"True enough." He paused. "If you don't mind me asking, why'd you pick me? I mean, other than my desperation?" His lip did quirk up slightly then, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "You could have picked some homeless guy off the street and shared half your inheritance with him. There are lots of desperate people in this world, Kira, if you're looking to give money away."
"My father would never believe I had fallen in love and married a homeless man, Grayson. It would be too easy for him to contest the payout of the trust. My father is well connected, as you can probably imagine, and I have to be careful. I had to pick the right person. A convincing person."
He tilted his head. "Your father contesting the payout of the trust . . . Is that something I need to worry about?"
I shook my head. He would more likely expend effort toward covering it up or putting a spin on it that worked in his favor, should a marriage to Grayson Hawthorn actually occur. Still . . . "I don't think so, no, but I've learned that where my father's concerned, it's wise to be diligent." Despite my optimistic words, a chill went down my spine.
"I see. So you intend to convince your father you saw me on the street, fell madly in love, and we married in a week?"
I sighed. "He won't find it such a stretch. He sees me as . . . impulsive . . . flighty . . . irrational."
His dark eyes regarded me speculatively. "And are you? Are you those things?"
I bit my lip. "Impulsive, yes, I admit I can be. Flighty, no, I don't think so. Irrational, aren't we all sometimes?"
He seemed to consider my answer for a second. "So that will be our story? We bumped into each other here in Napa, fell in love, and impulsively married because we were irrational—but not flighty—with new love?"
I gave him a small smile. "Basically. I guess we can discuss the details so we're in sync." My heart had started racing again. "So you agree? We have a deal?"
"If all pans out once I meet with the executor, yes, we have a deal."
I nodded and let out a breath. "You won't regret this, Grayson."
"Oh, I'm sure I will in some way or another, Kira. But . . . desperate times—"
"Call for desperate measures. And this is about as desperate as measures get."
He smiled, flashing me a set of straight, white teeth, but the same disdain he'd shown me earlier was back in his expression. He didn't see me as someone giving him a gift, but as someone driving him to do something he didn't want to do. As if I hadn't given him a choice. Well, that was fine. I didn't need his gratitude. I needed his name. I couldn't deny the disappointment I felt, though. When I'd seen him on the street the day before, he'd seemed . . . lost, broken, but still compassionate. However, the man sitting in front of me now was completely different—stiff and cold. Had I really misjudged him that poorly?
As if he had read my thoughts, the smile disappeared from his face as quickly as it had appeared. "There are just a few more things I think we should discuss briefly."
"Okay." I crossed my legs. His eyes followed my movement, and then he clenched his jaw and looked away before speaking.
"Since you're going to be living on my property and doing some accounting work, I think we should be up front about the nature of our relationship."
"Relationship? I thought that was clear. We're marrying for money. We have no relationship." The awkward, stilted nature of this meeting highlighted that fact perfectly.
"We'll be business associates. Nothing more."
"Agreed. As long as you're discreet, conduct your personal life as you see fit."
"I intend to."
"Fine."
"Good. I don't want you to get any . . . fanciful ideas about this arrangement."
I raised a brow. "Fanciful?"
"Romantic. Inaccurate."
I gritted my teeth. "Yes, you've made it clear I'm not your type. And I'll try my very best not to fall for your irresistible charms and make things," I narrowed my eyes, "unbearably awkward."
"Good."