The Negotiator (Harbor City 1)

What was it with this family? Didn’t they ever have craft time? Growing up, her mom had always made sure there was plenty of glitter, glue, odds and ends, construction paper, and other things so she and Bobby could invent and renovate. Her first project had been her three-drawer dresser that her mom had let her go to town on with a glue gun and a jar of old buttons. Really, that had been the beginning of her obsession.

“Sawyer and I got this old medical cart from the 50s at a flea market and then stripped it, sanded it, repainted it, and added a few bits and bobs to make it unique.”

“And he helped you with that manual labor?” Helene asked before taking another sip of tea.

“Uh-huh.” Clover nodded. “I know, he wasn’t into it at first, either, but he came around eventually. I’ve even gotten him to take some time off on his work-at-home Fridays to watch Flea Market Flip so we can get ideas for the next day’s trip to the flea market. We’re on the lookout for an old sewing table but haven’t found one we like quite yet.”

It took a few seconds for the bubbles of excitement about hitting the flea market with Sawyer to settle and then for reality to take a pin to each one so it popped. Once her period came, they’d never go hunting for a sewing table again. She swallowed past the emotion suddenly clogging her throat

because it wasn’t the flea market she’d really miss but going there with Sawyer. And that just sucked.

Helene didn’t seem to be experiencing the same bittersweet realization. Instead, the older woman just looked at Clover and smiled. “I’m impressed, dear.”

She was just about to ask why when the stylist appeared at her side and declared it was time to rinse. And with a small smile at her former nemesis, Clover followed the stylist. After all, finally making headway with Helene didn’t matter in the big picture because she’d be gone forever in just a few days.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sawyer paced the foyer in his penthouse. Still a little jet lagged from his return trip from Singapore, the last thing he wanted was to put on a tux and attend one of the Kenning Fund Galas his mom had organized, but if it meant spending time with Clover, then it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to take. His plane had been delayed and he’d barely made it home in time to change for the evening.

Nerves needing an outlet, he fiddled with the box containing the heirloom emerald and diamond ring he’d gotten out of the bank vault on the drive home from the airport. He’d spent most of the flight home thinking about how to do this before settling on a plan. The details were sketchy—shocker—but he had the big picture clear in his head. Since the limo ride would be their only opportunity to be alone, he’d do it there. He couldn’t wait until after the gala. It was past time to close the deal.

The door to her room opened and Clover walked out. He almost swallowed his tongue.

She wore a silver, gold, and black gown that hugged her curves and caught the light as she moved. Her hair was pulled up—not in a messy knot like he’d seen before but some sort of complicated hairstyle that twisted as it wound around her head, ending up in a loosely braided bun in the back. Loose tendrils in different shades of blond fell around her face, tempting him to reach out and touch their smooth curls.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She smoothed her hand down her skirt. “I went shopping yesterday with your mom.”

He started to laugh, figuring that she was kidding. However, when she didn’t crack a smile he realized she actually had gone shopping with his mom. “How did that happen?”

One side of her mouth twisted upward. “Let’s just say that I now understand why you find it so hard to tell your mother no.”

Now that was something he understood all too well. “Welcome to the family.”

Her lips fell into a straight line, and she pressed them together hard enough that a little white line appeared around them.

Shit. He had no fucking clue what he’d done wrong, but obviously something. Then it hit him. Family. Baby. Fuck. He was a moron.

Push forward, numb nuts.

Taking his own advice, he held out his arm to her and kept the word count to a minimum. “Shall we?”

Awkward didn’t begin to cover the elevator ride. Never in his life had he ever wished he’d gotten some of the skill to charm people that had gone to Hudson. Hell, right now he’d settle for not being a complete asshole. He clasped his hands together to hide their slight shake. He should not have had the second double espresso on the tail end of the twenty-four-hour flight. Not only was he jittery, his brain was a jet-lagged mess.

“So is there any news?” he asked. He’d been gone for three days after all.

Clover’s chin went up. Never a good sign. “You mean have I gotten my period?”

He hadn’t, but it was too late to rephrase his question now so he nodded.

“No,” she said and walked out of the elevator and through the lobby, the sway of her hips a thing of mesmerizing beauty as she strode across the sidewalk and slipped into the back of the Town Car as Linus held open the door.

He managed to wait through two stoplights before the box in his pocket began to feel like a ticking bomb. He needed to do it before they got to the gala. He couldn’t explain why it had to work that way, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his time was just about up. It was probably just the nerves and caffeine talking, but once the idea had settled into the back of his brain it was all he could think about.

The city lights illuminated Clover’s profile as they drove down Fifty-Seventh Street, highlighting the curve of her full lips and the delicate beauty of her face. The sight robbed him of everything but the need to let the rest of the world know that she was his. Marriage may not have been part of his big-picture plan in the beginning, but it was now. And all because of Clover.

With the Bayview Hotel looming only a few blocks ahead, he reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring box, opened it, and held it out to Clover. “I got this for you.”