Page 38 of Ruthless Financier
We were high in the sky now. She finished her own coffee and seemed awake and aware as she popped a grape in her mouth. Once she finished her snack, she patted my knee like I was a child and said, “Taking advantage of corporate weakness might very well be gambling.”
This wasn’t a hands-off partnership, even if she made me wish for more with her. I caressed her skin and saw her hairs stand up for me in welcome. I kept my voice low so only she heard as I said, “We’ll in in Palm Beach soon. Tonight, in the mansion, you promised to be mine.”
She licked her lips and said, “I’ll be ready.”
Damn I wished we were alone. The buzz in my vein went straight to my cock, but I waited till I calmed down and then asked, “Indigo?”
She batted those pretty eyes at me and said, “Yes?”
I pressed my forehead to hers as I said, “I like us, together.”
“Me too.”
Good. We were almost perfect together and she fit in my life. Nothing could go wrong.
I curled my hands around her shoulders and kissed her as her lips made the rest of the world dissipate into nothingness.
Chapter 11
Indigo
Jacob had arranged to have clothes sent to the plane once we landed and insisted I wear a bright yellow skirt with flowers that went mid-thigh and a matching white shirt with more flowers.
I’d have never chosen it, but I quickly changed as memories of being in a golf club surfaced.
My black clothes hadn’t fit in there, even in Pittsburgh.
As we approached the club, he kissed my cheek and headed onto the green.
Now I needed to schmooze and figure out the situation in golf course club house. I was here to do a job, not because I was half in love with Jacob.
And I’d never admit that out loud, ever.
We’d never actually work. His words on the plane, the way he held me, was just wishful thinking that more might exist between us than the reality.
Jacob had said the older women were the brick wall, the least likely to give information, but I headed to a table near a group of them and ordered myself an iced tea and a salad.
The huge glass window overlooking the golf course was bright.
Before my drink even arrived two older, gray-haired women turned in their seats next to me and checked me out. I nodded and said, “Nice to be here.”
The one with her hair up in a bun asked, “You’re Mrs. Donovan?”
“Yes. I’m Indigo Steel-Donovan.”
The other gray-haired woman, her short hair casual but a bit windblown, crossed her arms and said, “Oh, a hyphenator. So how did you and Jacob Donovan meet?”
The waiter brought my order as I said, “Vegas.”
The bun lady, dressed in violet, tapped her friend’s arm and said, “Even more interesting.”
Lies never flew out of my mouth easily, not unless I could make what I said true the same day.
Besides, these women knew him. My stomach had butterflies. Jacob wanted a party invitation and here was my chance to help, so I folded my hands on my lap and said, “We communicated via email before that.”
Again, a statement that was kind of true, except it was all business then. My tongue hadn’t wanted to say “work,” but I probably should have. I was twisting things and my skin jingled.
The lady with her hair down was wearing blue that matched her eyes. And her eyes widened as she asked, “Jacob Donovan was online dating?”
