“About that,” Zeke began, glancing at Regan. “Since we’re confessing our deepest darkest secrets tonight...”
“We’re not in love,” Regan declared.
“We’re getting married because Regan can’t get the inheritance from her grandmother until she’s married or turns thirty and she doesn’t want to wait four more years.”
Harley was familiar with the terms of Regan’s grandmother’s will. She knew her friend chafed at the restriction and didn’t blame her for finding a workaround. The Sinclairs were a very traditional family. But Regan was a modern, independent woman. One who was eager to strike out on her own.
“I see. I wish I could say I’m not disappointed.” She eyed her cousin, searching for some sign that Zeke wished Regan felt more for him than that of a friend. But either he was good at hiding his feelings or she’d misinterpreted the way he smiled whenever Reagan was around.
While Harley hoped for Zeke’s sake that the former was true, she wondered if marrying his good friend might spark romance between them. Or was she merely hoping that if love blossomed between Zeke and Regan, the same might happen between her and Grant? Although he’d been very clear that he had no intention of entering any kind of emotionally intimate relationship with her, their chemistry continued to bubble beneath the surface. What if ongoing exposure intensified their connection? Keeping her wits about her might be impossible. After all, the half of a decade she’d been away from Grant hadn’t dimmed her desire for him.
But she was no longer an impulsive eighteen-year-old. And she was certain that Grant’s willpower was far stronger than hers. He might let himself fall prey to the attraction between them, but he’d kicked her to the curb once. So what made her think he wouldn’t cast her aside a second time? She’d just have to be happy with a friendly companionship if that’s where things ended up.
“You’re such a romantic,” Regan said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “While the rest of the world is being pragmatic, you still believe in happily ever after.”
“I guess I’m an optimist,” Harley admitted. “I couldn’t do the work I’m doing if I weren’t.”
“How’s it going by the way?” Zeke asked. “Are you having any luck finding funding for Zest?”
“The fundraiser was
successful, but didn’t come close to replacing the annual contribution we received from Wingate Enterprises.”
“Have you mentioned any of this to Grant?” Regan asked. “His family is one of the country’s leading philanthropists.”
Harley shied away from Regan’s suggestion. “He’s offered, but I’m not sure it’s the best idea.”
“Because of Daniel?” Regan asked.
“I don’t want him to think that I’m using my son that way.”
“But you wouldn’t be,” her cousin insisted. “Surely he’d know that.”
“Maybe.” Harley shrugged. “But if I can’t be one-hundred percent sure, it’s better that I find financing on my own.”
Regan sighed. “I admire you. I’m not proud of the lengths I’m going to get my trust fund, but money equals independence.”
“That’s a fact I don’t take for granted anymore,” Harley agreed, comparing her comfortable childhood growing up surrounded by wealth to the desperate lives of the women who benefited from her nonprofit. “Life is a lot simpler with money than without it.”
“It certainly makes the world go around,” Zeke put in, shooting Regan a telling glance.
* * *
Since finding out he had a son, Grant was learning that being flexible was necessary for parenting. Thus, when Harley called at a little after ten that morning and asked if she could leave Daniel with Grant for a couple hours so she could attend a business lunch, he’d agreed.
“I’m sorry this is so last minute,” Harley said, as she entered his office with Daniel. “The woman I hired to babysit had a family emergency.”
“Things come up,” he said, his gaze roving over her in appreciation.
Despite her harried expression, she looked very professional in an emerald-colored sheath that elongated her slim form and made her green eyes pop. Four-inch heels drew attention to her elegant calves and brought her lips within easy range of his. Grant was wondering if she’d let him mess up her soft pink lipstick as she kissed Daniel and rumpled his dark blond hair.
“You be good for your dad,” she warned her son. “And no dessert unless you eat all your vegetables.”
Daniel rolled a pleading gaze toward Grant who offered him a conspiratorial wink. Although he knew it drove Harley crazy, he enjoyed playing the part of the “fun” parent on occasion to get in his son’s good graces.
“I really appreciate your flexibility,” Harley said. “This meeting came up fast and I can’t turn down any opportunities to fund Zest.”
“It’s no problem. My afternoon schedule has only one appointment in it. And you know how much I love spending time with my son.”