Chapter 22

I give him a cool look and note he seems a little less relaxed; maybe talking about his father makes him uptight. I can relate to that, not that I would call a sperm donor a father, the absent sperm donor father of my childhood.

“You’re not curious?” He glances at me quizzically, green eyes once again boring into the side of my face and making me uncomfortable.

“Curious about what?”

“Why I don’t get along with him? Most women pry … they want the juicy details.” A hint of a smile is in his voice. At the gross generalization of my sex, I curb the urge to eye roll at him.

“No. It’s not my business,” I answer tightly. I’m not most women, and I wish he would shut up. It’s a relief when we pull up in front of my building and I glimpse my chance of escape for a few minutes.

“This is me,” I say, pointing up at the block of attractive brown apartments rising above us. He regards me for a second then gestures I should go; I almost exhale with thanks.

“I’ll wait here. Go get changed. Something feminine and soft. Something you wouldn’t normally wear.” He gives me an odd look, hiding his amusement, and I have the sudden urge to throat-punch him.

Something feminine? Really? I’m pretty sure any clothes made predominantly for women are classed as feminine!

Once in my apartment, I go straight to Sarah’s room. She’s still sound asleep in bed, so I quietly pull two dresses from the back of her closet with a grimace. This doesn’t sit well with me, but I pick the floral floaty number my mother would approve of. It’s not as short as the other one, but I know Sarah has shoes that match the floaty dress. I go to my room so as not to disturb her and change quickly, despairing at my reflection with a curse, and in less than ten minutes return to the SUV looking like some floaty hippy girl in love.

“Better,” he says, his eyes appraising me quickly as I slide in. I ignore it. Dressed like this I feel exposed; I need my armor. I need my tailoring and my hair up, to keep the PA persona with me. Dressed like this I’m like teen Emma and it scares me, takes away my defenses. I don’t like to be unprepared.

The car moves off again and I sit back trying to relax. It’s hard to do when every one of my nerve endings is on high alert. My legs are exposed a lot in this floaty dress, and I pull them in tightly against the seat, tugging the hem toward my knees sharply.

“Why all the secrecy?” I ask in attempt to interrupt the way he’s watching me. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was checking out my legs. His gaze has certainly covertly swept the length of me twice since I returned.

“His father, much like mine, owns a majority share of his business. Family money. If either of our fathers gets wind of what we’re meeting about, then they would oppose this before I can get things in place. Once I maneuver this a certain way, they will be unable to refuse.” He sits back, turning to stare ahead instead of at me, thankfully. Finally, I’m no longer pinned down by those green eyes.

“So, you’re going behind your father’s back?” I blanche, blinking at him as though I have no real sense of this.

“For now. He would refuse to even consider it,” he shrugs, pushing at something with the toe of his boot on the door, an odd mannerism for who he is.

“Why?”