Chapter 23
LANEY
I didn’t want to use his card. Even as I slid it across the counter to pay, part of me squirmed. It was sleek and heavier than a regular card, looking like something from the future.
As the cashier ran it through the machine, I tensed, half expecting alarms to go off or security guards to come crawling out of every corner, tasers drawn to apprehend a suspect in the theft of one of Mr. Westwood’s precious cards.
None of those things happened. The machine beeped. The transaction had been successful. The cashier handed it back like it was no big thing, which, I supposed, it wasn’t.
I’d chosen a pair of shoes and I’d paid for them, just like every other customer the cashier had rung up today. Yet for me, it was massive.
Something Gwen seemed to notice when she looped her arm through mine as we left the store. “Stop looking like you just committed a felony.”
“It just feels weird,” I protested on a slightly embarrassed groan. “I have my own money and the insane amount he’s already given me. I can afford whatever I want, but he’s insisting that I use his money. The money that’s still in his account.”
She chuckled. “You’re married, Lane. I think it’s sexy that he wants to pick up the tab.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need him to take care of me.”
“Maybe you don’t, but maybe he wants to take care of you. Maybe it makes him feel good to do things for someone else.”
“Maybe, but does it matter what he wants outside of what we agreed to? I went into this to protect my business and to have a child, not to be kept like a lady of leisure.”
We ducked into another store next door to the one we’d just left, and it was full of cocktail dresses, the music blaring from the speakers way too loud.
Gwen made a beeline for a shimmering rack of reds and emeralds and I drifted after her, realizing not for the first time that I was way out of my depth.
“Speaking of having a child, how’s the baby plan coming along?”
“Wow,” I said. “You’re real subtle, do you know that?”
She grinned. “All I’m saying is you’re married, you’re living together, and you’ve got a fertility clause written into an ironclad contract. I was just wondering if there’s been any progress in the baby-making department.”
I hesitated, slipping a pair of gold heels off a display next to the rail where she was browsing through dresses. “I don’t know what to tell you. Everything you said is true, but I asked him if we could hold off for a few weeks and he hasn’t brought it up again.”
“No, you asked if you could hold off on going to the clinic and trying IUI for a few weeks,” she said, pumping her eyebrows at me. “I’m more interested in finding out if there have been any traditional baby-making activities going on in that penthouse.”
I scoffed. “I wish.”
Her brows shot up. “You do?”
I felt my cheeks exploding with heat, but I’d caught him looking at me early in the mornings or at night after he got home.
I’d done my own fair share of staring when he had his back turned.
There was definitely a particular kind of tension brewing between us as far as I was concerned, but I had no idea if he felt the same way.
“I’m attracted to him,” I blurted out. “I don’t want to be, but I am.”
She laughed and gave me a pointed look. “Well, duh. Your husband is hot , Lane. All the women and at least half the men in the city are attracted to him.”
I let out a low groan and swiped a palm over my face.
“That might be true, but he’s impossible to read.
I kid you not, one minute, he’s all stone-faced and emotionally frozen, and the next, he says something or looks at me like he wants me, and I wonder if I’m hallucinating.
I just don’t know how to get past where we are. ”
“Do you want my advice?” she asked, not waiting for a response before she gave it to me anyway. “Jump him. He’s your husband. You’re, like, biblically and legally obliged to service him.”
“I don’t think—” My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my bag, seeing a new message from said husband I was apparently supposed to be servicing waiting on my screen.
Sterling W: Did you buy another pair of ugly hiking sandals?
I blinked. “Oh my God.”
Gwen frowned. “What?”
I tilted the screen toward her. As soon as she saw it, she laughed so hard, she nearly dropped the dress she was holding. “He noticed what you bought?”
“I spent maybe a hundred bucks. How is he already—” My phone buzzed again.
Sterling W: Buy something more expensive next time. Make it worth my while.
I scoffed under my breath, thumbs already flying across the screen.
Me: Sorry I’m not draining your bank account fast enough. I’ll try harder.
Sterling W: Please do.
Me: You actually mean that genuinely, don’t you?
Sterling W: So much. Please? ;-)
Me: You made a winky face… Do you even know where to find actual emojis on your phone?
Sterling W: Jamie showed me once. I haven’t had any use for pictures as a form of communication since I was a toddler, though. I prefer the written word.
Sterling W: Although now that you’ve mentioned it, I do remember something he told me about eggplants and peaches. I forgot exactly what it was. Care to enlighten me?
Suddenly, I was smiling. I hated that I was smiling.
Gwen narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You so are.” She leaned in and skimmed her gaze across the messages still open on my screen. “You guys are flirty in a weird, repressed, emotionally damaged way. It’s kind of hot.”
I groaned. “Do you think my Tevas are ugly?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely.”
By the time I got back to the penthouse, I expected him to be hidden in his office, surrounded by spreadsheets and bathed in the blue glow of three monitors. My dearest husband seemed to enjoy spending his time away from work working .
Instead, I found him in the living room. The blinds were open, the city lights glittering beyond the windows, and the giant TV filled the space with the low hum of a baseball game.
Sterling was on the couch, legs stretched out, laptop balanced on his thighs, barefoot, wearing?—
I blinked, unable to fully comprehend what I was seeing, but Sterling Westwood was wearing a faded gray Stanford T-shirt and actual sweatpants.
“Hey,” I said, still standing just inside the doorway.
He looked at me over his shoulder, and for once, it didn’t look like he was bracing for war. His hair was even a little tousled, the tension I usually saw in his shoulders gone.
“Hey,” he said, the merest hint of a smile ghosting across his lips. “Did you manage to find a dress?”
I held up the shopping bags in my hand. “A dress and shoes. The kind without hiking treads, just so you know. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
His lips quirked, but he didn’t take the bait. “Dinner’s on the counter. I ordered in from that Italian place we went to. I figured shopping might’ve made you hungry.”
I walked farther into the penthouse, setting my bags down once I reached the kitchen. “You’re not in your command center.”
He shrugged, turning his gaze back to the game. “It was a long day. I thought I’d relax a little.”
I watched him for a second longer. “Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?”
“Really? You think I’m coming down with something just because I’m watching a game?” He chuckled and looked over at me again. This time, his eyes were soft and sparkling with amusement in a way that seemed truly relaxed and comfortable. “You look nice.”
My eyebrows swept up. I hadn’t changed out of my work clothes yet. My hair was windblown. I was flushed from the shopping and one of my shoes was pinching my heel. I didn’t call him out on it, though. Obviously, he was trying to be nice.
“Thanks. So do you.”
It hit me then that I hadn’t seen this version of him before. Right now, he didn’t look like some ridiculously rich and successful businessman. He didn’t look like a world-class closer, a strategist who could go toe to toe with the best of them and win.
Amazingly, Sterling just looked like a man, off-duty, sitting in his living room like he’d always meant to be here waiting for me to come home to him. In that moment, I didn’t just feel like a visitor in his life. I felt like a possibility.
“Who’s playing?” I asked, my voice quiet as I kicked off the annoying shoes and walked over to the living room. When my gaze flicked to the screen and I recognized the uniforms of the players, I chuckled. “Oh, my dad roots for them too.”
“Would you like to invite him and Gwen to the party this weekend?” he asked as I sat down on the opposite end of the couch he was on. “It’s a family affair, and seeing as we’re family now, it means they should be there too. Since Gwen is your best friend, that includes her as well.”
“Thanks. Gwen will probably come, but I haven’t spoken to my dad much this week.” I had no idea why I’d told him that.
He and I didn’t really open up to each other, but surprisingly, he shifted on the couch to face me, moving his laptop to the coffee table and giving me his full attention.
Before he even spoke again, I could tell that he really had dropped his Ice King act for tonight, not even putting his mask back on now that we were engaging in an actual conversation.
“Any normal person would think that what we did was insane. I get where your dad is coming from, Laney. Give him time. Invite him to the party to let him know that you’d like to include him, but if he doesn’t come, then it’s okay. We’ll keep trying.”
My heart wobbled in a really weird way, almost like it wanted to melt a little bit. Obviously, I couldn’t have him realizing it. “My dad would think that your family is going to drag me to some country estate to hunt me for sport.”
He laughed. Really laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We haven’t done that for years.”
I found myself smiling at his joke without really meaning to, and our gazes suddenly hooked.
It didn’t feel the same as when we’d been looking at each other before.
This was different. Heavier. The distance between us on the couch seemed to shrink, my entire being suddenly begging me to scoot closer.
“I bought you something today,” I said, my voice almost breathless for some reason I didn’t really want to think about. “Let me go get it for you.”
I shot up and practically ran to the kitchen before I did something stupid, like crawl into his lap. Behind me, he groaned, low and deep, and the sound hit me like a shot of wake-up juice to the very core of my libido.
“That’s not why I gave you a card,” he said. “You were supposed to buy things for yourself, not for me.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath, trying my best to shake off all the feelings, and the lust, and the crazy thoughts that were making me seriously consider Gwen’s advice to service him.
Once I felt slightly more centered, I scooped a shoe box out of one of my bags and carried it over to him.
“Ugly hiking sandals of your very own,” I said ceremoniously as I dropped the box into his lap. “They’re a perfect match for my favorite pair.”
Obviously disgusted, his lips curled and his nose wrinkled. “You actually wear hiking sandals? I mean, you struck me as the type, which is why I tease you about it, but you seem to prefer sneakers.”
“When I’m working,” I said. “One of these weekends, you owe me a hike. I agreed to join your world. The least you can do is take a quick, Saturday morning glimpse into mine every so often.”
When he let out another one of those low, sexy groans, my gaze cut to his and sparks seemed to ignite in the air between us. My nipples reacted inappropriately and I quickly took a step back, folding my arms over my chest to hide them.
“I should get to bed. Enjoy your game.”
Before he could say another word, I grabbed my shopping bags and fled to my bedroom, genuinely fearing that I’d get lost in his eyes again if I stayed in the living room with him. My heart was thundering, everything inside questioning if running had been the right move.
Unless I was very much mistaken, something had happened between us back there. I just didn’t know what to make of it—and I certainly didn’t know if he would have wanted me to make anything of it at all.