Page 39 of Colton's Secret Weapon
The room was closing in on him.
Pulling the door open he said, “Fine. Just had some boat grease to get out from under my fingernails.” True. But a task he’d completed minutes before.
Standing between him and the beyond, she glanced at his hands, while he took in her flat pink leather sandals with laces that climbed up her legs and under the hem of her skirt. When his gaze made it up to her eyes, he found her staring at him.
Without hesitation, she said, “And here I was thinking you were avoiding our prearranged lunchtime conversation.”
About to start believing that her fates had it in for him, Mitchell would have bolted then and there, if she hadn’t been blocking his way.
Instead, confident that what he had to discuss with her would override their earlier agreement, he said, “I’m eager for the upcoming conversation” and followed her to the table.
He couldn’t walk away from her. But he could play her at her own game.
And win.
Chapter 12
Dove wasn’t surprised when Mitchell took immediate control of their table conversation as he filled his bowl with salad, topping it with the ginger teriyaki dressing she’d made.
From a lawyerly point of view, it was the right thing to do. Keep things on the surface. Avoiding any detours into topics that could be considered inappropriate in the workplace.
She listened to what he had to say. Was somewhat surprised by how quickly an implementation of his ideas could make her father’s relatively small boat-rental business into an entity worth a whole lot more money than Brad Fletcher had offered her even when he’d been acting decently. Enough, according to the numbers Mitchell slid in front of her, to pay off all of her mother’s medical bills and still have a substantial sum left over.
More money than her family had probably ever had.
It was the stuff her dreams of a week ago had been made of.
“This is all great, Mitchell,” she said, forcing herself to swallow bites of the food she knew would not only sustain her but strengthen her intuitive abilities as well. “Exactly what I originally came to see you about, and what we’re going to be paying for. As soon as my father is back home, we’ll be ready to hit the ground running.” She took another bite, swallowed and said, “This should be enough to get his head and heart in gear—enough to motivate sobriety.”
She didn’t know if the latter was true. But she had to believe it was. And knew for certain that there was a good possibility.
“As for the rest, being able to find a buyer other than Fletcher, someone we could feel good about selling to, is a fine thought, but not one I’m interested in entertaining. You misunderstood if you thought my goal was to absolve financial obligations. I told you about my mother’s bills so that you would understand how much of a profit we need to make. And to know that my father wasn’t just throwing his current paychecks into the bottle. He pays my mother’s bills first and foremost, every month. It’s like an honor to him, to do that for her.”
And would be for Dove, too, if she was ever required to take over the deed.
When his eyes lost some of their glow, she quickly added, “That’s not to say that I’m not overjoyed by the work you’ve managed to do this morning. I cannot wait to get started on all of this. Just as soon as we find my dad.”
Because, hello, that was the only thing on her mind at the moment.
Except thoughts of Mitchell. And possibly having sex with him. Every time she’d started to sink into an abyss of negativity that morning, thoughts of Mitchell and their upcoming conversation had pulled her right back out and into the moment—and task—at hand.
Staying positive long enough for Kansas and the SAR team to work their magic and find her dad.
It would happen in fate’s time. Not her own.
The only say she had, the only control, the only choices she had in the meantime pertained to how she managed herself while she waited.
Did she stay strong? Vital? Present and able to hear the silent promptings within her?
Or did she fall into a hell from which she might never emerge?
Fantastical as it might sound to some, in Dove’s mind, the answer lay in having the real conversation that lunch was about. She had no idea what the outcome would be.
Whether or not she’d ever have sex with Mitchell Colton.
The conversation wasn’t about whether or not they were actually ever going to do it. Or even wanted to do so.
“So talk to me about your views on sexual activity,” she said when he seemed to have no ready response to her replies regarding his business conversation.
