Page 25 of Improper Proposal
She looks at me and smiles because she realizes I’m talking about her.
“So is this your way of getting me alone so you can do dirty things to me?”
“Yup.”
She laughs and opens her mouth to respond, but her cell phone rings. “Who the heck could that be?” She pulls her phone from her purse. “I hope it’s not work.”
She takes a look at the number and a frown tugs at her brow as she slides her finger over the screen.
“Nancy, how are you?”
I shoot Harper a glance and catch her worried expression in the dashboard lights. I slide my hand across the seat and put it over her thigh, giving a squeeze to let her know I’m here if she needs anything.
“He can’t do that,” she says. She listens for a minute longer, then says, “Don’t worry, Nancy. Nothing will happen to your grandmother. I’m away right now but as soon as I get back, I’ll be all over this.” A moment and then, “No, no of course not. It’s pro bono.”
She hangs up and lets loose an exaggerated breath. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
She shakes her head and puts her phone back in her purse. “A friend of mine who has lived with her grandmother since she was born is having rent troubles. They live in a rent-controlled building, and the landlord is threatening to kick them out when Grandma Grace dies. He can’t do that. I’ll fight for them.”
“Pro bono?”
“Yeah, I do a lot of pro bono cases for the folks in the old neighborhood.”
Motherfucker. How could I ever for a second thought this woman was a gold digger? The more I get to know her, the more I like, and yeah, I want more than just sex when we return to the States. But will she ever trust me, trust that I’m not like any of those men who were there one day and not the next?
The truth is, she might be on the wrong adventure, but it’s the right one for her—I’m the right one for her. I just need to somehow prove it before the week is over.
Chapter Eight
Harper
I can’t believe I’ve been having fun with this amazing family for five long days—with them still thinking I’m George’s surprise. Here it is Tuesday afternoon, and Will has gone to town with one of his cousins, leaving me to hang out in the kitchen with Claire, Bronwyn, and Annabella.
Soon enough, the kitchen will be filled with family again, all convening to eat Claire’s famous apple pie. I sip my coffee as I help these wonderful women peel apples for the pie. As I take it all in, my heart bursts with happiness, until little warning bells jingle.
You have to tell them who you are, Harper.
I open my mouth, but the bang of the front door hitting the wall as it’s flung open garners our attention. Will comes rushing into the kitchen and drops a brown paper bag onto the table. I peek inside. “What’s this?”
“Only the best chocolate in the world. It’s my mom’s favorite. She’d disown me if I didn’t bring her back some.”
My heart squeezes. How sweet of him.
He winks at me. “Don’t worry. I got you some, too. I know you like sweet things.”
Yup, he’s right. I do. I swallow against the fullness in my heart.
In no time at all, the house fills with people, and I’m lost in conversation and playing games and eating pie. By the time the crowd dies down, I fake a yawn and excuse myself, needing time alone to gather my thoughts. I have to tell these people who I am, and I have to do it now.
But I don’t want to.
“I like sweet things, too,” a rich, familiar voice says from behind me.
Standing in my bathroom, I turn to see Will leaning against the adjoining door, his expression suggesting I’m the sweet thing he likes and he’s going to eat me alive. “Though, I can’t decide.”
“Oh?”
He steps up to me, rubs his thumb over my lips, then slides his hand between my legs. “Which do I taste first?”
