"There's not much to say. We're getting to know each other."
"Are you starting to get over Stephen?"
Bella felt her stomach clench and turned away. "I don't-" She broke off. "It's a different kind of relationship with Michael."
"In what way?" her aunt said, digging for information.
Bella shrugged. "Michael is just for fun," she said, nearly choking on the words as she said them. "Stephen and I were in love."
"You've been the kettle calling the pot black," her aunt said. "You're telling me to open the door and give Fred a chance. When are you going to give Michael a chance?"
Never, she thought. Instead, she smiled and wagged her finger at her aunt. "We're not going to turn this conversation on me. You need to freshen up and tell that man out there you'll join him for dinner."
Sitting in a penthouse suite in Chicago, Michael glanced at the invitation for the Valentine wine tasting at the exclusive historical Essex House and debated attending. It was mostly a social event, where Atlanta's elite would try to show each other up. He didn't give a damn about that, but The Essex House had recently courted him. He suspected they wanted him to invest and lend his name because their bottom line was sagging. The trouble was that he wouldn't have complete control, he would only have a vote in the management of the House, and that didn't appeal to him at all.Still, turning The Essex House into a financial success was seductive, another challenge.
The word challenge brought Bella to mind. In fact, she'd been on his mind more often than ever lately. Yes, she knew how to burn up his bed, but she got under his skin in other ways. Those violet eyes of hers seemed to see right through him at times. He knew such a thing wasn't possible, but that didn't stop him from wondering … .
He glanced at the invitation again and made a decision. He picked up his cell and dialed Bella.
"Hi. How's the Windy City?" she asked, clearly reading her caller ID.
"Windy and cold," he said. "What are you doing?"
"Some work for my aunt. She's out to dinner with a man," she said, the shocked delight in her voice making him smile.
"You sound surprised," he said.
"She's always been such a workaholic. She was married and divorced for a while before she took me in. She dated every now and then, but nothing serious and nothing in the last few years. A man who works down the street wanted to take her to Buckhead and she almost refused. I had to prod her to go out." Bella laughed. "So she's eating a gourmet meal and I'm eating gourmet jelly beans."
"You could call my chef and have him bring you something," he offered.
"That's okay. I really don't mind. How's your work going?"
"Good," he said. "I'll be back in town tomorrow morning and need to attend an event tomorrow night. I'd like you to join me," he said.
"What is it?"
The wariness in her voice irritated him. "The Valentine wine tasting at The Essex House."
Silence followed.
"Bella," he prompted.
"The Essex House? Isn't the wine tasting one of those events that's featured on television and in the newspaper?"
"Yes, and national magazines. It begins at seven. You can either get ready at my house earlier-"
"Whoa, I didn't say I could go. For one thing, that's making our relationship way too public. I told you I didn't want that."
"Why are you so concerned about that?"
"Because I don't want to have to explain things after we're finished," she said.
His irritation tightened further. "It's not that big a deal."
"Maybe not to you. What am I supposed to say? That you and I had a sexual arrangement and now it's over?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Our arrangement is for an affair. An affair includes other activities. If you're that worried about what to say after we're finished, just tell people you dumped me."
Bella gave a short laugh. "Right," she said. "As if anyone would believe that."
"Why not?"
"Because women don't usually dump handsome, rich bachelors."
"You can be the exception," he said. "If you're not at my house by six, I'll pick you up at your apartment at six-thirty. Enjoy your jelly-"
"Wait!"
"What?"
"I don't have anything to wear," she confessed in a low voice.
"Pick something out tomorrow. I'll pay for it. I'll send my driver over with my credit card."
"I have to work tomorrow. Saturday is our busiest day."
"Make good use of your lunch break then," he said without budging an inch.
She gave a sigh. "You are so bossy. It would serve you right if I maxed out your card."
He laughed. "Sweetheart, give it a try. You couldn't do that in a year, let alone one day."
After a busy morning at the spa, Bella headed straight for the shopping district. She was uncomfortable using Michael's money for her clothing, but there was no way around it. She visited several high-end shops, but nothing felt right. Accepting his money to purchase her clothing just seemed to remind her how much she wished she could help her aunt on her own. On a whim, she went into a vintage shop and found a black, beaded, chiffon flapper-style dress she could pair with black boots and a silk scarf. The style was more funky luxe than strictly luxurious, but it suited her and didn't cost the earth.If Michael didn't like it, then perhaps he wouldn't take her out in public again, she thought deviously. She worked the rest of the afternoon and scooted out an hour early to get ready. She would never admit to the surge of excitement and anticipation sizzling inside her.
Ridiculous, she thought as she lined her eyes and applied red lipstick. The event would just be a group of stuffy society types. Her doorbell rang and her heart lurched. Michael's driver. Grab scarf, purse and coat, she reminded herself. "Just a minute," she called.
Collecting her things, she opened the door to Michael, drop-dead gorgeous in a tux. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs. "Oh, I didn't expect you."
He lifted his eyebrow. "Who, then?"
"The driver," she said, feeling his gaze travel over her from head to toe.
"You-" He hesitated a second and his mouth lifted in a half grin. "Sparkle."
Pleasure rushed through her. "Thank you. I didn't do too much damage to your card."
"I told you I wasn't worried about it." He glanced beyond her to her apartment. "This is where you live?"
"Yes," she said, trying not to feel self-conscious. Her apartment probably could serve as a closet in the home. "It's small, but cozy."
"It's not the safest neighborhood," he said.
"Neighbors here watch out for each other. I'm okay with it," she said stiffly and stepped into the hallway.
"I wasn't criticizing," he said.
"Your house is much more luxurious, but I'm happy to have a little space of my own."
"You say that as if you think I've always lived like I do now," he chided, closing the space between them. "You know where I came from."
"Looking at you in that tux, it's easy to forget," she said.
"Don't," he said. "One of the things I like about you is that you're not overly impressed by my wealth."
"So you like me disagreeable?" she asked. "Does this mean I should tell you I've decided not to attend the wine tasting?"
He took her hand in his. "Not a chance. Besides, I can tell you want to go."
She gave a mock sniff. "I read about it in the newspaper. They are supposed to serve some good desserts, so that should make it worthwhile."
Michael ushered her to his limo and the driver whisked them to The Essex House. The carefully tended mansion buzzed with activity. Crystal chandeliers lit the gleaming marble floors and antique furniture. The sound of a piano playing romantic standards in another room wafted through the house. With her fingers linked in Michael's, she almost felt like this was a real date.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"It's beautiful. It reminds me of a high-class woman from the 1800s. The place seems to have a personality of its own."
"Excellent description," he said. "Maintaining a high-class woman is expensive."
Bella couldn't help wondering if he felt the same way about his relationship with her. The notion threatened to sour her pleasure, so she quickly brushed it aside. "Good thing they continue to make enough money to do the job."
"We'll see," he said with a sliver of doubt in his voice.