to the artwork at hand. “Very nice,” he murmured.
She tossed her cascade of curls behind her shoulder. He could almost swear her hair looked totally different last time he’d seen her. It had been tied back—maybe that was it.
It wasn’t just the hair. Something was very different about Bree. She’d been pretty in a quiet and unassuming way when they’d met. Now she was undeniably a knockout. Even the way she carried herself seemed altered. Before, her shoulders were rounded, apologetic. Now she threw them back proudly.
Her stiff evening gown had concealed her body at the gala. This drapey number revealed it in tantalizing detail—her backside was a work of art all by itself. His fingers itched to pull at the bow tied her waist and unwrap the delicious present in front of him. “Are you hungry?”
Because I know I am. And not for food.
And her father was going to give him a million dollars to marry her? He’d approached the renowned venture capitalist to discuss an investment in his proposed business, and Kincannon had shocked him with his own proposal: one million dollars and his still-unwed daughter. Gavin’s first instinct had been to refuse, but he agreed to meet her. Now, his good fortune seemed almost unbelievable. And he certainly didn’t want to blow it by letting some wiseass muscle in on his prize.
“Uh, sure. What did you have in mind?” She blinked, those rich green eyes shining in a way they hadn’t behind her glasses. “There’s a good Thai place about a block away.”
“Perfect. Let’s go.” He wrapped his arm firmly around her waist as they moved back to the main gallery. No way would he let another guy get his hooks into Bree Kincannon.
He shot a warning stare around the room. Hands off. She’s mine.
Her hips shifted from side to side under his arm, stirring heat in his groin. His pursuit of Bree was fast morphing from a business proposition into a personal quest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aroused by a woman.
At the restaurant he requested a quiet table in the back room—a gold spangled festival of Thai kitsch—where they could talk undisturbed. He admired the rear view as he helped Bree into her chair.
She shook out her napkin. “The pad thai’s really good.”
“I’ll get that then.” He didn’t feel like reading the menu. He was far more interested in looking at her. A tiny silver heart hung from a fine chain around her neck, dancing dangerously near the enticing cleft between her breasts.
Now all he had to do was convince Bree he should be her future husband.
He poured some San Pellegrino into her glass. “Have you always lived in San Francisco?”
“We used to spend summers in Napa Valley when I was little, before my mom died, but other than that, yes. I’ve lived in the same house in Russian Hill since I was a baby.”
“That’s a lovely neighborhood.”
“I suspect that’s what my ancestors said when they built the house a hundred years ago. It’s lasted through several earthquakes and is big enough for me to share with my father without us driving each other nuts, so I’m very fond of it.”
“Is it strange still living at home with your dad?”
“I’m used to it, so it’s not at all strange to me. I’m sure some people think it’s a bit pathetic and that I should strike out on my own.” She sipped her water. “I suppose I will someday. When the moment is right.”
Phew. Gavin didn’t much fancy sharing a house with the old man. Especially since Elliott Kincannon was about to become his benefactor.
“Does your family live in San Francisco?” Her innocent question tugged him back to the present.
“San Diego, but I moved away from home when I was seventeen and never looked back. My dad wanted me to follow family tradition and join the military. He was furious when I applied to UCLA and got a full scholarship to study marketing. We had a big blowup and I left that night.”
“How awful! Did you patch things up?”
“It took about four years for him to give up his dreams of seeing me in a dress uniform covered in medals, but he’s happy that I’m successful doing something I like.”
“That’s all that matters, really, isn’t it? My dad couldn’t understand why I kept taking jobs at nonprofit organizations that paid me less than my age. I enjoyed the work and was glad to help. And since I already had a nice place to live, I didn’t need to rake in big bucks.”
“You’re lucky. I had a tough time right out of school. I was ready to take on the world and become CEO of General Electric, and my boss kept wanting me to file his papers and answer his phone instead.”
Bree laughed. “Trust me, it’s not much different at a nonprofit. Though there are less people so you have to pitch in more. I think it’s good to start at the bottom—then you get a chance to watch how other people do things.”
“And learn from their mistakes.”
“That, too.” Her bright smile flashed again, sending a charge of excitement through him. “Do you like working for Maddox Communications?”
“Sure. It’s one of the top agencies on the West Coast. We have some of the biggest clients in America.”
She cocked her head slightly. “Hmm, those are awfully generic reasons to like a place.”
“I like Brock and Flynn Maddox, too. They inherited the family business from their dad, but they’ve done a lot with it.”
Was it wise to tell her he wanted to strike out on his own? Probably not. Then she might start wondering if he was more interested in her funds than in her.
They gave their orders to the waiter, who quickly returned with their beers.
“I suspect my dad is disappointed that I don’t want to be a venture capitalist.” Bree raised her brows. “He can’t understand why anyone would do something unless there’s a profit involved.”
“Crazy.” Gavin managed to keep a straight face.
“I swear, I think the reason he never married again is that he couldn’t find anyone richer than himself to marry!”
Bree laughed, and Gavin forced himself to join in. He had to make sure she never found out about her dad’s proposition. “What do you think is a good reason to get married?” He poured some beer into her glass.
Bree looked up, as if studying the patterned ceiling for an answer. “Love, I suppose. What other reason could there be?”
His stomach clenched slightly. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Not since third grade. Randy Plimpton broke my heart so badly when he sat with Jessica Slade at the end-of-year picnic that I never recovered.” A mischievous sparkle lit her eyes.
“That sounds devastating. I can see how you’d never trust your heart to a man again.”
“That’s
