother,” she said softly. “But I don’t want her to kiss a frog.”
He leaned over to tip up her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him. “Maybe for Flo, he’ll turn into a prince.”
After a long moment, a lovely smile grew on her beautiful face. “Maybe he will.” The smile turned into a sparkle in her eyes. “And maybe she’ll have a lot of fun and be very happy, and life will be good to her.”
“She deserves that, doesn’t she? Even if it’s with a billionaire?”
After another extended moment, she slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “She deserves it no matter what.”
And so did Michaela.
He just needed to prove it to her.
As they washed the dishes, Troy asked, “What’s for dessert?”
She had to laugh. “What do you think?” A plate of bite-size cheesecakes sat in the fridge.
He knew all her favorite things. But she’d still keep him guessing.
Troy was right about her mother. Flo deserved happiness. She deserved a good life and a good man. But even more, she deserved Michaela’s trust that she could make her own choices. And maybe, as crazy as it sounded, what her mom needed most was a fun fling with a handsome silver fox. And if that was all it turned out to be, more power to her.
She shooed Troy out of the kitchen. “I’ll bring dessert into the living room.”
“Can’t I help?”
She pushed him lightly with both hands. “I put a couple of decks of cards on the coffee table. Your job is to shuffle them together.”
He tucked his chin, giving her a narrow-eyed look. “Two decks of cards? What are we playing?”
Hand on the fridge, waiting for him to go, she said, “Spite and Malice. It’s like Skip-Bo, if you’ve ever played that game—” He nodded that he had. “—but you use regular cards, one deck for each person playing. The jokers act like the Skip-Bo cards.” She grinned. “But it’s a bit harder because there’s only four jokers in the two packs.”
“Fascinating.”
