“Doesn’t matter. Kids that age aren’t good drivers. We should have as much control as possible about when and where he drives. The best way to do that is for him to have to ask permission to take a car.”
He gaped at her. “I have ten cars. He could easily take one without my permission.”
“Then you’re going to be busy keeping track of them. Because, to me, the car is a safety issue. And a deal breaker.”
He scowled, remembering his own driving at sixteen, and realized she was right. “Okay, but then one of my deal breakers is pink.”
“Pink?”
“No matter that you call it rose or mauve or some other flaky name, I don’t ever want him dressed in pink.”
She blinked, then frowned, then burst out laughing. “That’s your idea of a deal breaker?”
He turned his attention to his soup. “Give me time. I’m sure I’ll think of more.”
“So will I. But that’s kind of the point. We should balance. You know I’m right about the car, so you didn’t argue once you understood. I get it about pink.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a pet peeve and I respect that. But most things won’t be so black and white. We’re going to have to learn to discuss issues as they come up and respect each other’s viewpoints.”
He put down his spoon and motioned with his hand between them. “So this kind of works?”
“The fact that we’re both objective parties?”
He nodded.
She smiled. “Give us a few years. We won’t be quite so objective. The first time he looks at us with real love, we’ll both melt.” She caught his gaze. “That’ll probably happen within the next day or so, so get ready. You and I are about to become mom and dad to that little boy.”
The truth of that swooped down on him, reminding him of the things he’d thought the day before. He sniffed a laugh. “I already figured that out.”
“Well, good. That makes you ahead of the game.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve been through this before. I know exactly what I’m in for in the next year and a half. I’ve even thought ahead to the next twenty-five years. Kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, high school…, university … marriage.”
Of course she’d thought ahead to the next twenty-some years. She was a planner. She’d probably thought of every special event in her daughter’s life, previewed it, then suffered through the memories of her plans when her daughter was gone. He’d love to ask, not because he wanted to know her dreams for her daughter, but just because he suspected she needed to talk about some of this. But they weren’t really friends. They were two people bound by someone else’s wishes. He didn’t feel he had the right to be so personal. Yet he also couldn’t think of a way to change the subject or even what to change it to. Nearly everything to do with Gino would remind her of her baby. After that there wasn’t much for them to discuss.
They were quiet for a few seconds then Whitney said, “This soup is wonderful.”
Ah, food. She’d said she loved food. That was as good a topic as any. “Cook worked for my dad for the past few decades. Every time she tried to quit he doubled her salary.”
She laughed. “I can understand why.”
Her laughter pleased him and reminded him of how relaxed she’d been the night before at dinner and while playing pool. She actually seemed happy now. Relaxed.
So once again, he talked about food. “You should see what he paid the pastry chef.”
Her eyes widened. “You have a pastry chef?”
He laughed. “My dad had a pastry chef.”
His laughter scared her. She knew he was being kind, but the sound of his laugh filled her chest with syrupy warmth. It wasn’t love. But closeness. Companionship. Ease. They’d known each other a few days. Yet they were not only comfortable enough to discuss Gino and his future rationally, but she’d also told him about Burn. About Layla. Now he was laughing with her and making her laugh.
And he’d kissed her.
She shoved that to the farthest corner of her brain. He’d promised he wouldn’t kiss her again, so that couldn’t come into play. She had to forget all about that, the way he’d promised he would.
“If we stay here a whole month, I’ll weigh two hundred pounds before I go home.”
“You could stand to gain a pound or two.”
His comment reminded her of the way he’d looked at her the night before when she had been practicing flirting. Yearning seized her, but so did the memory of how much trouble that longing had gotten her into.
“No woman believes she can stand to gain a pound or two.” She set her napkin on the table and rose. “I need to work this afternoon.”
He smiled slightly and rose politely. “Okay.”
Walking back to the office, she congratulated herself. She hadn’t exactly run away, but there was no point in hanging around when they had no future. She’d sealed her fate with him by explaining her past. He’d even told her he wouldn’t kiss her again. Yet she still had crazy feelings around him. Which, now that she thought about it, was preposterous. They didn’t even really know each other. So, whatever she felt, it was based purely on animal attraction.
On the up side, the fact that her feelings were wrong gave her a reason or a way to control them. From here on out, every time the attraction rose up in her, she’d simply remind herself she didn’t know him. So anything she felt was purely physical. Something to be ignored, not pursued.
On Monday morning, they drove into the city together, leaving Gino with Mrs. Tucker. Reviewing files from his briefcase, he didn’t talk. Not even to discuss the job she’d be doing for Andreas Holdings in Gino’s stead. She’d been quiet at breakfast, stilted, and he’d gotten the message. She might have agreed to live in the same house, but she wanted her space. Which was fine. Probably smart. He wanted her to be happy. If being left alone made her happy, then he’d leave her alone.
Eventually, she’d come around on her own terms, soften to the baby and to him. When she did, he’d see it. And he wouldn’t exactly pounce, but he would capitalize on the moment and suggest that they make their living arrangements with Gino, at his house in Montauk, permanent.
When they arrived at Andreas Holdings, he directed her to follow him to his office—formerly his dad’s office. Cherrywood paneling and a wall of bookcases gave the room an old-fashioned, stuffy feel, but there was nothing he could do about that. He hadn’t yet had a chance to redecorate.
He walked past the brown leather sofa and chair, directing her to follow him to his desk. Keeping with the all-business tone they’d established that morning, he handed her a stack of files. “These are contracts I’d like you to review and summarize for me.”
“Okay.”
He pressed the button on his phone and paged his assistant, who was at the door in seconds. “Minnie will show you to your office.”
She left the room on the heels of his assistant, and Darius stared at the door that closed behind them, hoping he was doing the right thing.
He met her at the limo for the ride home and immediately retrieved files to review, so they didn’t have to talk just because they were commuting together. He even let her go up to her apartment on her own to pack the things she would need for the upcoming weeks.
They talked about nannies at dinner. That morning, she had called the service she’d