“What? No!” he said hastily.
“Because let me assure you, I had the means to hire one of the best hacking teams available. Not that I needed it. It’s not like a sperm bank’s database is the Pentagon. They were in and out without a trace, and there certainly isn’t any evidence leading to me.”
“That’s not what I was trying to—”
“Also, that tech team is also backed up by an impressive legal team. If you were trying to tattle—”
“For God’s sake, Chantelle. This isn’t a shakedown! I’m not interested in threatening you. You came to me, remember?”
She looked as surprised as he felt. He’d said her name out loud, held it in his mouth, and discovered he liked it there.
He took a deep breath. Might as well get on with it. “Are you still looking for a husband?”
She seemed as keen as he was to get down to business. Defiant, even. “Yes.”
“And you are convinced that marriage is the only way to solve your issue? Whatever that is.”
Her lips twisted a little. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“And you’ve found no other suitable candidates?”
Over her shoulder, he noticed Bea standing there, platters balanced in her hands. Without a word, she delicately set them down, giving Chantelle an appraising look, taking in her tailored clothing, expensive jewelry, and careful makeup. Dustin knew he would catch hell from her about his mystery “date” later.
Chantelle waited until she was gone to respond. “No. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and for my benefit, it would be more appropriate to marry my baby’s biological father. Which is why I sought you out in the first place.”
“Okay,” he said, giving in to the inevitable. “I’ve thought about it, and I have decided to accept your proposal… proposition. I’m not sure what to call it.”
A look of triumph flickered across her face, a return of that self-confidence she wore like a mantle. “I expected you’d come around.”
The note of smug victory in her tone annoyed him—but not enough to make him back out. This was too important. “What made you so sure?” he asked.
She shrugged, peering at the patatas bravas on the platter but not picking up a morsel. “Your financial situation is a bit precarious.”
“So apart from hacking into sperm bank records, I guess your people had a field day with my creditors?” he said dryly. Trying not to let his embarrassment show in the presence of such obvious wealth.
“Distasteful, sorry. But it was a means to an end.”
Figuring that was about as much remorse as he’d get out of her, he went on, “But I have certain conditions—”
“You haveconditions?”she exploded.
“I’m not the one desperate for a husband and breaking several laws just to walk into a stranger’s store dangling money in his face.”
She flushed hotly, and again, he was drawn to her coloring, the warmth of her skin and the flash of her eyes. “Go on, then.”
“First,” he said firmly, calmly leveraging what little negotiating advantage he had. “I want a guarantee that you are good for the money. I believe your price was one million dollars?”
She bristled. “What, do you think I can’t afford to pay you?”
“Unlike you, Chantelle, I don’t have a spy team at my disposal, able to come back to me with a detailed record of every nickel you possess, and how much you last spent on a mani-pedi. I don’t know you from Eve. How am I to know that this front you present, this patina of wealth, isn’t just that? How am I supposed to know that this isn’t some sort of massive scam?”
“To do what? Con you out of an over-mortgaged tattoo parlor and a ten-year-old car?”
He flinched, feeling himself redden. The fact that he was in a financial bind was one thing, but having it thrown in his face by a wealthy woman was emasculating and humiliating.
But he was here on a mission. If he had to get hit by a few arrows while dashing across enemy ground, so be it.
“I assure you I am good for it.” She folded her hands on the table. “Once you and I arrive at terms upon which we both agree, I can have the money in an escrow account by morning. So please proceed with your conditions.”