Page 12 of Ms. Fortune

“Home. Well, Dad’s house.” I’m still not used to staying there, and it doesn’t feel like home, but I don’t know what to call it half the time. I also don’t know what I’m doing long-term yet, and my life in Sacramento is on pause indefinitely while I clean things up here. When I came back here after Dad died, I had no idea my life would change so dramatically. Sometimes I want to send for all my things, and other times I want to run back there and never look back. “Why? What’s up? Want to grab some dinner or something?”

She’s a little amped up, her cheeks flush with color. What on earth has her in such a state?

“You can’t leave. Brandon’s on his way to pick up his cars.” She almost jumps up and down with excitement. Chelsie has been so proud all day with the sales she made, and she should be. The prices she got for the cars were astronomical. I can’t believe Brandon didn’t know he was overpaying. That’s one more stupid point for him, but he’s still in the negative as far as I’m concerned.

“I don’t need to be here for that. I’m sure you can handle it.” I start heading for the exit again, determined not to get caught up in her whirlwind. “The funds came through this morning, and you know how to transfer a title. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But…” She almost sounds timid, as though she doesn’t want to handle it alone. Before I can say anything else encouraging, the door opens, and Brandon walks into the garage, pulling off his sunglasses with another gentleman behind him.

He’s not in a suit this time, but a light gray button-down shirt with rolled sleeves and jeans that hug lean but powerful-looking thighs. His hair isn’t as styled as it was yesterday, but it’s still perfectly disheveled. The day-old stubble on his face makes my fingers instantly itch to touch it and run a finger along his jawline to see if it’s as rough as it looks. My mouth goes dry, and I need to stop before walking right into him. He grins at me with a megawatt smile as though he’s happy to see me, and those god-damned dimples send a tremor through me. Holy shit, this man.

“Normandy, it’s so good to see you. I was hoping you’d still be here.” He holds a hand out to me, and I reluctantly take it briefly, but I pull away before I can melt into a puddle at his feet from his touch. I can’t let myself give in to this physical attraction to him.

“Oh? Why is that?” I can’t imagine what he wants with me. I’ve made myself pretty clear with him. At least, I think I have.

“I have a business proposition for you, actually.” He slides his sunglasses onto the collar of his shirt and shoves his hands deep into his jeans pockets. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was nervous. What the hell could he be anxious about relating to business? He’s Brandon Fucking Carmichael, for Christ’s sake. And what business could he possibly have with me?

I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow at him, intrigued. “I’m listening….”

“Nope. Not here.” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Dinner. I’ll only discuss it with you over dinner.”

Of course, there’s a catch. I would have been shocked if there wasn’t one. I really don’t want anything to do with him right now. I saw the news last night about his ex-girlfriend getting arrested and had to investigate it more today. My curiosity overtook me, and I couldn’t help it. I wanted to see what kind of woman Brandon would date, and Eve Cromwell is about 20,000 leagues above me on the status ladder, at least compared to me and my little solo consulting firm. Sure, she’s a criminal, but she’s gorgeous and filthy rich. She’ll probably buy herself a simple slap on the wrist.

When I don’t respond right away, he takes my silence for consideration.

“Business only. I swear.” I notice then that one of his dimples is higher and deeper than the other, and the imperfection only exaggerates his perfection, as if that makes any sense. My brain is running on a hamster wheel of thoughts; go, don’t go, go, don’t go.

“Fine.” I finally say, trying to shut up my brain more than anything else. Plus, if I go this one time, I can get him to stop asking, and we can both go on with our lives. Also, with what he overpaid for the cars he bought, I do feel like I kind of owe him, though he could easily afford it. The thought pisses off my inner feminist, but I give in. “Business only,” I repeat, making sure he’s clear on the objective.

Chelsie has made her way to us and has a sly smile of her own playing on her lips. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was in on this ambush, but I don’t think she was. She’s probably just happy to see me so annoyed. She always did get a kick out of watching other people’s drama. She holds out a set of keys to Brandon and drops them into his outstretched hand.

“Have a nice dinner.” Her bright eyes twinkle with mirth. I thoroughly dislike my half-sister right now. “Betty is right out in the lot for you. Gassed up and ready to go.”

“Thank you, Chelsie.” Brandon turns to the guy behind him, who I think is part of his security team. “You can handle the paperwork? I’ll see you back at the house later.”

“But, sir…” the gentleman is startled at this announcement, and I think Brandon is going off-script. This isn’t what was planned.

“I’ll be fine, Taylor. It’s okay.” Brandon turns to me next, ignoring the growing concern of his security guard. “Shall we?”

I switch my gaze between the two men, unsure what to do now. I guess Brandon has the right to ditch his security detail if he wants to. And, if he feels safe without them with whatever he has planned, I guess I should too. I nod and move to follow him, and he opens the door for me, his grin broader than before. Those god-damned dimples.

Out in the lot, I start heading to my car to follow him. He gently grabs my arm and stops, forcing me to stop with him.

“Where are you going?” He’s confused, though I don’t know why.

“To get my car to follow you…?”

“Come with Betty and me.” That crooked smile on his face is infectious, but I force myself not to reciprocate. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun? I thought this was a business dinner.” I had a feeling he was going to derail that idea.

“It is.” Those dimples are lethal weapons, and he knows what he’s doing with them. There’s something I think is hope in his eyes, but I don’t understand it. I don’t get anything about this man. “But the way to the business dinner can be fun, can’t it?”

I cross my arms again. I can’t help it. I need to know what his game is.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Taking you to dinner?” He’s playing coy, and it’s so damned cute I have to bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t smile back at him.

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