“That money should be mine and you know it, Nate. Call me tomorrow and let’s talk.”
Chloe nearly choked on her chardonnay as Miranda brushed a hand along his arm and gave Nate a flirty smile in parting. Really? At your husband’s memorial service? Byron Christensen’s widow was klassy with a capital K. Nate watched her go, his expression an impassive mask that gave nothing away. He shifted his focus and that inscrutable hazel gaze locked with Chloe’s. A shiver of anticipation traveled from her head to her toes as he studied her. Chloe had never felt more devoured by a simple glance and it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. A renewed rush of heat spread from her abdomen, lower. She took a deep breath, held it in her lungs. And let it all go in a rush.
It was now or never. Time to make her move.
TWO
Nate turned toward the woman who’d been eavesdropping on his conversation with Miranda. He’d meant to intimidate her, to stare her down until she got the fucking message that he wasn’t about to let some rich-bitch Dallas party girl spread any more gossip about him or his family. Whatever he felt about his dad or Miranda, it was his business and no one else’s.
God, he was already so sick of this bullshit.
His gaze locked with hers and he prepared to give her his best fuck-off glare. Instead, Nate simply stared. His blood heated as he took her in. Pinup gorgeous with rich auburn hair, full lips, and a curvy figure that filled out her business-casual outfit in all the right ways. Her full breasts practically spilled from the open lapels of her shirt and the generous curve of her hips made Nate itch to reach out and grip them. He clamped his jaw down to keep it from hanging open as a rush of pure lust shot through his bloodstream. She hit every single one of his yes please! buttons and his dick perked up like a hound scenting fresh game. He didn’t even know who she was and he wanted her. Their eyes locked and rather than look away, she met his gaze with a brazen challenge that fanned the flames of his mounting libido.
Nate forced himself to appear impassive when what he really wanted was to reach out and touch. A woman like that could bring a man to his knees and Nate was more than up to showing her what he could do for her from that exact position. Rather than tuck tail at his forced stoicism, she squared her shoulders and stepped up to him. Ballsy. And not at all what Nate expected.
“I’m sorry about your father,” she said without preamble. “But between you and me, he could be a real ornery bastard.”
Nate canted his head to one side as he regarded her, careful to keep his expression stern and emotionless. “So, you knew him?” He appreciated someone being straight up with him for a change.
“No,” she replied in that same guileless tone. “We spoke a couple of times on the phone. Then again, I did tell his secretary that I was pregnant with his baby in order to get past the gatekeepers. It might have had something to do with why we got off on the wrong foot.”
A smile tugged at Nate’s lips but he didn’t give in to his amusement. “Probably.” In a sea of pretentious windbags and vapid, bottle blond daddy’s girls, this one was a breath of fresh air. Her dark auburn hair was piled atop her head in a haphazard mess that made Nate wonder if she’d rolled out of bed and into her car. Freckles dotted her nose and dusted her cheeks, accentuating the deep emerald green of her eyes. Her full lips were glossy, but not painted on like most of the women here. She wasn’t made up or overdone. It might have been the beer talking, but her fresh face and brash sincerity was exactly what Nate needed right now.
“I’m Chloe by the way.” She held out her hand. “And you are the infamous Nathan Christensen.”
His brow knitted. “Nate. I hadn’t realized that my infamy elevated me to no-introduction-needed status.”
Chloe smiled. An open, friendly expression that tugged at the center of Nate’s chest. “Being a Christensen comes with its own brand of notoriety.”
She had that pegged. Likewise, being a Christensen didn’t always attract the sort of woman that Nate was interested in spending time with. He didn’t have the time or the patience for Dallas high society. The women who fished that pond were as fake as their plastic surgery and wanted a man with a bulging wallet and one who wasn’t carrying a closet’s worth of emotional baggage.
“How so?” Her voice was naturally sensual, almost a purr and Nate couldn’t help but wonder what it would sound like in the grips of passion. His heart raced just imagining it. He didn’t want their conversation to end. Chloe was quick on her feet and her honesty was a fresh breath in the stale air.
She cocked her head to the side. “Oh, come on. Like you all don’t know that you’re the black sheep of this herd.”
Nate smirked. “I’d say you’re in the right company then.”