"No," she said fiercely, hoping like hell that he wasn't going to pat her on the head and tell her that her feelings were sweet but unreturned. "I meant it. I mean it. But I hadn't intended to say it."
She licked her lips. "It's okay if you don't feel the same. I mean, I never really stopped loving you. I just had to get to know you again. You--" She swallowed, her voice breaking on a sob. "You hated me for a while. That's a lot to get past."
"It is," he said gently. Then he kissed her, soft and sweet and so full of love that it made her feel like the most powerful, beautiful woman in the world. "And I love you, too."
She closed her eyes on a sigh. "Thank God," she said. "It would suck to be alone in this."
They both laughed, and he rolled over, pulling her on top of him. She straddled him, then leaned in for a kiss. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Why are you doing the show, really?"
"Because of you."
She blushed with pleasure. "Liar."
He chuckled, then pulled her down so that they were skin to skin, her head nestled under his chin. "Not at first, I'll admit that. But now--even if I had to give up the Drysdale Mansion, I'd stay on the show."
"So it's all worked out? You'll end up with ownership of the house after Mansion Makeover airs?"
"Am I a brilliant negotiator, or what?"
"I'm impressed," she admitted, then drew in a breath, thinking.
"What?"
"Well, I--oh, hell. Did you talk to an attorney before you signed the papers?"
"An attorney? Well, Gregory looked over the series contract. That's my agent. And Amanda's doing the real estate deal. Why would I--"
"Because it would suck if the IRS got the mansion," she blurted, rolling over and sitting up as she spoke.
His brow furrowed. "It would," he agreed. "Do you know something I don't?"
"I thought--I mean, Daddy suggested... Oh. He was bullshitting again."
"What did he say?"
She waved her hands, annoyed with her father anew for making her worry about Spencer's solvency. "I don't remember exactly. Tax problems and money laundering allegations. All sorts of craziness."
"And all true," Spencer said, his voice as hard as his features. "Just not me."
"Oh." She crossed her legs and pulled the sheet up. "Color me confused."
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, his back to the headboard. "You still see much of Brian?"
The unexpected question hit her with the force of an avalanche. Her chest tightened, and her throat closed up. She clutched the sheet tight in her fists and forced herself to breathe normally. "No. We--um--don't really talk anymore." There. The truth. Some of it, anyway. And at least her voice sounded normal.
"Consider yourself lucky. Rat bastard screwed me."
Me, too. The thought came unbidden, but she didn't voice it. Instead, she asked, "What happened?"
"What happened is I hired Brian as my financial advisor and he screwed me nine ways to Sunday. It was a huge fucking mess there for a while, but my credit's clear now. My bank account, however, is pretty damn empty."
"My God."
"Who would have believed our boy Brian could be such a shit, right?"