Yours for the Taking Read Free Page A

and motioned to the food. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
    Ben shrugged. “I said I’d feed you. We’re having salade nicoise with tuna steak for dinner.”
    “Sounds wonderful.”
    Ben held up his glass to toast. “To a very profitable business relationship.”
    Gina clinked her glass against his and took a sip all the while eyeing him. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
    The kitchen timer went off and Ben held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” He strode to the kitchen, pulled out the tarts, and with all the speed of a seasoned chef, placed them on the serving platter. When he returned, Gina walked back to him from studying another piece in his collection. He took a deep breath and began. “My grandfather is Joe Walsh. Ring any bells?”
    “I’ve heard the name before, but I can’t place it.” She picked up a piece of cheese from the tray and nibbled.
    “He’s probably the richest man in Idaho. Last I checked he was on the Forbes List above Donald Trump, Stephen Spielberg, and T. Boone Pickens.”
    “That’s nice for you.” Sitting on the couch, Gina crossed her legs, and looked bored. “What does this have to do with the business venture?”
    Ben took a hot tart—the irony didn’t escape him—and popped it in his mouth. The air-light pastry melted as the savory flavors melded together to perfection. “My grandfather owns more leased land than anyone in the United States. He owns the one piece I want. It’s the ranch in Idaho where my parents and I lived before their deaths.”
    “I’m sorry to hear about your parents.”
    “Thanks, but it was a long time ago.”
    Gina leaned forward to inspect the food. “What are those?”
    “Spinach, leek, and goat cheese tarts.”
    “They look like something they have at that great market.” She snapped her fingers. “I think it’s called Grace’s. Do you know it? It’s on East 71st between 2nd and 3rd.”
    He sat on the other side of the couch. “Thanks, but I didn’t get the tarts there.”
    “Where? That shop on 32nd?”
    “No. I made them.”
    She took a bite and covered her mouth with a napkin. “You’re kidding,” she said around a mouth full of food.
    Ben grinned at her shocked look. “No, why?”
    With a wave of her hand, Gina continued. “Never mind, go on with your story.” She took another bite of a tart and moaned. “These are amazing.”
    Ben wished she’d stop moaning; it was distracting. “I’m glad you like them.” He took another sip of his drink. “Gina, have you ever wanted something so badly you’d do just about anything to get it?”
    “No.” She was serious.
    “Nothing?”
    “Not badly enough to do anything.” She studied her nails before gazing at him. “I have my standards.”
    He moved closer and looked her straight in the eye. “What is the one thing in the world you’ve always wanted and haven’t been able to get?”
    “A home. I want to own my own home. I want it bought and paid for, so that no one can take it away.” Gina covered her mouth, either to keep from saying more or in an attempt to catch the words that had escaped. She stood and paced the room. “In a few years, I’ll have enough money for a nice down payment. If all goes according to my plan, I’ll own it outright in twenty years. That’s my goal, anyway.”
    Ben got the feeling she wasn’t telling him everything, not that he’d expect someone he hardly knew to spill her guts, but she seemed more evasive than most. Nonetheless, he had no choice but to work with what little information she gave him. “What kind of home?”
    Turning to face him, she crossed her arms under her breasts, which did nothing for his concentration. “Why do you want to know?”
    He raised his hands. “I didn’t know your choice of home was a national secret. Do I need a security clearance?”
    She seemed to dig for patience. “That’s personal.”
    “If we’re going to be in business together, I’ll need to know personal information.