The moment they stepped off the elevator onto the fortieth floor Bella could tell immediately that this was where all the executive offices were located. The furniture was plush and the carpeting thick and luxurious-looking. She was quickly drawn to huge paintings of couples adorning the walls in the center of the lobby. Intrigued, she moved toward them.
“These are my parents,” Jason said, coming to stand by her side. “And the couple in the picture over there is my aunt and uncle. My father and Uncle Thomas were close, barely fourteen months apart in age. And my mother and Aunt Susan got along beautifully and were just as close as sisters.”
“And they died together,” she whispered softly. It was a statement not a question since he had already told her what had happened when they’d all died in a plane crash. Bella studied the portrait of his parents in detail. Jason favored his father a lot but he definitely had his mother’s mouth.
“She was beautiful,” she said. “So was your aunt Susan. I take it Ramsey and Chloe’s daughter was named after her?”
Jason nodded. “Yes, and she’s going to grow up to be a beauty just like her grandmother.”
She glanced over at him. “And what was your mother’s name?”
“Clarisse. And my father was Adam.” Jason then looked down at his watch. “Come on. Our lunch should have arrived by now.”
He surprised her when he took her arm and led her toward a bank of offices and stopped at one in particular with his name on it. She felt her heart racing. Although he hadn’t called it as such, she considered this lunch a date.
That thought was reinforced when he opened the door to his office and she saw the table set for lunch. The room was spacious and had a downtown view of Denver. The table, completely set with everything, including a bottle of wine, had been placed by the window so they could enjoy the view while they ate.
“Jason, the table and the view are beautiful. Thanks for inviting me to lunch.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, pulling a chair out for her. “There’s a huge restaurant downstairs for the employees but I thought we’d eat in here for privacy.”
“That’s considerate of you.”
And done for purely selfish reasons, Jason thought as he took the chair across from her. He liked having her all to himself. Although he wasn’t a tea drinker, he had become one and looked forward to visiting her each week to sit down and converse while drinking tea. He enjoyed her company. He glanced over at her and their gazes connected. Their response to each other always amazed him because it seemed so natural and out of control. He couldn’t stop the heat flowing all through his body at that precise moment even if he wanted to.
He doubted she knew she had a dazed look in the depths of her dark eyes or that today everything about her looked soft, feminine but not overly so. Just to the right degree to make a man appreciate being a man.
She slowly broke eye contact with him to lift the lid off the platter and when she glanced back up she was smiling brightly. “Spaghetti.”
He couldn’t help but return her smile. “Yes. I recall you saying the other day how much you enjoyed Italian food.” In fact they had talked about a number of things in the hour he had been there.
“I do love Italian food,” she said excitedly, taking ahold of her fork.
He poured wine into their glasses and glanced over and caught her slurping up a single strand of spaghetti through a pair of luscious lips. His gut clenched and when she licked her lips he couldn’t help but envy the noodle.
When she caught him staring she blushed, embarrassed at being caught doing something so inelegant. “Sorry. I know that showed bad manners but I couldn’t resist.” She smiled. “It was the one thing I always wanted to do around my parents whenever we ate spaghetti that I couldn’t do.”
He chuckled. “No harm done. In fact, you can slurp the rest of it if you’d like. It’s just you and me.”
She grinned. “Thanks, but I better not.” He then watched as she took her fork in her hand, preparing to eat the rest of her spaghetti in the classical and cultured way.
“I take it your parents were strong disciplinarians,” he said, taking a sip of his wine.
Her smile slowly faded. “They still are, or at least they try to be. Even now they will stop at nothing to get me back to Savannah so they can keep an eye on me. I got a call from my attorney this morning warning me they’ve possibly found a loophole in the trust fund my grandparents established for me before they died.”
He lifted a brow. “What kind of a loophole?”
“One that says I’m supposed to be married after the first year. If that’s true I have less than three months,” she said in disgust. “I’m sure they’re counting on me returning to Savannah to marry Hugh.”
He sipped his wine. “Hugh?”
She met his gaze and he could see the troubled look in hers. “Yes, Hugh Pierce. His family comes from Savannah’s old money and my parents have made up their minds that Hugh and I are a perfect match.”
He watched her shoulders rise and fall after releasing several sighs. Evidently the thought of becoming Mrs. Hugh Pierce bothered her. Hell, the thought bothered him, as well.
In a way he should be overjoyed, elated, that there was a possibility she was moving back to Savannah. That meant her ranch and Hercules would probably be up for sale. And when they were, he would be ready to make her an offer he hoped she wouldn’t refuse. He knew he wasn’t the only one wanting the land and no telling how many others wanted Hercules, but he was determined that the prized stallion wouldn’t fall into anyone’s hands but his.
And yet, he wasn’t overjoyed or elated at the thought that she would return to Savannah.
He got the impression her parents were controlling people, or at least they tried to be. He began eating, wondering why her parents wanted to shove this Hugh Pierce down her throat when she evidently wasn’t feeling the guy. Would they coerce her to marry someone just because the man came from “old money”?
He forced the thought to the back of his mind, thinking who she ended up marrying was no concern of his. But making sure his name headed the list as a potential buyer for her ranch and livestock was. He glanced over at her. “When will you know what you’ll have to do?”
She looked up after taking a sip of her wine. “I’m not sure. I have a good attorney, but I have to admit my parents’ attorney is more experienced in such matters. In other words, he’s crafty as sin. I’m sure when my grandparents drew up my trust they thought they were looking out for my future because in their social circles, ideally, a young woman married by her twenty-sixth birthday. For her to attend college was just a formality since she was expected to marry a man who had the means to take care of her.”
“And your parents have no qualms in forcing you to marry?”
“No, not one iota,” she said without pause. “They don’t truly care about my happiness. All they care about is that they would be proving once again they control my life and always will.”
He heard the trembling in her voice and when she looked down as to study her silverware, he knew her composure was being threatened. At that moment, something inside of him wanted to get up, pull her into his arms and tell her things would be all right. But he couldn’t rightly say that. He had no way of knowing they would be for her, given the situation she was in. Actually it was her problem not his. Still another part of him couldn’t help regretting that her misfortune could end up being his golden opportunity.
“I thought I’d finally gotten