“Liam is taming our willful friend.”

They shared a laugh and hung up with the promise of seeing each other later in the day.

She set her cell phone in her lap, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.

Slowly her body melted into the chaise lounge. Normally she’d feel a little guilty about having nothing to do during the middle of the day and move to try to change that. But since Tulum, she didn’t feel the drive.

Not for the first time that day, her thoughts shifted to Victor. What was he doing? At work, of course . . . but what did that look like?

She brought up the thread of texting he’d managed to sneak in since they parted in Mexico. Basically it was a series of numbers followed by something snarky from her.

The day after he’d called her, he sent a text. 74 Days

She replied with a rolling-eye emoji.

73

Are you going to ping me every day? she’d texted back.

Maybe.

And he did, until day sixty-seven. Much as Shannon hated herself for looking forward to his attention, she couldn’t deny the fact that she looked at her phone several times . . . waiting.

He caught up on day sixty-five by texting 65.5 and then a few hours later, 65.

Now they were on day sixty-two. It had been nearly a month since she’d seen him, a month since she and Avery were in Tulum. It dawned on her at that moment that she was once again entering her fertile time of the month. Maybe that was why she was finding herself looking for more attention from the only man on her radar.

She hadn’t initiated contact once with him. She only responded.

Shannon tapped her finger on the side of her phone . . . what would it hurt?

Victor sat across from Ray, his personal finance manager, and Manny, his accountant. Victor’s quarterly estimates were fanned out in front of them.

“I think it’s time you start diversifying, Victor,” Ray said.

“Projections for expansion aren’t looking favorable this year.” Besides, he already had three operating plants on the West Coast, two on the East Coast, and a hub in Texas and another in Michigan.

“He isn’t suggesting expansion. More like new ventures. Men with your wealth do things like buy newspapers or become partners in football teams.”

Victor laughed. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about owning anything like that.”

“You understand business. You don’t have to run a newspaper to own one. Racehorses on the track are never ridden by their owners.”

“You want me to buy racehorses?”

Ray sat forward. “I want you to consider something, anything, that makes money. Yes, I can continue to roll your money in the market like I’ve been doing for years. You own several pieces of property, all tied into the business. Let me play the devil’s advocate here. What happens if the scrap metal business starts to tank?”

“That isn’t going to happen. There will always be recycling of scrap.”

“You said yourself that exports are down. Projections are steady, but they aren’t rising like they have in the recent past, right?” Manny asked.

“I’m not closing any doors,” Victor told them.

“What if China stopped needing our resources, or war broke out and halted trade? Those are things that aren’t in your control and would affect Victor Brooks’s bottom line. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t suggest diversifying now, when you have the money and energy to take on new things. Would it hurt to consider other avenues without giving up this one?” Ray asked.

Victor leaned back in his chair and picked up the summary statement of his market investments. “Where would I start?”

Manny started packing away the papers he came into the office with. “Start with something that interests you. You have a team here for acquisitions and mergers, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Hand them a new task.”

Victor had stood to let the men out when his cell phone buzzed on his desk, catching his attention. He looked briefly at the text that flashed on the home screen.

62

He stared at his phone. What is . . .

Shannon.

His heart did a rapid thud in his chest, his lips spread into a grin. The woman had finally texted him.

“We’ll see you in three months.” Manny’s words snapped Victor out of his thoughts and back into his office.

He reached out, shook their hands, and walked them to the door. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

Victor snatched his phone and dialed Shannon’s number the second he was alone.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, Victor.”

He liked hearing his name from her lips.

“Good afternoon.”

“You didn’t have to call me.”

“Yes, I did.” He crossed to the window of his office and looked out over the skyline. “We don’t really have to wait sixty-two days.”

“Three months. That was the agreement.”

Victor scratched his head. The image of her with her head tilted back and the moonlight on her freshly kissed face reappeared from his memory. “I think of you. All the time.”

“That sounds distracting,” she said, a lift in her voice as if pleased to hear his confession.

“Terribly. My assistant keeps shooting me strange looks.”

“They probably think you’re reflecting on your relationship with Corrie.”

Hearing Shannon say Corrie’s name so effortlessly made him pause. “Even Mr. Clueless knows that talking about an ex with someone new in your life is frowned upon.”

There was silence for a breath. “When did I slip and call you Mr. Clueless to your face?”

He smiled. “I don’t know, but I didn’t pull that title out of the air.”

She sighed. “Well, in this case, Mr. Clueless, I think talking about your ex is important. It’s only been a month since everything blew up. Waiting three months is all about your reflection on Corrie and working through whatever emotions you’re dealing with.”

He knew she was right. Even if he didn’t feel any pressing emotions. “Do you really want to hear my thoughts and dealings with her?”

Silence again.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“No, wait. I was there when it happened, the breakup, anyway. I’d rather we have conversations about her now, when it’s expected that she’d be on your mind, than two months from now.”

“That means we would have to have conversations that were more than a number texted on the phone,” he told her. He liked the idea of hearing her voice instead of having to pull it from memory.

“I don’t know—”

“I want to be transparent. You asked that I don’t play you, which means you’ve been played before. I’ve thought about that statement a lot in the past month.”

When she spoke again, her voice had changed. “No one likes to feel used.”

“Was it your ex-husband?” he asked.

His question was met with silence.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, wait . . . if you can talk about Corrie this early, I will discuss Paul.”

He waited.

“He didn’t care for me the way I did him.”

“But you were married.”

He heard her sigh.

“When was the last time a single man was elected to the governor’s seat?”

He scratched his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s happened at some point.”

“Three times in the state of California. That’s it.”

“Are you saying—”

“I knew Paul wasn’t emotionally connected when our marriage started, Victor. But once we were there, and we spent more time together, he made me feel as if nothing would break us apart.”

“What did?” As soon as he asked the question he wanted to pull it back.

“Nothing catastrophic. He was busy being the governor; I was busy pretending to be the perfect wife in our cookie-cutter life. He asked for a divorce and I gave it to him.”

Victor couldn’t see anyone letting Shannon go that easily.

“This happened after he was elected.”

“Obviously.”

Paul used her to get elected. Dumped her once he was.

“I won’t use you, Shannon. I want to shed the title of clueless, but I might need some help learning how. I took your advice with my staff, and everyone is more relaxed around here. Before you, I would have ignored what everyone was thinking until it went away.”

“I’m glad it all worked out. But don’t give me credit. Your experience with Corrie had to help you realize what happens when you push problems aside.”

He started to argue her point and stopped. Victor hadn’t considered what he took from Corrie running away the way she did, but maybe Shannon was right. He’d been shocked that she’d taken off and oblivious as to why . . . until Shannon pointed out his faults.

“What makes you so wise?” he asked.

“I’m observant. Part of my profession as a photographer. I watch while others do.”

The phone on his desk rang. “My phone is—”

“I hear it. Go.”

It rang again.

He wanted to say something to make her understand what he felt just talking to her. “I’m going to call you again.”