Susan Meier - Falling For The Pregnant Heiress

She shook her head. This was Ziggy...

No. Actually, she was with Trent. Adult. Sexy. Trent.

She slid into the tall silver shoes the shopper had also bought. Trent had said she made distinctions that didn’t matter? Maybe thinking of him as a different guy was one of them?

Maybe she should go back to thinking of him as Ziggy—Seth’s friend, not hers—to end all this confusion?

* * *

Sabrina came out of her bedroom, and Trent’s mouth fell open. He’d known she’d look good. He assumed Claudine had bought the blue dress to match with what Sabrina had instructed her to get for him—

But wow. Blue was her color and she was born to wear the sparkly fabric that hugged her curves.

“I look like a hooker, Ziggy.”

“No. You look like a woman who wants to have a fun night out on the town. And don’t call me Ziggy.” His voice softened with the familiarity he was feeling with her. “I like when you call me Trent.”

He smiled at her and she weakly returned his smile. He couldn’t imagine why a shift of names seemed to trouble her, so he turned in a half circle, showing off the Armani suit. “And how do I look?”

“Like a guy who forgot his tie.”

He’d nixed the tie and had opened the top few buttons of his shirt in deference to the heat. But he also wasn’t about to wear a suit dancing. And come hell or high water he was taking her dancing.

“Let’s go.”

She stayed right where she was. “If I’m going out in this, you’re wearing your tie.”

He relented. Not because she intimidated him but because he intended to get her on his side so that when he suggested dancing she’d happily agree. But he also had to acknowledge there was a certain boost a person got when wearing expensive clothes. He might like to fish. He might also be very at home in a small-town bar. But he was equally at home with power brokers.

Whether he liked admitting it, Sabrina was a sort of power broker. Smart and savvy, she could hold her own with the best of them. In a way, it was a coup that he’d gotten her to dress sexy.

Now he just had to come up with interesting dinner conversation that would win her over and put her in the mood to dance because if he was in Barcelona he was going to his favorite club.

But the second they were settled in one of Barcelona’s beautiful restaurants and had ordered, she asked about his work.

“I buy stocks. I sell stocks. I buy bonds. I sell bonds. There’s not much else to it.”

“I know you think there’s not much to what you do, but it’s a skill. A gift.” She looked at him over the salad the waiter sat in front of her. “Have you ever considered creating your own mutual fund?”

The horror of the thought almost made him choke. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. To contribute to society? To help other people?”

“Look, I have everything set up so that I do a reasonable amount of work and still have time for fun.”

“I’m just saying you’re the perfect person to create and manage a mutual fund.”

She went on talking about business through the entire dinner. When dessert arrived, Trent felt four IQ points smarter, but not one iota relaxed.

He came to Barcelona to relax. She was ruining that.

“Do you always talk business?”

“No.”

“Just with me, then?”

“It’s the one thing we have in common.” She shrugged. “My father always talked business at the dinner table with my brothers.” She shrugged again. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

Her past came into focus for Trent. “Let me get this straight. You talked business at the dinner table every night?”

“Not every night. My dad had business dinners some nights. When he was away, my mom would joke and play with us. But when my dad was around, we talked business.”

“You think men only want to talk business?”

“Not just men. Women like to talk business, too.”

“All the time?”

“Some of my most productive conversations are over lunch or dinner.”

Knowing what he’d been told by Seth about their childhood and adding in this tidbit, even more of Sabrina’s personality clicked for him. “Oh, honey.”

“What?”

“We are so going dancing tonight.”

He rose from the table, walked over and helped her with her chair. “Dancing?”

“I’ve seen you at charity balls. You love to dance.”

And now that he thought about seeing her dancing, he realized he’d never seen her dancing with Pierre. Hell, he’d never seen Pierre.

“I do love to dance.”

“Remember how much fun you had at the art show in Paris last year? The one where you could be Sally McMillan because your family isn’t as recognizable in Europe as they are in Manhattan?”

* * *

Sabrina’s heart stopped. One of her brothers had told him. “All right, who do I shake silly? Seth or Jake? That alter ego is a secret.”

“Seth mentioned it and accidentally.” He winced. “He was telling me how good your work is and how proud he was of you last year in Paris when you could be Sally because you knew you wouldn’t be recognized.”

Unexpected warmth filled her. It surprised her that her brother bragged about her, but it surprised her even more that Trent remembered something from a year ago. Some years Pierre forgot her birthday. He never remembered her showings, and even if he did remember to come, he wouldn’t be able to recall what had happened an entire year later.

“I do remember how much fun I had that weekend.” There had been an after-party where she’d danced and danced with Avery and Harper.

He smiled. “Then let’s go dance.”

She nodded as his argument sank in. Just as in Paris the year before, no one in Barcelona would know her. Why not have fun the way she had in Paris? There’d be no one to tell her mom if she looked just the tiniest bit unladylike in the shiny blue dress—

Except she didn’t feel unladylike.

She felt—

Actually, she felt young. Carefree—

A woman who was going to have a baby felt carefree?

She couldn’t explain it. But the reminder that she was a soon-to-be-mom about to go dancing didn’t make her unhappy. If anything, new joy filled her.

So, yeah. She was going dancing.

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