The Tycoon's Temporary Baby(53)

“Is that your way of telling me you’re not going to take me up on my offer?”

“I suppose it is.”

Big Hank arched a skeptical brow. “You fancy yourself in love with Gwen? You think you’re going to impress her by turning me down?”

For one overly long instant, time seemed to stop. As if everything in his body came to a complete and utter standstill, but the rest of the world kept turning and slammed against him with full force.

Love? Was he in love with Wendy?

The idea was preposterous. Ludicrous.

And yet…

He shook his head, partly in answer to Big Hank’s question and partly to dispel the very idea before it could take root in his mind. “No. I don’t think this will impress her. I don’t plan on her ever finding out about your offer.”

“You know my offer goes both ways. I could guarantee you get the contract. I could make sure every government building in the country uses one of your smart-grid meters. Hell, I could get one in every house built in the next decade. Or I can guarantee that FMJ never sees another drop of government money. Not on this project. Not on any project. Ever.”

“You make it sound so tempting. Would you like a swivel chair to sit in and fluffy white cat to stroke while you repeat it?”

For a second, shock registered on Big Hank’s pudgy features. Then he burst out laughing. “You know, Jonathon, I like you. It’s a shame you’re not going to be my nephew-in-law.”

“I’m not going to accept your offer.”

“Not yet. But you will eventually. You’ll sit down and think about it. Do the math—which won’t take you very long, if what Gwen says about you is true. Once you realize how much money I’m talking about, you’ll come around. No woman is worth that much money.”

The truth was, he’d already been doing the math. Calculations had started running through his mind the second Big Hank had spoken. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe no woman is worth that. But where you’re wrong is in thinking that Wendy is the reason I’m saying no.” Big Hank’s gaze narrowed, but he didn’t interrupt. “This thing you do, this good-ol’-boy manipulation, this under-the-table way of doing business—” Jonathon gave his head a shake. “It isn’t FMJ’s style. We do things out in the open. We win contracts because our products are the best on the market, not because we have connections. FMJ’s an honorable company. We don’t make the kind of deals you’re talking about.”

Big Hank leveled a shrewd look at him. “That may be FMJ’s policy. But I’ve done my research on you. The kind of background you have makes a man hungry for success. If there’s one thing my twenty-five years in politics has taught me, it’s that there’s not much an ambitious man won’t do if you offer him the right incentives.”

“I suspect you’re right. About me. But I’m only one-third of FMJ. And you’re wasting your time.”

And with that, Jonathon turned and left.

He only wished he knew what drove him away: the fear that Big Hank was right and he really had made that decision for Wendy’s sake, or the fear that if Big Hank kept talking, eventually Jonathon would cave. Either way, he figured he was pretty much screwed.





Sixteen




Knowing what she knew about Jonathon’s childhood, Wendy half expected the house Jonathon grew up in to be a decrepit shack. But Marie’s house was just an average tract house, in a neighborhood that may have been on the low end of middle class. Though small, the house was obviously well cared for, with a neat, flower-edged lawn in front. Bicycles and toys littered the yard, a testament to the number of kids who lived there.

Jonathon parked his Lexus out in front. He studied the house, his expression grim, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

To lighten the mood, she said, “Oh, you’re right. This place is horrible. A real dump. Maybe we should go get our hepatitis C shots before going in.”

He glared at her. “It was worse when I was a kid.”

“Everything always is.” She could all too easily imagine how hard an impoverished childhood would have been on Jonathon, with his stubborn pride and his desperate need to control everything. She gave his thigh a pat. “Come on, let’s go in.”

She hopped out of the car, knowing he’d follow along if she forged ahead. By the time she’d removed the bucket car seat from the back, he was there to take it from her, but the tight line of his lips hadn’t softened at all.

“Think about it like this…whatever happens, they can’t be any worse than my family is.” She meant to make a joke of it, but the oddest expression crossed his face. She frowned. “What?”