Page 3 of Tender Offer
When life presents you with a choice between a fashion internship in Paris or renting a house with your raggedy, unbrushed ex, choose Paris every time.
My ex was far from a scrub, but I refuse to allow anyone or anything to distract me while I’m here. Present company included.
Men like the one next to me, who’s silently calculating my measurements, are nothing new. The gold cuff links, the fitted suit, and a desire for a plaything on his arm—someone seen and not heard—come with the tax bracket.
I’m from the bayou, but I wasn’t born yesterday.
“Have dinner with me.” The fire in his eyes casts an amber glow as it sweeps over my collarbone and up to my lips. “Tonight.”
Arrogant.
“I don’t dine with strangers,” I say, matter-of-fact.
The edge of a smile curls the corner of his mouth. “We should fix that.” He extends a hand that comes with an expensive watch attached. “Preston.”
Preston can’t be more than a few years older than me, but he has an aura of importance and responsibility. There’s a hunger in his stare, a hunger that has to do with more than just food.
I am no one’s conquest, but I can do dinner. My credit card will send a handwritten thank-you letter.
I place my hand in his, reveling in the softness of his touch and the circle his thumb rubs across my skin. Preston is the kind of man to make you sing ’90s love songs in a dark cornerafter he breaks your heart, a heart he promised to cherish. He’s gorgeous, obviously loaded, and maintains the most unnerving eye contact.
My promise to not lose sight of why I’m in Paris takes new form. I look him in the eyes and lie to his face.
“Heather.”
Chapter 2
Preston
Now
I’m rarely on the receiving end of rejection. For one, I don’t take no for an answer in business. I get what I want or find another way for the odds to work in my favor. That’s what makes the woman across from me struggling to let me down gently so damn entertaining. Because when the fuck does this happen?
Tonight, apparently.
I steady my expression to keep from cracking a smile. Justice is fighting for her life the way her hands keep fidgeting over the white tablecloth. Her trepid brown eyes dart everywhere but to me. They finally land on the night sky twinkling over the frosted valley.
This holiday is full of surprises.
Vail, Colorado, is an experience. It’s no Maldives, but it comes with the advantage of anonymity and being a continent awayfrom the life waiting for me back in London. Time is a luxury even I struggle to afford. I don’t give it freely for anyone to waste, but I can’t help seeing her one more time.
Round tables and rattan chairs with patrons enjoying the finest dining in the valley fill the once-empty ballroom. Large crystal chandeliers hover from high ceilings, set low for an ambiance that’s absent from this table.
Choosing a spot near the floor-to-ceiling windows was intentional. I read body language, and Justice shifting in her black dress tells me she’s nervous. Normally I don’t give a shit who withers in my presence, but I’ve developed a soft spot for her in the days since we met. I want to take the edge off the conversation we’re about to have. One that will end with her severing whatever was building between us.
Justice is a breath of fresh air. She’s awkward and a touch anxious but sexy as hell.
Her lighthearted giggles drew me from the stables the first time we met two days ago. She’s here with her best friend for this week’s singles’ retreat at the resort. I’ve steered clear for privacy but filled in for one of the horseback riding instructors. With my schedule, I seldom get to enjoy riding anymore. An opportunity presented itself to shed my suit for flannel and an Appaloosa, so I took it.
The need to fuck had me circling Justice and her infectious grin. But the more time we spent on our horses in the snow, the more I got to know her. Every quirk matches her beauty, woven in rich chestnut. Stunning women aren’t rare for me, but her easygoing personality kept my attention.
To Justice, I’m Preston. A guy who spends time outdoors. I’m in a tailored charcoal suit tonight, and it doesn’t matter. Finding out I was rich didn’t change her perception of me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket in rapid succession. Stephanie knows to forward me items that require my immediateattention. Two weeks is all I have for this holiday, and the persistent hum of pending messages is threatening to cut it short.
“Preston, I need to tell you something,” Justice says, meeting my eyes from under coiled black curls.
Ah, yes. The rejection.
