One Summer In New York. Trish Wylie

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      Then there would be an engagement party in Boston. A month or so later would come the announcement that Aunt Louise was stepping down. A grand retirement luncheon would send her off in style.

      “In between those dates,” Ethan explained, “I would travel, so that you and I should not have to attend many events together. I will devise reasons that I have to spend prolonged periods in Florence or Sydney or the like.”

      Ethan went on. After those appearances Aunt Louise and Fernando would move to Barbados as planned. Ethan and Holly—the happy couple—would fly to the island for long weekends three or four times during the first year. In between those visits Holly would be free to live the life she chose, as long as there was nothing criminal or anything that attracted attention.

      Then they’d evaluate. They could continue to visit Aunt Louise and make excuses as to why they hadn’t yet married. Or they could tell fibs about a lavish wedding that would take an entire year to plan.

      “Or,” he continued, “especially if you were to meet someone else and need to be free, we could call off the engagement. Aunt Louise would be settled into her island life of leisure. By that point there would not be any danger of her wanting to return to frigid Boston and the working grind.”

      “And what if you were the one to meet someone?” she clipped, pretending to advocate a deal for herself.

      “Impossible!” he spat immediately. “I will never marry.”

      His harshness hit her like a slap in the face.

      Or perhaps it was a warning.

      “I see,” she assured him, and knew she’d understood his underlying message.

      “Therefore, when we split up, you will own this apartment outright—which you can either keep, lease or sell. And the engagement ring. And whatever clothing and jewels have been purchased. Your brother’s position will be secure. We can also agree on a monetary settlement. In exchange for very little labor on your part, I can provide you with a lifetime of comfort and luxury.”

      Game over.

      Enough was enough.

      Even if it could be as simple as he made it sound she had come to New York to get her own life straightened out. Not to get tangled up in someone else’s.

      “Ethan, I appreciate the offer. And I think it’s great that you’ve done so much planning on this. It shows how much you care about your aunt. But this is not for me.”

      He swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. His jaw tightened.

      Was he upset?

      Of course. This was a man who was used to getting everything he wanted. It wasn’t personal. She was a mere obstacle for him to overcome in order to reach his goal.

      Ethan tapped his tablet. “Holly Motta dot com—is that it?”

      She nodded, yes. What was he up to?

      He typed.

      “Huh...” His thumb slid through what she assumed to be her website’s gallery. “Huh...”

      What was he thinking? She took great pride in her work. Suddenly it mattered to her what he thought of it. Which was silly, because his opinion was of no concern to her at all. Yet she sat on the edge of the chair, spine held stiff as she waited for a comment.

      His thumb continued to swipe the tablet.

      “Hmm...” His next sound was at a higher pitch than the one before. It sounded like approval.

      “Why are you looking at my website?”

      Ethan ignored the question and continued. His finger slid less frequently. He was spending more time on each piece of work.

      Holly imagined what it might feel like to have that thumb slide across her cheek instead of the tablet screen. Or slowly down the center of her chest. That thumb and its nine partners on those two big hands looked as if they’d always know exactly what to do.

      More fantasy. She hadn’t been touched in a long, long time.

      Finally Ethan looked from the screen to her. “These are extraordinary.”

      “Thank you,” she breathed with gratification—and relief.

      He raised a finger in the air again. “Perhaps we can negotiate a merger that would be satisfying to both of us.”

      She squished her eyebrows.

      “In exchange for you posing as my fiancée, as I have outlined, you will be financially compensated and you will become legal owner of this apartment and any items such as clothes and jewels that have been purchased for this position. Your brother’s career will not be impacted negatively should our work together come to an end. And...” He paused for emphasis.

      Holly leaned forward in her chair, her back still board-straight.

      “I have a five-building development under construction in Chelsea. There will be furnished apartments, office lofts and common space lobbies—all in need of artwork. I will commission you for the project.”

      Holly’s lungs emptied. A commission for a big corporate project. That was exactly what she’d hoped she’d find in New York. A chance to have her work seen by thousands of people. The kind of exposure that could lead from one job to the next and to a sustained and successful career.

      This was all too much. Fantastic, frightening, impossible... Obviously getting involved in any way with Ethan Benton was a terrible idea. She’d be beholden to him. Serving another person’s agenda again. Just what she’d come to New York to get away from.

      But this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. An apartment. A job. It sounded as if he was open to most any demand she could come up with. She really did owe it to herself to contemplate this opportunity.

      Her brain was no longer operating normally. The clock on Ethan’s desk reminded her that it was after midnight. She’d left Fort Pierce early that morning.

      “That really is an incredible offer...” She exhaled. “But I’m too tired to think straight. I’m going to need to sleep on it.”

      “As you wish.”

      Holly moved to collect the luggage she’d arrived with. Ethan beat her to it and hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder. He wrenched the handle of the suitcase. Its wheels tottered as fast as her mind whirled as she followed him to the bedroom.

      “Good night, then.” He placed the bags just inside the doorway and couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.

      Before closing the door she poked her head out and called, “Ethan Benton, you don’t play fair.”

      Over his shoulder, he turned his face back toward her. “I told you. I always get what I want.”

      * * *

      Holly shut the door with her bare foot and leaned back against it. She pursed her lips together to keep from screaming. СКАЧАТЬ