“Right, on to better stuff,” Noah rejoined. “How’s Matt doing on the dating circuit?”
“He’s discussed it with you?” Lauren couldn’t keep the note of surprise from her voice.
“Nothing is sacred between brothers,” Noah said solemnly.
Catching the glint in Noah’s eyes, she replied, “Maybe not, but some things are between me and my client, so no comment.”
The Whittaker women smiled, and Lauren could sense their approval for not bending to Noah’s teasing.
“Now I know Matty Boy could have had a career as a male model,” Noah continued unperturbed, “I think it’d have been easier if you’d just held a bachelor auction.” A slow grin spread over his face. “You know, just let him go to the highest bidder.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And I’m assuming you’d have wanted your take?”
“Sure, I’ll claim my share of credit for making Matt what he is today,” Noah deadpanned. “How do you think he got that scar on his jaw?”
“The same way you got the one at your hairline.”
Lauren turned at the sound of Matt’s voice.
He’d come up behind her, and she couldn’t help her shiver of awareness.
She told herself again that her response was natural because he was big and male and any woman would feel petite and feminine in his presence. But the trouble with lying to herself was that there was no comfort in it.
Noah looked thoughtfully at his brother. “You know, if I could have predicted your future as a pretty boy, I’d have aimed to break your nose instead.”
“I’d have liked to see you try,” Matt replied dryly, before looking down at her. “Are they giving you a hard time?”
The question was stated casually, but there was an undertone of protective concern in his voice, as if he was worried his brother’s teasing might be too much for her to handle.
The rational part of her wanted to tell him she was more than capable of holding her own, but the feminine part of her went all soft and yielding.
“Yeah, we’ve been teasing her,” Noah said.
“Then stop,” Matt said curtly, his voice carrying a note of steel.
Lauren looked from one Whittaker brother to the other. Matt held his brother’s gaze, his jaw set, while Noah met him head-on.
To her surprise, though, none of the other Whittakers looked bothered by the exchange.
Noah tilted his head, then said easily, “No problem.” After a beat, he murmured, “If that’s how the wind blows…”
Was Noah suggesting she and Matt were a couple? Until today, if anyone had asked, she would have said nothing could be further from the truth.
But after several hours of watching women gawk at Matt, her resistance to him had hit a new low.
And a voice whispered that the only reason Matt had participated today was for her. Why else brave his brothers’ teasing and the relentless scrutiny of the press corps? Why else risk denting his image as a no- nonsense, steely corporate tycoon?
Sure, he was on the hunt for a wife, but he’d recently made it clear that he wanted her.
A guy who was willing to put himself and his reputation on the line that way for her was worth taking risks for, wasn’t he?
She chewed her lip. She was about to make the best—or worst—decision of her life.
In the space of a day, Lauren reflected, she’d gone from an unattached woman, settled with a feline, to a woman looking for love in all the wrong places—in particular, in Matthew Whittaker’s penthouse.
Matt had picked her up tonight after work and they’d driven to his apartment ostensibly to help him add some softening touches to his place. But she knew the truth. If ever there was a woman in danger of falling into the abyss, it was her.
She was a nervous wreck—so aware of him that his every movement practically made her jump. She had no experience making the first move, but acting normally while the air sizzled between them was next to impossible.
After ordering in and eating a quick dinner, they sat in Matt’s living room, having unearthed his personal possessions from the boxes in his closets. Out came hockey trophies from high school and college, and out came mementos from his vacations in Australia and Myanmar. They also uncovered framed photos of family holidays.
Lauren studied one photo of Matt and the rest of the Whittakers standing in front of a Christmas tree. She recognized Matt’s parents, Ava and James Whittaker, from passing acquaintance and photos in the newspapers. Ava, she knew, had gone back to school to get a law degree and was now a family court judge. James still sat as head of the board of directors of Whittaker Enterprises.
“That one was taken two years ago,” Matt said.
She looked up. “It’s a good shot.”
She knew it had to be a recent photo. Quentin and Elizabeth’s baby was in the picture. It was the sort of photo a woman hunting for a husband would like to see in a guy’s apartment. The type of photo she liked to see.
It explained a lot about why Matt would be looking for a wife. The Whittakers made an attractive, happy family—the type of Norman Rockwell tableau anyone would be proud to display on their mantel. The sole person not paired up was Matt.
“It’s from my pre-MEB days,” Matt said.
In response to her questioning look, his lips quirked up, and he explained, “MEB—Most Eligible Bachelor days.”
She felt his smile down to her toes, but she looked at the frame again and ran her fingers along the inlaid wood. “This frame is just right for the photo.”
“That’s my sister and sisters-in-law’s doing. They know better than to give me anything that’s not ready to set out.”
“Lucky you.”
She’d brought along a few photo frames of her own, just in case. After her first visit to his apartment, he’d okayed her purchase of some decorative items. Now she’d placed a photo frame here, a vase there, an interesting fluted bowl somewhere else.
It was the first time she’d gone shopping for a client.
“Go to Tiffany,” he’d said, “and just bill it to my account.”
She’d been thinking more along the lines of Bloomingdale’s or Macy’s, not quite so high-end but still elegant. In the end, though, she’d gone along with his suggestion. It was his money, after all, and she knew he had plenty of it.
The shopping trip had been reminiscent of her time spent putting together her bridal registry. Except then she’d been shopping for her future husband, and this time, well, it had been like feathering a love nest for her lover.