Live with Ryan? As a non-practicing “something or other,” she had no qualms living in sin, but she wasn’t even sure she liked the guy. And if she did, that could create another kind of problem. What reason would her uncle have to make them live together?
Ryan stood. “That’s not legal. That’s dead-hand control.”
Now at perfect eye level, Portia took the opportunity to check out his butt. No sag. Just pure, rounded muscle underneath those tight jeans. A noise something like a sigh mixed with a moan involuntarily escaped her throat, and Ryan twisted his head to catch her staring. She dropped her gaze to her knees and yanked on her skirt, trying to appear as though she hadn’t been checking him out, but when she peered up at him, he smirked down at her as though he not only knew the truth, but enjoyed it.
George coughed and she rested her weight on the arm of the chair to see around Ryan’s butt to the smiling George. “Perhaps,” he addressed Ryan’s concern. “But if you wish to contest it, you’ll lose your opportunity to fulfill the conditions of the Will. Do you really want to take that risk?”
“I don’t understand. What is dead-hand control?” she asked.
Ryan returned to his chair. “When the deceased leaves conditions in the Will or Trust he’s controlling from the grave. Apparently, my uncle is as domineering and manipulative dead as he was alive.”
Portia didn’t remember much about her uncle, but Reina had mentioned he was as wealthy as the Vatican and one of three Greek siblings who owned a number of businesses in the Detroit area. Although Ryan’s last name was Sullivan, he certainly looked Greek with skin the color of a cafe latte and thick wavy black hair.
“Yes, your uncle had a particular manner in which he preferred to do business. But, I assure you, there was always a method to his madness.” George handed each of them a business card. “You are required to call my answering machine nightly at ten from the mansion’s residential phone line. Both of you must speak confirming your presence in the home. At that time, the house alarm will automatically arm and stay on until six in the morning.”
Ryan ran his fingers through his hair and chuckled. “My uncle thought of everything.”
“Do you wish to forfeit the bequest?” George asked.
Before she could answer, Ryan chimed in. “Hell, no. We’ll meet his conditions and then we’ll sell the home. It’ll take a few months to sell it anyway.”
How dare he speak for her! She may appear fragile, but she’d never let anyone else make her decisions. “Excuse me, don’t I get a say in this?”
Ryan pivoted to face her and his lips quirked up to one side. “George, could you give Portia and I a few minutes of privacy to discuss this matter?”
George paused as if waiting for her objection then nodded. “Certainly. I’m going to go grab a coffee from the shop downstairs. Would either of you care for a cup?” He tilted forward and slid his short body off his chair.
“No, thank you,” she said politely, starting to feel the burn of Ryan’s glare on her.
“I’m good, George. Thanks.”
As he left them alone in the office, George closed the door quietly behind him.
Ryan rose from his chair and settled his butt on George’s desk immediately in front of her. “Are you honestly willing to throw away two million dollars based on the condition we have to live together?”
Not good. Now she had a direct view of the slight bulge behind his zipper. She gulped and clamped down her budding arousal.
He smiled down at her. “I promise you, I don’t bite. I’ll put the toilet seat down. I always squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom. And I’ll rinse out the sink after I shave.”
Such a sweet talker. No way could she allow him to get the upper hand. If this was going to work, she’d need to assert herself and prove Portia Dubrovsky would not be intimidated.
She stood, wedging herself between his spread legs and looked at him face-to-face. “It’s not that. I’m not comfortable with the idea of living with you.”
His lips pressed tight for a moment before they relaxed into a grin. “The house is huge. Five bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, plus a bunch of other rooms for whatever your heart desires. We won’t ever have to see each other if we don’t want to. It will be like living in the dorms at college, only with less beer and better food.”
He smelled like soap and man, fresh and clean from the shower, without a hint of cologne masking his true scent. She’d always preferred a man’s natural scent over a manufactured one. Unfortunately, Ryan’s intoxicated her, undermining the firm hand of control she so desperately needed to maintain with him.