I watched her, my mind skipping, brought back to square one by her palm, hitting the linen tablecloth with enough force to cause me to jerk.
“Stay with me Brant,” she said sharply. “You’re getting distracted and I need to run. Dinner… next Thursday. Be there.”
“Layana will remember. Email her the details.” I leaned back, watched her closely, saw her squirm in the seat against the chair. “You still hate her.”
“No,” she spoke sharply. “I never hated her. And don’t now. She’s fine. She’s just not what you need.”
“I don’t know how you’d know what I need. You’ve never even seen us together. Come by, she’s an incredible cook. You can join us for dinner.”
Jillian shook her head stubbornly, the glint of light reflecting in her diamonds. “No. I appreciate the offer, but no. Plus…” She smoothed her hands over the stack of papers before her, straightened the line of their edge. “I don’t think she would particularly want me there.”
I laughed. “Layana? See, you really don’t know her. She doesn’t have an unfriendly bone in her body.” Another shift. My eyes narrowed. She was hiding something. But then again, I always got that sense from her. “What?”
“Nothing. Any plans for this week?”
“Layana’s planned something. I’ll need the jet.”
Her frame stopped all movement. “For how long?” Skin around the mouth tight. Wrinkles emphasized. I looked at her and wondered. Why was she so attached to me? So afraid of my relationship with Layana. It wasn’t natural. Wasn’t normal. I shrugged. “We’ll be back by Monday. Don’t worry, the work won’t suffer.”
“It’s a very busy time, Brant.”
I tilted my head. “Not really. No irons in the fire. And you’ve done a good job of quieting any issues.”
“The board meeting is Monday.”
“And I’ll be back for it,” I repeated slowly, watching as she rose to her feet with a quick jerk.
“Please don’t forget the Rosewood event. I’ll have my assistant send her the details.”
Her. I didn’t think Jillian had ever muttered Layana’s name. A small snub, but noteworthy. Jillian was more of a mother to me than my own. It was important to me that they got along.
Chapter 15
The woman didn’t give up; I’ll give her that. From the start, Jillian laid down battle lines before Brant and prepared for war. Every date had been a battle, his schedule often filled with emergency items stuck in on a day that should be free. Twice during the preceding months, he stood me up, Jillian texting with a bullshit excuse after repeated calls to his cell went unanswered. And he let her do it all. Dismissed her actions with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I don’t understand why she hates me.”
“She’s protective,” he explained. “And stubborn,” he added, reaching over the table to spear an olive from my salad.
“Protective? Why?” I stared at him across the table, the Californian coastline perfectly framing his features. Wearing a loose white V-neck tee paired with designer jeans, the watch that glinted off of his wrist a thirty-fifth birthday present from yours truly. He looked every bit the California playboy, so many of who dotted this shoreline. What he didn’t look like was a genius. Geniuses weren’t supposed to come in perfect packages with straight teeth, gorgeous features and a strong build. They were supposed to come with pocket protectors and acne scars, horrible table manners and obnoxious egos.
The beautiful man before me shrugged. Took a sip of ice water. “She’s always been worried about a woman going after me for the wrong reasons.”
I nodded. “A reasonable concern.” I didn’t know a wealthy man who didn’t share the same concern. But those same men ate up the benefits of their concern. Went through twenty-year-old cocktail waitresses like they were Kleenex. Brant… well everything Brant did was different. “Does that worry you?”
He stopped chewing, swallowed, and set down his fork. “Worry about you?” He sounded genuinely confused. “Dating me for my money?”
“Or your brain. Or that cock.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively at him but his expression didn’t change. Dead serious eyes stared back at me.
“It’s never crossed my mind.” He didn’t say the sentence in a tone that indicated he needed to consider it. He said the sentence like the ludicrous idea was one that was beneath him. I reached out, ran my fingers over the top of his hand, the palm of it rolling under my touch and cradling my hand. He lifted, bringing my hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on my fingers.
I smiled. “Thanks for the vouch of confidence.”
“Thanks for sticking with me.”
“But we’re on for this weekend, right? You, me, and Belize?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”