You're so busy staring at my ass that you haven't noticed the woman standing behind you staring at your ass. I can't say I blame her.
I look up to see Ellie disappear into the stock room, her back straight, her focus forward.
I debate whether to turn but I do. I pivot on my heel and face the woman who apparently is checking me out.
"Nolan Black," she says my name before I register that I've never seen her before. She's petite with long dark hair and a tailored white suit. "I'm Thea Morgan. I'm representing Shelby Leon. We can do this the easy way or you can make it hard. I'm open to either approach."
Somewhere in there is a reference to my cock. I can tell by the way she's checking out the outline of my erection through my pants. I have Ellie's ass to thank for that, which I will do, personally as soon as possible.
"My eyes are up here." I tap my nose. "My lawyer is across town. He's the one you should be speaking with."
She slides her gaze up my frame until her eyes are locked with mine. "My office is half way between here and there and I have a press conference scheduled there in an hour with Shelby by my side. I thought you might want to discuss terms before that happens."
"The only thing I want to discuss is how misinformed you are." I tense. "My lawyer has undeniable proof that I am not the father of Ms. Leon's baby. If my name is brought into this in a public manner, there will be repercussions."
"I'll postpone until I review what your attorney has." Her gaze darts quickly around the store. "I use Matiz products. I have to tell you I've never used anything better."
I nod. I'm not opening my mouth to acknowledge the compliment. I don't trust her.
"This is completely off the record, but I'm available." She wiggles her bare left hand in the air. "My divorce was finalized last month and Shelby mentioned that you helped her forget about her ex. If you're interested, I'm free tonight. Say at seven? No strings. Unless you're into that because I'm open to trying anything."
It's been awhile since a woman threw herself at me this way, but I'm not catching. I'm not even in the fucking ballpark anymore.
"I'm not interested."
"I should mention that I'm double jointed and I was a backup for the Olympic Gymnastics Team eight years ago."
It's impressive but not for the reasons she's going for. "I'm involved with someone. I have no interest in continuing this discussion with you. If you have anything else to say to me, bring it up with my lawyer."
Her cheeks flush as she bows her head. "Fine but the offer is still open. I can do things on a set of uneven bars that will make your head spin."
I arch a brow. "There isn't a man alive who is worth this. Don't beg for it. Never beg for it."
"I'm not begging," she huffs out a laugh. "I was offering."
"I declined." I glance at Ellie. She's back from the stock room and now in deep conversation with another security guard. "Twice. There is nothing you can say that will make me change my mind."
"I guess it's my loss and her gain."
"Who?" I turn back to look at her.
"The woman you can't take your eyes off of." She gazes at Ellie. "You look at her the way my husband used to look at me. Ex…my ex-husband."
"I'll let my lawyer know that he should expect your call and I expect never to see you again." I take a step toward the door. "Tell Shelby I wish her well but she needs to let go. I'll never be a part of her life."
Chapter 43
Ellie
"I have an interview with the NYPD next Friday." I lick the ice cream that's dripping down my finger. "I wanted to give you a heads-up since technically you're sort of my boss."
"No sort of about it, Ellie." Nolan leans forward to run his tongue over the path mine just took. "I'm your boss, and I want you to get that job."
"It's not for the academy." I hand him the cone and the last bit of melting cookie dough ice cream that's left in it. "I'll be working an administrative job, but it's still an in. It would be a big deal to me to get my foot in the door like that."
"I admire you." He places the cone into a glass decorative bowl on the coffee table. "You go after what you want."
"You do the same." I grin at him. "I don't think that bowl is meant for ice cream. It looks like a piece of art."
He glances to the side, his eyes skimming the bowl. "It looks like a piece of art that's holding a melting ice cream cone now."
I survey the space around us. I've never been to the shoebox when there's been sunlight filtering through the windows. It's Saturday afternoon and when he called to tell me that May had a playdate with a friend and he was free, I jumped at the chance to see him.
We shared a sandwich on the patio of an upscale restaurant on the Upper East Side. Then we rode the subway to Cremza and finally we raced back here to the shoebox, trying desperately to eat our shared cone before it all melted under the sweltering heat of late summer.
"The paintings in here are originals, aren't they?"
His eyes stay focused on my face. "Both are originals, yes. They belong to my mom."