A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,24
a stunning, witty beauty who doesn’t give a rat’s ass what I think about her.”
He tugged her closer again, and she had to admit she was quite liking being in his personal space. It was disarming and disconcerting, all at the same time. Which might also be part of his plan. Keep her in a pheromone-induced fog, sweet talk her into doing exactly what he wanted, believing whatever he told her.
Only he didn’t seem to be spinning any tales, even if he was making her head spin.
“So, it’s my complete lack of tact that attracts you? Along with the babbling and other imperfections? I really have apparently been going about the whole attracting guys thing entirely the wrong way.”
“So…does that mean there isn’t a guy? At the moment?”
“I realize we haven’t exactly made any commitments here, with our bodies or our brains…but I wouldn’t be standing here—right here—if there was someone in my world. I don’t do that. I couldn’t do that.” She cocked her head. “And you?”
“Will you believe anything I say?”
“Answer my initial question…and I’ll let you know.”
“First, no, there is no one special. I’ve spent the last five years concentrating on building my own business and that hasn’t left a lot of time for socializing. I’m not a monk, either, but let’s just say I’ve found the dating world to be immensely frustrating and even more unfulfilling.”
“I find that almost impossible to be true. Not for me, mind you. I personally completely agree. But it can’t be that hard for you.”
“I didn’t say it was hard for me to find a date. I’m not trying to be disingenuous here. But finding someone I want to keep dating? Yeah, that’s been a bit trickier.”
“Poor, hot-looking rich guy syndrome, huh?”
He laughed. “It’s more pathetic than even you realize.”
“We all have our crosses to bear.”
He kept grinning. “You really are…unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Just because I don’t pull punches and I’m not staring at you because I’m trying to figure out how to part you from some portion of your trust fund—”
“Just because you’re being yourself around me,” he said. “And it’s a self I am growing to like more every second.” He tipped her chin up, and brushed a soft, incredibly hot kiss across her lips. “And it’s a good thing you’re attracted to me, and not my money. Because I’m not entirely sure I have any.”
“Must be some empire you’ve been building these past five years.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, then the corner of her mouth. “No, I did that completely on my own. I haven’t touched any of my Hamilton money. The whole wad of it is still sitting in that trust fund.”
She sighed, a part of her—most of her—wanting to rescind that entire part about not being a one-night-stand kind of girl. He kept on touching her, and talking in that low smooth voice, and looking like…well, how he looked, and she honestly didn’t know how much longer she was going to remain the upstanding, morally centered woman she liked to believe she was. In fact, she’d far rather be down-lying, and centered beneath him right about now.
She struggled to keep track of what he was saying. “What, your uncle won’t let you spend your trust fund? Is that why you’re here?” She really couldn’t care less about his money, but she paused and leaned back a fraction when all of what he’d said sunk past the hormone haze. “Do you think Lionel Hamilton is stealing from you? His own great-nephew? Is that why you’re here?”
Trevor smiled then, and the way he looked at her…it was amazing she wasn’t simply a puddle at his probably perfect feet. “No, no one is stealing from me. I’m here because I’m not sure I am, in fact, Lionel’s great-nephew. And, if my suspicions are correct, then I’m not entitled to that trust fund.”
“What? How could you not know if you’re his nephew? Do you think you were adopted? And you’d still be a Hamilton, unless you’re saying you have some hang-up about being a blood relative. Or you’re saying Lionel does.”
“I’m not adopted.”
“A bastard then? No insult,” she added quickly. “To you or your parentage. I just meant, if you think you’re not a real Hamilton, and you’re not adopted—”
“I know who my parents are, and they were legal when they had me. It’s not me, personally. Well, it is me, personally, but it all started a few generations back, with my great-great-grandmother.”