A small crowd gathered around a group of men and Chloe moved in. The Christensen brothers were infamous for being the black sheep of Dallas high society. The rumor mill had speculated for years about why the brothers hadn’t entered into the family business and why they never showed up at events, the country clubs, or any of the other places where the elite hung out to pat each other on the back. Two of the brothers were pro athletes, the other a sheriff a few counties over. As for Nathan, he was the blackest sheep of all. He’d run off and joined the Navy. Rumor had it that Byron hadn’t even known when his son returned home. Talk about estranged …
Through the press of well-wishers and ass-kissers, Chloe caught sight of him. At least, she thought it was him. The picture of the brothers in the Dallas Morning News had obviously been several years old. The man she was now looking at resembled that guy. But he was older. Bigger. And projected a hardness that Chloe swore she could feel in the center of her chest. Probably a tough nut to crack. Fortunately for her, she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.
Chloe made her way toward the brothers, taking note of the fact that the accumulated net worth of the people here was enough to buy a country or two. Hell, with the politicians they all likely had in their pockets, it was safe to say they owned this country. Chloe had played to crowds like this for years. The rich and powerful loved to have their egos stroked. Unfortunately, she’d made the rounds and most of these people had already given her the cold shoulder—Byron included—which was why she had her sights set on Nathan Christensen. He didn’t want his newly acquired wealth. She did. It was a win-win situation.
“I just loved him so much, you know?” Chloe stopped short of her goal. She recognized the woman fake-crying into a pile of tissues as Miranda Christensen, Byron’s widow. Decked out in a sexy black dress, she looked better suited for a cocktail party than a memorial service. “I gave him the best years of my life, Nate! How could he leave me nothing?”
Best years of her life? She was twenty-eight, for crying out loud. A year younger than Chloe. Nathan—Nate—listened to her rant with a stoic expression. With shuffling steps, Chloe sidled in closer and hid her curiosity behind the lip of her wineglass.
“He didn’t leave you without anything, Miranda. You got the house, the cars, and I know for a fact you’ve got a bank account with plenty of cash in it.”
“I’ll have to sell it all,” she sniffed. “Do you know how expensive it is to maintain a house that size? What was Byron thinking?”
Chloe was pretty sure he’d been thinking with what resided down south.
“Just consider my offer, okay, Nate? I loved Byron. And I was there for him at the end.”
Oh, I bet you were. Chloe snorted a little too loudly. Right underneath him.
Miranda whipped around, her dark eyes glistening as she narrowed her gaze. The former social climber threw off enough shade to make Chloe wish she’d worn a sweater. Nate Christensen turned his head in the direction that Miranda directed her anger. Chloe froze and clutched the wineglass closer to her mouth to keep it from falling open. Up close, Nate Christensen was absolutely breathtaking.
Tall, and with a body packed with muscle that seriously stress-tested his dark gray dress shirt, he stood out among the crowd of leisurely wealthy. Dark brown hair brushed his brow in the front and the sides were buzzed short, giving him an edgy look. His nose looked as though it had been broken at one point, a tiny bump below the bridge that gave it away. Sharp cheekbones accentuated his full lips and strong jaw. But none of those godlike features held a candle to his eyes. The most beautiful shade of hazel she’d ever seen, and clear as a river in midsummer.
Chloe had never been the sort of woman to get weak in the knees over a good-looking guy, but holy crap. She wobbled on her stilettos as if the shock of his gorgeousness had temporarily disrupted her motor skills. Heat rose to Chloe’s cheeks and the flush spread down her neck. Her heart rate kicked into gear and fluttered against her rib cage at the same time her stomach decided to crawl up her throat. Heat continued to swamp her as she studied him, her attraction almost embarrassing in its intensity. Guys like Nate Christensen hung out with supermodels. Willowy, bottle blond socialites. Starlets. Guys like that didn’t date overworked charity administrators who didn’t have the time for a walk let alone a personal trainer, and the hips and belly to prove it.
While Miranda and Nate continued their conversation in hushed tones, Chloe waited for an in. She usually had time to prepare, to research the fat cat she was about to butter up. Byron Christensen’s death had been sudden, and the only information she had on his oldest son was that he’d been estranged from his dad for years. That and he had no interest in his family’s wealth. Fine by her. She was more than willing to take some of that money off his hands. All she had to do was convince him that she deserved it.