Jardin's Gamble (Haven, Texas 9)

A Lamborghini? Was he serious?

Okay, so she knew he had money. But that was crazy. She’d never ridden in a new car before, let alone something like that. To her shock, he moved around to the passenger door and opened it for her.

“Are you getting in or have you changed your mind?” he asked.

Moving forward carefully, she slipped into the seat. Her hands moved over the buttery soft leather. He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned to her.

“Belt,” he reminded her.

She reached over and slipped her seatbelt on. “This car is gorgeous.”

Jardin just grunted and started it up. Thea closed her eyes. She swore she just came a little.

“You okay?”

She opened her eyes as he backed out of the parking spot quickly.

Holy. Shit.

“Yep,” she said in a strangled voice. “I’m good.”

“Hmm. Where’s the school?”

She gave him the address, waiting for him to say something asking how she could afford to send her brothers to that school, but he didn’t say a word. As they exited the garage, he hit the call button on his phone. She ha

lf-listened as he moved his meeting with Mr. James, who was obviously a friend as well as a client.

When he ended the call, she turned toward him, taking in his strong profile. Dark hair that was neatly trimmed. He was clean-shaven and impeccably put together. Yet there was a darkness swirling beneath the civilized veneer, and it called to her.

Why couldn’t she be attracted to some nice guy? Someone with a steady job, cute smile. Someone who would come home each night, complain about his co-workers, eat a simple dinner, and get up and do it all over again.

Why did she have to be attracted to the unattainable?

Argh.

“So, you didn’t say why you changed your mind about firing me?”

He glanced over at her quickly then moved his gaze back to the road. “You want to tell me why you need to go to the school and not your father?”

No. She did not. And she got his message loud and clear.

“Fine,” she said. “Guess we just won’t talk. Probably better for everyone.”

He cleared his throat. “You didn’t fight for your job like you did yesterday. Why? Why did you just give in?”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you shouldn’t have “fired” me over such small things?”

“Being late and having to leave during the day are not little things.”

“Every other morning, I’ve been early. I’ve probably put in so much overtime, I could have a week off and still be in the positive. I’m good at my job. I’m good with the clients. Yet you couldn’t say yes when I ask to leave to go to my brothers’ school because they’re in trouble.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Pardon?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Huh. She hadn’t thought of it that way.