“All right, then. Put on some clothes. I’ll make you some food, and we can talk.”
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
I can’t resist another visual skim of her curves before I force myself to look away. “If you keep wearing that silky, see-through thing and think I’ll be able to have a productive conversation, you’re insane. You look so gorgeous, and it’s taking everything I have not to pluck you up and carry you off to the bedroom.”
“Oh.” She looks surprised. “I’ll, um…be right back.”
I nod, then lift Oliver, along with his iPad, carrying both into the kitchen, then set them on the tile. As I open the nearly barren refrigerator and absently check the expiration date on a container of strawberry Greek yogurt, I wonder what the fuck I can say to win Amanda’s trust.
As I scramble another egg and toast one of the last pieces of bread, she returns to the kitchen, dressed in a springy turquoise sundress with spaghetti straps, a fitted waist, and a flirty hem that ends inches above her knees.
The dress does nothing to cool my libido.
“Is that for me?” She nods toward the stove.
“Yeah.” Her toast pops up and her egg is finished, so I plate them, along with the yogurt. Then I set them in front of a nearby barstool before doing the same with utensils and a napkin. “Eat.”
“I appreciate this. I’m starved,” she admits as she sits.
“More coffee?”
She shakes her head. “Find any bottles of water?”
“A couple.” I pluck one from the fridge and hand it her way.
“Thanks.”
While she eats, we make small talk about the grocery order we need to place and the fact that Oliver will probably need another nap soon. We discuss the weather, then finally watch Oliver watching his cartoon in a silence so packed with awareness I swear the air is buzzing.
Finally, she’s finished and stands. Together, we clean the kitchen, not exchanging a word.
I turn off the sink and say the only thing I think might convince her that I deserve her trust. “While you were sleeping, your father called and offered me a hundred thousand dollars to divulge our location.”
“What?” She gapes.
“Oh, it gets better. There was an extra twenty-five thousand in it for me if I persuaded you to see Bruce Barrett and convinced you to marry him by Thursday.”
Amanda shakes her head. “I’d be furious if it would do any good. He means well…”
“Maybe. But he doesn’t understand you.”
“What did you tell him?”
I could lie. Something pretty and not quite honest would prevent her from putting another brick in the wall between us. But if I want to win her trust, I can’t. “That I’d call him back tomorrow and let him know.”
“You didn’t tell him to go to hell?” She laughs cynically and tosses her thick braid over her shoulder again. “I shouldn’t even be surprised. You’re not who I thought, and we don’t have anything else to say.”
When she tries to leave the kitchen, I block her path. “Really? I told you about his call, rather than disclosing our location and talking up this guy I’ve never met. That should tell you where my loyalties lie, baby.”
“How do I know you’re not confessing all this simply as leverage? If I agree to sleep with you, you won’t tell my dad where to find me, but if I don’t you’ll be a hundred thousand dollars richer. It’s a win-win for you.”
“That’s cynical. Barclay must have been a real”—I notice Oliver is suddenly watching us with big eyes—“jerk. I would never do that. I could have just seduced you.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Wanna bet?”
She says nothing, just watches me with wary eyes.
“If I’d wanted to, I could have spent tonight inside you. Then tomorrow morning, I could have simply texted your dad our location, never mentioned his demand, then acted surprised when Bruce showed up to sweep you off your feet. After he took you away, I could have laughed all the way to the bank as I cashed my check. But I didn’t. I’m being up front because I want your trust. Nothing between us will work unless you believe I’ll take care of you. And unlike your dad, I’ll do my best to respect your wishes, thoughts, and decisions.”
Her expression softens. “Point taken. If you’re so wonderful, why did you and…what’s your wife’s name?”
“Ex. All I have to do is sign the papers and pop them in the mail. Ellie is every bit as impatient to be done with our marriage as I am.”
Amanda lifts a cynical brow. “How do I know that’s true? You have no proof to show me, and Barclay told me some great stories. He was going to divorce Linda any day. She was being difficult, but he had great attorneys. The relationship falling apart was all her fault, of course. She only married him for money. She never loved him. And he never expected to find love with me, but he was going to move mountains so we could spend the rest of our lives together.” She scoffs. “All lies.”
That doesn’t surprise me. “I’ll never lie to you.”
“Then why did you and Ellie split up?”
How the fuck do I explain this? “It’s complicated.”
“You cheated?”
“No.”
“She cheated?”
“No. I could give you the canned answer that we grew apart. That’s what I told my dad. But it’s not one hundred percent accurate. The truth is, we both changed. And as I got older, I felt more compelled to help and shelter her from the worst of reality.”
“She didn’t like it?” Amanda sounds surprised by that.
“She hated it. Ellie’s perspective has changed since we met. Now she sees my guidance as a sign that I think she’s incapable of handling her own life. She also believes I wanted to take control because she’s female. She’s not completely wrong, but she’s sure I did that because I thought she
