Her Little White Lie (7 page)

“I always imagined it did.”

“Nobody gets points for good intentions.”

“I suppose not.” The champagne spoke for her again. “Does anyone hold bad intentions against you if you don’t act on them?”

“Speaking of yourself, or of me?”

She shrugged. “Just curious if it works both ways.”

“In my experience, intentions, and sometimes actions, don’t really matter at all. What matters is what people think.”

“Now that is true,” she said, sighing heavily, thinking back to how people had perceived her in her home town. Of how the social worker perceived her and her situation.

He lifted his glass. “To reinvention,” he said.

She lifted her glass in response but opted out of taking a sip. She needed to get her feet back on solid ground, needed to get her words back under control. And she really needed to get her thoughts in regards to Dante back under control.

“Perhaps when we’re through with this you and I will both be totally different people,” she said. “Or at least, in your case, people will think so.”

A smile curved his lips. Not a friendly smile. One that was dangerous. And, though it really shouldn’t have been, sexy. “Perhaps.”

P
AIGE
took her latte off the counter and waved to her favorite barista as she walked out the door of the coffee shop.

She paused and put her sunglasses on, taking a sip of her drink while admiring the afternoon light filtering through the palm trees. It was a perfect day. The light glinted on her new engagement ring and it put a slight dent in her moment of zen.

There was a flash to her left and she turned to look. It was not a little flare of afternoon light. There was a photographer, standing there, holding his camera up, not even trying to be subtle.

“Uh … could you not do that?” she asked.

“Ms. Harper?”

“What?”

“When are you and Dante Romani getting married?”

She clutched her sequined purse to her side and strode down the sidewalk, away from the man with the camera, her heart pounding. She turned back to look and saw that he was still there, snapping off shots casually. Like she was a monkey in a zoo.

Her purse vibrated and she reached inside, casting another glance behind her as she retrieved her phone and answered the call. “Hello?”

“Ms. Harper, this is Rebecca Addler with child services. I wanted to speak to you about your case.”

She quickened her pace, heading back to the office building.
Back to Ana. Back to Dante even. She could hide behind his broad chest. And she wasn’t even ashamed for wanting to hide behind him right now.

“Right. Great to hear from you. What about the case?” she asked, scurrying through the revolving door to the Colson’s corporate building and walking quickly to the elevators.

“We’re going to have to interview your fiancé. He’s going to be involved in the process, of course.”

“Well, of course.”

“And he’ll be adopting Ana, as well.”

Damn
.

“So there will be paperwork for that,” she finished.

Paige had overlooked that bit. She’d overlooked it completely. “Of course,” she said, her throat dry. She took another sip of latte and scalded her mouth. She punched the up button on the wall and waited for an elevator.

She dashed inside as soon as the door opened.

“And we’ll want to do a parent interview with him.”

“Naturally. Dante will be delighted—” like Dante was ever delighted about anything “—to participate.”

“We’ll do a little meet-up this Friday if that works for you.”

“Of course it does!” she said, far too brightly.

The elevator reached her floor, and she stood inside, waffling. Then she hit the button that would take her to Dante’s floor and the door slid closed again.

She tapped her foot while she finalized the details of the appointment with Rebecca. She ended the phone call as quickly as possible and tapped her fingers on the wall, waiting for the elevator to stop. When it did, and the doors opened, she nearly ran out, past Trevor, and to Dante’s office.

She didn’t bother to knock.

“I just got my picture taken. Like … a hundred times by some photographer. And then Rebecca Addler called and said we need to start doing interviews as a couple. Oh, I just realized there will be a home study, and we’ll have to start over and do it at your house because as far as everyone is concerned
that is where we’ll be living. And you’re going to adopt Ana legally. Which is sort of … obvious but I didn’t think of it until now and … and I’m officially panicking a little bit.”

“Don’t,” he said, standing from his position behind the desk, his large, masculine hands planted palms down on the pristine surface. He didn’t even have the decency to look surprised that she’d burst into his office. He just looked … smooth and calm and unaffected as ever.

It was just unfair, because her cage was well and truly rattled.

“Don’t panic?”

“No. There’s no need. When we divorce I’ll sign custody of Ana over to you. You have my word on that.”

“Oh.” She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in a rush. “That does make me feel better.”

“I thought it might.”

“Then there’s the home study.”

“You and Ana should move in with me. Soon.” That he said with a kind of grim determination that let her know exactly what he thought of it.

“I can see you’re completely thrilled at the idea.”

“I value my own space,” he said.

“Well, as you mentioned, it’s a big house. I’m sure we won’t be on top of each other.”

He lifted one dark brow, and horror crept over her as she realized the double meaning of her words. As she pictured just what it might be like to be on top of him.

Or to have him on top of her.

Her entire face heated, prickling awareness spreading over her skin. Her heart was racing and she was … turned on. And it was obvious. She was certain it was.

She was such a dork. A side effect of spending her school years as the funny one. She didn’t know how to be smooth; she knew how to go for a joke. Another side effect of that was that guys didn’t flirt with her.

Well, that might have also been because of the time Michael
Weston had tried to make out with her at a party and had ended up cutting his tongue on her braces. No one had wanted to kiss her after that. Kissing her became a running joke, and very firmly kept her in her place as school screwup.

Well, after that someone had made her
think
he wanted to kiss her, and more than that. It had all been a gag, of course. Thinking about that reduced the horror of the situation a little bit, because nothing, nothing in the history of the world, was quite as bad as meeting a guy under the bleachers after prom to … to … and having the popular kids standing by, waiting for just the right moment, waiting for the top of her prom dress to come down, for her “date” to pull her out from beneath the bleachers onto the field so they could throw eggs at her. And laugh. And take pictures of her humiliation for posterity.

Yes, that put a woman off dating for a while.

As a result, she wasn’t great at handling men. Unless they were more like buddies. And Dante didn’t feel like a buddy. Not even a little.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“As for the parent interview …” He neatly sidestepped the moment.

“What about it?”

“I don’t see how it will be a problem.”

“You may have to grow a personality between now and then.”

“And you may want to tone yours down.”

“Why because a fun-loving, smiley person might not make a good parent? Do I need to be a bit more dour?”

“Are you calling me … dour?” he asked.

“If the scowl fits.”

“You’re going to have to keep yourself from taking shots at me in the presence of the social worker. Actually, you
should probably keep yourself from taking shots at me because I’m your boss.”

She bit her lower lip. “Yeah. Okay, that could be …”

“And don’t bite your lip like that.” He leaned forward and extended his hand, putting his thumb on her chin, just beneath her mouth.

She slowly released her hold on her lip, her heart pounding heavily, butterflies taking flight in her stomach and crashing around, making her insides feel jittery.

She could only stare at him, at his incredibly handsome face, his dark, compelling eyes.

“I’ll try not to,” she said, not sure why she agreed with him. She should be annoyed that he was being so dictatorial, and yet she found she wasn’t. But that could be because he was touching her, and men didn’t make a habit of touching her.

It didn’t mean she didn’t want them to. It just hadn’t really happened for her for many and varied reasons. A huge reason being she was too afraid to let a moment like that happen. Because she was afraid to acknowledge she wanted it, for fear of it all being a joke again.

“Good. You’re also going to have to work on not blushing like a schoolgirl every time I get near you.”

“I don’t blush.” She could feel the heat creeping into her face, calling her bluff.

“You blush more than any woman I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m very pale. It’s hard to hide when you have no pigment to disguise it.”

“I imagine,” he said. “Even so, if we were truly engaged we would be well past the point where I could make you blush with just the casual brush of my hands. Unless…” he said, rounding the desk, coming to stand near her. “Unless you were thinking of all the things my hands have done for you.”

His voice changed, became rougher, more ragged. Something in his expression changed, too. Hardened. Never, ever, ever had a man looked at her like that before. Not even close.

She wanted to say something to defuse the tension. Something funny, or random, something to break the spell. But she couldn’t. A part of her didn’t want to. She wanted to stand there, and have Dante Romani look at her like she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. She wanted to get closer to him, see if he was as hot as he looked. To see if the fire smoldering in his eyes would burn her.

“I … suppose that could be a possibility.” She looked down, trying to catch her breath. But her eyes connected with his hands, and that did not help her regulate her breathing. “Subtext, right? Like when you’re acting? You make sure that even your thoughts match those of your character. And … stuff.”

“Something like that,” he said.

Of course to really have good subtext she would have to know exactly what he could do with his hands, and frankly, some of that information was a little hazy for her. And she was in no position to change it. Not now, not with him. And, given that she was going to be single mother of a small child for quite a few years, maybe not anytime soon.

That had never really been her plan. But she’d been too afraid to put herself out there after the way she’d been treated. Too afraid of rejection.

Dante picked up his phone and dialed a number. “Trevor, I need you to hire some movers. Send them to Paige’s apartment. The address is on file. Personal items only, no furniture, all of the baby supplies. It needs to be done by the end of the day.” He hit the end button on the phone and put it back in the holder on his desk.

“Did you just … evict me?”

“You’ll keep the apartment, for later. I assume that’s the place you’ll go back to.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll need my home. But what’s going to happen with it in the meantime?”

“There’s no reason to do anything with the apartment. I can handle the rent for you for the duration of your stay at my home.”

“I pay the rent. I’m not having trouble with the rent—there’s no reason for you to pay it for me!”

He shrugged. “But I can, so I don’t see why it’s an issue.”

“Because
I
can,” she said.

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“Me? You’re telling me not to be stubborn? That is funny, Dante, real funny.”

“This ruse really ought to be easy. In fact, they may assume we’ve been married for twenty years given the way you argue with me.”

“I argue with you? Hmph.”

“Yes, you do. Just like that.”

“Well, I’m annoyed with you.”

“Then you had better get un-annoyed,
cara
. Remember, this whole thing is of your making. I never would have sought you out.” His words made her flinch internally. “I will take advantage of the situation, yes, but I would not have sought you out. You’re completely unsuitable, obviously, and if I had felt the need for a wife pressing I would have one already.”

Stupidly, a little pang of hurt hit her square in the chest, knocking the wind out of her, making her eyes sting. “I’m … unsuitable? Wh-why?”

She shouldn’t have asked why. Not when she really didn’t want to hear it all.

“Am I suitable to you?” he asked, his tone incredulous.

“No,” she said. “No, you’re rude. And obnoxious. And you don’t know how to laugh.”

He took a step toward her, his dark eyes intent on hers. “And you are disorganized and scattered.”

“I must not be too bad since you keep me on here. Clearly I know how to do my job.”

“As do hundreds of my employees, but that does not mean they would make a good spouse for me.”

She took a step toward him, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. “I’m sure they feel the same way about you.”

He reached out his hand and took a lock of her hair, her
pink hair, between his thumb and forefinger. “I would clearly never become involved with a woman who has pink hair.”

She leaned in, up on her tiptoes, trying to make herself eye level with him. “And I would never become involved with a man who’s more starched than his shirt collar.”

He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her up against his hard body. She squeaked as her breasts came up against the muscular wall of his chest. “You think I’m too serious, is that it?” She nodded mutely, no words coming to her. “That I don’t know how to have fun.” His fingers flexed against her back, sending little pops of sensation from the point of contact all throughout her body.