“I don’t want your money. I have my own. I just have to get my hands on it so I can build the shelter my way, without any benefactors, investors or loans.”
She flinched a little at her tone. What about this man brought out her claws?
“Well, darlin’. Sounds like I’m unnecessary, then. If you decide to go in the other direction with your proposition, feel free to look me up.” Lucas edged away, right into the sights of a svelte socialite in a glittery, painted-on dress, who’d clearly been waiting for the most eligible male in the place to reject her competition.
“I’m not finished.” Cia crossed her arms and followed him, shooting a well-placed glare at Ms. Socialite. She wisely retreated to the bar. “The money is tied up in my trust fund. In order to untie it, I have to turn thirty-five, which is nearly a decade away. Or get married. If my husband files for divorce, as long as the marriage lasts at least six months, the money’s mine. You’re necessary since I’d like you to be that husband.”
Lucas chuckled darkly and, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “Why is every woman obsessed with money and marriage? I’m actually disappointed you’re exactly like everyone else.”
“I’m nothing like everyone else.” Other women tried to keep husbands. She wanted to get rid of one as soon as possible, guaranteeing she controlled the situation, not the other way around. Getting rid of things before they sank barbs into her heart was the only way to fly. “The difference here is you need me as much as I need you. The question is can you admit it?”
He rolled his eyes, turning them a hundred different shades of blue. “That’s a new angle. I’m dying to hear this one.”
“Sold any big-ticket properties lately, Wheeler?”
Instantly, he stiffened underneath his custom-made suit, stretching it across his shoulders, and she hated that she noticed. He was well built. So what? She had absolute control of her hormones, unlike his usual female companions. His full package wasn’t going to work on her.
“What’s real estate got to do with your trust fund?”
She shrugged. “You’re in a bit of a fix. You need to shore up your reputation. I need a divorce. We can help each other, and I’ll make it well worth your while.”
No other single male in the entire state fit her qualifications, and, honestly, she didn’t have the nerve to approach another stranger. She scared off men pretty quickly, which saved her a lot of heartache, but left her with zero experience in working her feminine wiles. That meant she had to offer something her future husband couldn’t refuse.
“Hold up, sweetheart.” Lucas signaled a waiter, snagged two drinks from the gilded tray and jerked his head. “You’ve got my attention. For about another minute. Let’s take this outside. I have a sudden desire for fresh air. And double-plated armor for that shotgun you just stuck between my ribs.”
Lucas could almost feel the bite of that shotgun as he turned and deftly sidestepped through the crowd.
His brother, Matthew, worked a couple of local businessmen, no doubt on the lookout for a possible new client, and glanced up as Lucas passed. The smarmy grin on Matthew’s face said volumes about Lucas’s direction and the woman with him.
Lucas grinned back. Had to keep up appearances, after all. A hard and fast quickie on the shadowed balcony did smack of his usual style, but it was the furthest thing from his mind.
The gorgeous—and nutty—crusader with the intriguing curtain of dark hair followed him to the terrace at the back of the club. By the time he’d set down the pair of drinks, she’d already sailed through the door without waiting for him to open it.
Lucas sighed and retrieved the glasses, seriously considering downing both before joining the Spanish curveball on the balcony. But his mama had raised him better than that.
“Drink?” He offered one to Cia, and surprise, surprise, she took it.
Twenty-five stories below, a siren cut through the muted sounds of downtown Dallas, and cool March air kissed the back of his hot neck. If nothing else, he’d escaped the stuffy ballroom. But he had a hunch he’d left behind the piranhas in favor of something with much sharper teeth.
“Thanks. Much better than the frilly concoction I got last round.” She sipped the bourbon and earned a couple of points with him. “So. Now that I have your attention, listen carefully. This is strictly a business deal I’m offering. We get married in name only, and in six months, you file for divorce. That’s it. Six months is plenty of time to rebuild your reputation, and I get access to my trust fund afterward.”