Page 26 of Final Proposal

Almost eighteen million.

Oh my God.

“Fordham Sharpe? Sharpe International?” Gregory asks as if I’m a dumbass. And yes, my head spins at the name. At the conglomerate that is S.I.N. That’s who he was? Is? Jesus. “We’ve stayed in their resorts before. We’ve discussed how we’d beg, borrow, or steal to get on their preferred contractors’ list. We’d be set with work for life. Are you really that dense that you don’t know who they are?”

I don’t react to Gregory’s condescending bullshit because I’m focused on two simple words: Fordham Sharpe.

Not just Fordham the University, grumpy guy whom I threw the word vagina around to numerous times because it made him blush.

But Fordham, the uberwealthy, wheeling, dealing, empire running, everybody knows his family, Sharpe.

“I went to Wharton with those fuckers too,” Joshua says, and I look at him. “Triplets who think they’re perfect in every goddamn way.”

“Why thank you, Joshua. I didn’t recognize you with the beard. I’d love to return the compliment, but I don’t believe you were giving one.” I look up to see Ford standing there, a smug smile on his lips, and his eyes on my brother briefly before they meet mine.

Whew.

He’s still got it. Has it. Whatever. Because even now with my insides a mess and my head all over the place, one look from Fordham Sharpe reconfirms he definitely still has it.

And I still definitely want it.

And by it, I mean every single thing that makes everyone stand up and take notice.

Even me. Even now.

Fordham Sharpe.

Jesus. How did I not put that together?

“Sharpe.” Joshua holds his hand out in greeting to Ford, trying to cover his ass. “You know I was just joking, man.”

Ford looks at Joshua’s hand and then back up to his eyes, his expression stoic. “Of course, you were. If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to Ellery alone for a minute.” His smile is patronizing and if I weren’t still reeling, I might find more amusement in Joshua being dismissed so easily.

In a show of awkwardness I’m almost certain I’ve never seen from my brother, he pulls back his un-shaken hand and shoves it in his pocket as if he never extended it.

When neither Joshua nor Gregory move away because they’re too busy trying to figure out how to right their wrong and gratify Ford, Ford places his hand on my back and says, “Shall we go outside for a moment?”

“Sure,” I murmur, but he’s already leading us out the doors, and I attempt to process that he’s here. That he bid against me. That his hand is the one currently heating my back and sending shock waves through my system.

We don’t speak as we move through the random people milling around outside and take a seat on a bench under a shady oak tree. Ford sits so that he’s angled toward me, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees and his face close to mine.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, his eyes kind but curious. Cautious.

“Well, that certainly was unexpected,” I say to give myself a minute to find words and thoughts that sound coherent, because the ones in my head are a jumbled mess.

“It most definitely was.” He gives a measured nod. “What do you think you were doing?” he asks and instantly my back goes up because one, that wasn’t what I expected him to say. And two, he sounds like my brothers, like he doesn’t believe I can handle a project like this. I immediately have a sour taste in my mouth.

Don’t ruin the man I thought you were, Ford. Please, don’t.

I straighten my shoulders, prepared to defend myself. “What do I think I was doing? Seems to me I was doing the exact same thing you were. Bidding on a project that has a lot of possibilities. A lot of potential.”

“You were bidding against me.”

“I wanted it. Of course, I was going to bid against you and everyone else in there. How was I supposed to know that Fordham Sharpe of Sharpe International Network was going to march in there and try to steal the show?” I ask with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “It’s not like I even knew your last name when we met.”

“A conversation in a bar doesn’t warrant a requirement for you to know everything about me. For the record, I talked to you way more than I normally talk to anyone, so . . . take it for what it’s worth.”

And the grumpiness makes its appearance.