Treasured by Thursday(59)
“Dale,” she offered without hesitation.
Silence.
“Bloomingdale. Seems I’m in need of a new black dress.”
“I’ll get you for that.”
“No, I’ll get you. I’m using your credit card.”
As she should, he mused.
“Drive safe,” he told her.
“Jump off a building,” she replied.
Hunter hung up with a smile on his lips.
He turned to drop his cell into the cradle on his desk to charge when it rang. Thinking it was her, he answered laughing. “Couldn’t stop yourself, could you?”
There was a moment of silence, then a sound that resembled a fax machine tone. He glanced at the screen, noticed the call came from Remington.
Hunter listened for a few seconds of continuous hum and squeals, then hung up.
He attempted to call Remington back and was met with the same tones assaulting his ears.
Without thought, Hunter disconnected the call.
Chapter Eighteen
She’d arrived at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport to a long limousine that drove her to the hotel. She’d had a stopover in the airport a time or two in the past but had never visited the city. It was greener and much flatter than she expected. Overall the city was easy on the eyes. Wide streets compared to the mainland of Florida that she’d spent time in . . . and certainly more spread out than the Los Angeles area.
Seeing as it was Texas, she half expected to see cowboys on horseback, guns mounted on their hips.
There were plenty of Stetsons, and boots . . . but not a horse to be seen . . . well, outside of the few fields they’d passed before landing.
The two-bedroom penthouse suite at the Dallas Hyatt held a second floor. A second floor in a hotel. Gabi tried not to be impressed and failed.
Hunter had yet to arrive, but he was already there.
Flowers, yellow roses, adorned the table in the center of the dining area in the suite. A card to the side had her name. She leaned against a chair as she opened the note from Hunter. “I thought the state flower of Texas was the yellow rose. I guess I didn’t pay enough attention in my geography class. Bluebonnets are a little harder to cut and place in a vase. I hope these will do.”
She leaned down to take in the fragrant blooms.
Hunter was wooing her. She felt him slipping a little deeper with every passing bud.
“They’re just flowers, Gabi. Don’t forget that.”
Still, it was more than that.
She knew it . . .
He knew it.
She went ahead and took the upstairs bedroom. Her dress didn’t have to suffer baggage claim and didn’t need to visit an iron. After unloading a couple of days worth of clothing . . . more than she needed, she moved back into the main living room and opened the massive blinds.
A vibrant city sat below, cars traversed the highways . . . people scrambled to make their deadlines.
She watched in silence.
How had she gotten here? The penthouse suite in a Dallas hotel waiting on her billionaire husband . . . a man in name only.
Well, maybe not only.
He’d flirted with her on the phone, albeit under the cloak of necessity.
Still, she wasn’t so far outside the mating game to not recognize when a man was trying not to sound interested.
The constant barrage of flowers and phone calls were the most unexpected part of Hunter’s pursuit. The fact he pursued her at all was shocking. Why bother? They were married and stuck for a little while at least.
Yes, it would be easier for both of them if they could find a comfortable wave to ride.
If someone had told her she’d be eagerly waiting his arrival and wondering how he would greet her when he did show up two weeks ago, she’d have argued. As it was, she wanted to see him. Wanted to sit back and witness his interaction with his business partners. She’d been too caught up the night they’d announced their marriage to notice much about how he spoke with his colleagues.
Would he be arrogant? Confident? Demanding?
Yes, she decided. All of the above. How else could a man his age be as successful as he was?
Perhaps his need of a wife was there to soften some of his edges . . . or at least give the appearance to others that he had a smoother side to his personality.
If his need for a wife were that simple, she’d know about it already. No, Hunter needed her in his life for something bigger. But what?
She’d thought about the what for the better part of the week.
It killed her not to hire her own private investigator to find out.
He’d trusted her to tell him her secrets, and she would hold off and wait for him to reveal his.
The sound of the lock in the door disengaging with a beep caught her attention.
He wore a suit, the cut perfect on his broad shoulders.
Their gazes caught.
The bellhop moved around him. “Would you like this upstairs, Mr. Blackwell?”