between us.” Emboldened by the fact that Leo had cared enough to rush home for her, she went on. “We’re supposed to enjoy each other’s company when we cross paths, but we never cross paths.”
“We just went out a week ago,” he protested with a glint in his eye that warned her to tread carefully.
She wasn’t going to. If Leo pulled another disappearing act, this might be her only chance to make her case. Besides, he said they could talk about anything.
“Exactly. A whole week ago and we haven’t spoken since then, other than a terse ‘Good morning.’ I can’t handle your life if I’m not in it. Besides, our relationship won’t ever develop without deliberate interaction. On both our parts.”
“Daniella.” He put a thumb to his temple. Great, now she was giving him a headache. “What are you asking of me?”
He said it as if she hoped he’d blow through the door and ravish her, when all she really wanted was a conversation over a nice glass of wine. “For starters, call me Dannie. I want to be friends. Don’t you?”
Wariness sprang into his stance. “Depends on your definition of friends. The last time you brought that up, I got the distinct impression it was a euphemism for something else.”
“You mean sex?” Oh, Scarlett had just been chomping at the bit to get in the middle of this conversation, hadn’t she?
Leo gave a short nod. “Well, to be blunt.”
Oh, no. There was that word again. Her last fight with Rob flashed through her mind and she swallowed. Was she trying to ruin everything?
But Leo wasn’t a spineless, insecure guy like Rob who couldn’t handle a woman’s honest opinion. Besides, this was her marriage and she was prepared to go to the mat for it.
“Our marriage apparently calls for blunt. Since I might not get another opportunity to speak to you this century, here it is, spelled out for you. My offer of friendship is not a veiled invitation to jump me.”
His brows rose. “Then what is it?”
Laughter bubbled from her mouth. “Guess I don’t spell as well as I think I do. Didn’t we decide our relationship would eventually be intimate?” Not blunt enough. “Sorry, I mean, that we’d eventually have sex?”
To Leo’s credit, he didn’t flinch. “We did decide that. I envision it happening very far in the future.”
Gee, that made her feel all warm and fuzzy. “Great. Except intimacy is about so much more than shedding clothes, Leo. Did you think we’d wake up one day and just hop into bed? It doesn’t work like that. There’s an intellectual side to intimacy that evolves through spending time together. By becoming friends. I want to know you. Your thoughts. Dreams. Sex starts in here.” She tapped her forehead. “At least it does for me.”
“You want to be romanced,” he said flatly.
“I’m female. The math shouldn’t be that hard to do.”
“Math is one of my best skills.”
What was that supposed to mean? That he’d done the math and knew that’s what she wanted—but didn’t care? She stumbled back a step.
With her new distance, the colors of the Monet swirled again, turning from a picture of a girl back into a jumble of blotches.
She and Leo needed to get on the same page. She took a deep breath. “How did you think we were going to get from point A to point B?”
“I never seemed to have any trouble getting a woman interested before,” he grumbled without any real heat. “Usually it’s getting them uninterested that’s the problem.”
Ah, so she’d guessed correctly from the very beginning. “You’ve never had to invest any energy in a relationship before, have you?”
Gorgeous, well-spoken, rich men probably never did as often as women surely threw themselves at them. He’d probably gone through a series of meaningless encounters with interchangeable women.
“I don’t have time for a relationship, Daniella,” he said quietly, which only emphasized his deliberate use of her full name all the more. “That’s why I married you.”
Blunt. And devastating. She nearly reeled from it.
This was what he’d been telling her since the beginning, but she’d been determined to connect the dots in a whole new way, creating a mess of an Impressionist painting that looked like nothing when she stepped back to view the whole. The spectacular kiss, the security system, the gentle concern—none of it had signaled anything special.
He’d meant what he said. He didn’t want to invest energy in a relationship. That’s why he cut himself off from people. Too much effort. Too much trouble. Too much fill-in-the-blank.
There was no friendship on the horizon, no tenderness, no progression toward intimacy. He expected her to get naked, get pleasured and get out. Eventually.
She nodded. “I see. We’ll enjoy each other’s company when we cross paths and then go our separate ways.” He’d been the one euphemizing sex and she’d missed it.
Her heart twisted painfully. But this wasn’t news. She just hadn’t realized that being in a marriage that wasn’t a marriage was worse than being alone.
How could Elise’s computer have matched her with Leo? Oh, sure, neither of them had professed an interest in a love match, which was more of a tiny white lie in her case, but to not even be friends? It was depressing.
Leo looked relieved. “I’m glad we talked, then. To answer your earlier question, you’re everything I’d hoped. I’m very happy with my choice of wife. Jenna wasn’t right at all.”
Because she’d inadvisably bucked the rule: don’t ask Leo for more than he chooses to give.
“Speaking of which,” he continued, “I’d like you to plan a dinner party for twenty guests in about two weeks. Does that give you enough time?”
“Of course.”
Two weeks?
Panic flipped her stomach inside out. How would she organize an entire party in two weeks? Well, she’d just have to.
This was why Elise matched her with Leo, and running his personal life was what she’d signed up for. She couldn’t lose sight of that. “I’d be happy to handle that for you. Can you email me the guest list?”
He nodded. “Tommy Garrett is the guest of honor. Make sure you pick a date he’s available. No point in having the party if he can’t be there. Any questions?”
A million and five. “Not right now. I’ll start on it immediately.”
That was the key to enduring a marriage that wasn’t a marriage. Jump into her job with both feet and keep so busy she didn’t have time to castigate herself. After all, if she’d begun to believe this marriage might become more than an arrangement because of a few sparks, it was her fault. Not Leo’s.
Her mother was being taken care
