Page 33 of Perfect Persuasion (Love’s Second Chance #2)

Undoubtedly, the man had several hanging after him at any given moment and wouldn’t have to worry about a world without women any time soon.

“Me neither,” Trevor said softly, giving Sophie a look of naked adoration.

God, Claire didn’t think there had ever been a time when anyone looked at her like that, let alone her husband. Not to mention the father of her child.

Sophie and Trevor disappeared from the kitchen, leaving Claire alone with Marcus.

“It’s almost disgusting, isn’t it?” Marcus asked, cutting into Claire’s thoughts.

Her gaze flew to him. “What is?”

Marcus shot her a smirk as he bent to cut open a box with the scissors Sophie had left behind. “Our little love birds. What else?”

Claire’s smiled turned wry. “All these boxes, maybe?”

“That too.” He pulled out some drinking glasses and began stocking the cabinet behind him. “At least I just brought in the last of them.”

“Small favors,” Claire said, bending down to unpack some dinner plates.

“I told Trevor he’s used up his one free move,” Marcus murmured.

She raised a brow. “His one free move?”

Marcus nodded, a glint sparking in his eyes. “Each friend gets one free move at the beginning of a friendship. If they move more than once, they owe you something.”

Claire laughed at that. “Like what?”

He thought for a moment. “Free beer. Maybe a favor. Depends on how much of a pain in the ass the second move is.”

She sighed, thinking of a frosty bottle of Corona with lime jammed in the neck. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a beer.”

Marcus gave a shout of laughter, eying her from head to toe. “You drink beer?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical.” She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “Of course I do.”

He grinned. “You just don’t look like the type, I guess.”

She patted her belly. “Give me some time and then you can take me out and I’ll prove it to you.”

Marcus turned serious, his gaze becoming intense on hers. “I’d like to take you out a lot sooner than that.”

Claire’s stomach dropped. What? Had he just said he wanted to go out with her? A pregnant, not-quite-divorced woman he barely knew?

Marcus laughed softly. “Don’t look so surprised. I figure I can use all the friends I can get. I like you. Don’t look at me like that. Sophie told me about everything.”

“Did she tell you about the baby’s father?” Claire asked, not wanting to mislead him in any way.

He nodded, crossing the room to stand before her. “From what I hear, he’s a real asshole.”

A laugh she couldn’t quite squelch left her lips. “That’s one way to describe him.”

A strand of hair came loose from her ponytail and Marcus reached out to tuck it behind her ear. The pleasant scent of his aftershave teased her senses. His fingers brushed against her jaw so fleetingly she might have imagined it.

She saw a flicker of awareness in his eyes and realized that the impossible was happening. This man might actually be attracted to her. To five months pregnant, no makeup on at all, life an utter mess Claire Morton. Impossible. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. It was too soon.

Marcus tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, stepping back abruptly as though sensing her discomfort. A crooked grin tugged at his lips. “So what do you say to lunch? Take me away from all this.”

“Lunch?” she echoed stupidly.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” He winked, looking boyishly charming and utterly irresistible. “Falls between breakfast and supper. You eat it?”

“Very funny.” She tapped him lightly on the arm, noticing how firm it was beneath his long-sleeve shirt. “I know what lunch is, Marcus. I just didn’t know if I should sneak out on Trevor and Sophie.”

Marcus shot her a look. “Believe me. They won’t be coming out of that bedroom for, oh, I’d say a good hour, hour and a half. They’ll never even know the difference.”

“Marcus.”

He shrugged, putting on a mask of innocence. “What? I meant that it will take them that long to decide where the furniture should go. What did you think I meant?”

She bit her lip, aware that she was blushing furiously, as ridiculous as that seemed. The man had a certain knowing way of looking at a woman that reduced her to a stammering, blushing tween.

Marcus wagged a finger at her. “Naughty mind. Very naughty mind. I’m shocked, in fact.”

“Ha.” Claire found her tongue. “I find it hard to believe anything would shock you.”

He raised a brow at her. “Is that a challenge?”

She was instantly wary. “No.”

“I think it was.” He shook his head. “No backing out of it now.”

“I can hardly back out of a challenge if there was no challenge to begin with,” she pointed out dryly.

“Ah,” he said quickly, “but there was one. I distinctly heard it. Now you have to try to shock me.”

She gave him a measuring stare. “I don’t think I could.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You might be surprised.”

“All right,” she decided, feeling bold. “I’ll go to lunch with you.”

He winked. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

Claire sent him a look. “I’m sure most women do.”

They had lunch at a quaint little café not fifteen minutes from Sophie and Trevor’s house.

Marcus drove them, since he claimed he wanted to familiarize himself with the area more.

Now that Sophie and Trevor had taken up permanent residence here in rural Pennsylvania, Marcus would have to make the nearly three-hour drive here from New York City fairly often.

Claire sat across from him now, toying with the grilled chicken on her plate. She’d initially been starved, but the baby had shifted, making her stomach get awfully small awfully quickly. It felt as if there was no room. She sipped at her lemonade and considered Marcus.

“So what do you think of Pennsylvania?” she asked. “It must seem terribly boring for you.”

Marcus paused in the midst of cutting his steak. “It’s not bad. I’m actually starting to like it, I think.”

“Really?”

One black brow rose. “If this is your attempt at shocking conversation, Claire, I have to say I’m rather disappointed.”

“I never agreed to your silly little stipulation,” she reminded him pointedly.

“I’m wounded.” The look he sent her of jaded amusement said he was anything but. “You should know that nothing I have is silly. Or little, for that matter.”

She laughed at his outrageousness. “You’re going to make me blush again.”

He cocked his head to one side and considered her. “God, I hope so. You get this really adorable look on your face when you blush.”

Adorable? The man thought she was adorable?

She sighed. If only she’d found a man like Marcus instead of a difficult, emotionally challenged, arrogant man like Logan.

“Well?” Marcus gave her an expectant look.

“Well, what?” Claire asked, dumbfounded.

“I’m waiting for the shocking talk.” He flashed her a dazzling smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to be a chicken.”

“I had chicken for lunch,” she reasoned. “I might as well be one.”

“And you aren’t even finishing it,” he observed. “Is there something wrong with it? I know you can’t possibly be full. I’ve seen your sister in action.”

“Believe it or not, I am. The baby’s squishing my stomach.”

“Rude of him. Or her. Do you know if the baby is a boy or a girl?” he asked, looking genuinely interested.

She shook her head. “The doctor asked if we wanted to know at my last checkup, and we decided we didn’t. I like the idea of a surprise.”

“So the baby’s father is involved in the pregnancy then?” Marcus took a sip of his drink as he awaited her answer.

Claire considered her answer. “Sort of. He and I tried to make things work, but…I don’t know. I think we’re too different. Basically at this point, he comes to my doctor appointments.”

“I hope I’m not prying.” Marcus looked chagrined. “Trevor always tells me I’m too damn curious for my own good. Feel free to tell me to stuff it and get lost at any time.”

“Not at all,” Claire assured him. Talking with Marcus felt natural, not at all forced. She liked him very much, in fact. “My life is hardly a secret.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Ask me anything you’d like.”

“Okay.” She paused and racked her brain. “How is the gallery?” Marcus co-owned a New York art gallery with Trevor, but these days, Marcus did most of the managing. Trevor only ventured to the city once or twice a week.

He gave her a pointed look. “That’s not a very personal question.”

“But one I want to know the answer to.”

“It’s doing well. Your sister’s paintings are still wildly popular. We can’t keep them on the walls. Other than that, it’s fairly boring. We have the usual clientele, interior decorators, hyphenated society people. You know the drill.”

“Hyphenated society people?” Claire couldn’t resist asking.

Marcus nodded, chewing a mouthful of steak before continuing. “People with old money and hyphenated names.”

Claire laughed. “I see.”

“Aha. You’re getting that glazed-over look in your eyes.” He made a show of peering intently into her face. “I told you my work is boring. You’re about to take a nap right here at the table. Next question.”

Next question? Well, the man certainly had honed demanding into an art form. He was second only to Logan.

Damn. She’d promised herself to stop thinking about Logan. That had to have been at least the fourth time she’d thought of him today.

“Hmm.” She forced her mind back to the task at hand. “Have you ever been married?”

Marcus seemed mildly surprised by the question. “Never had the pleasure. I’ve been in more than my fair share of weddings, but never as the groom. I’m also currently single, totally unattached. Well, except for Arnold, but he doesn’t really count.”

Claire couldn’t help it. She had to ask. “Arnold?”

“My pet beta fish.” He held up a hand. “I know, I know. I don’t look like a pet beta fish kind of man. I’m not either. A friend of mine gave me the damn thing and I can’t bring myself to flush him.”

“A girlfriend?” she guessed.

He nodded, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. “How’d you guess?”

Her lips twitched, but she managed to stifle her laughter. “I don’t think guys usually give each other pet beta fishes.”

“They don’t.” Marcus scowled. “She thought I was commitment phobic. Said it would help if I had something else to take care of.”

“And are you commitment phobic?” She was curious.

“No.” His tone was offended. “Of course not. Not with all women, anyway. Just with some.”

“Ah.” She did laugh then, unable to contain it any longer. “Selective commitment phobia?”

“You got it.” He raised his glass of lemonade to her in mock salute. “I’ll always drink to a smart woman.”

“I don’t know that I’d fit into that class at this point,” Claire told him wryly. “My life is proof of that.”

“We all do things we regret. You’re being too hard on yourself.”

She didn’t think she was. She could have done a great deal of things differently.

Better. Like not sleeping with Logan. Of course, if she’d never slept with Logan, she wouldn’t be pregnant now.

Despite everything, she was looking forward to her baby’s arrival.

Its conception was one thing she would never regret, Logan or no.

“It’s not that I regret the baby,” she hastened to add. “I can’t wait for him or her to be born. But sometimes I wish I had better circumstances to offer her. Or him.”

Claire had begun to think of the baby as a girl recently—maybe because she’d begun having dreams in which she held a baby wearing pink booties.

She didn’t know. But what she did know was that she could not bear to let Baby Thumper, as Derek had begun calling him or her, down in any way.

She wanted to give the baby the best life possible and the most loving, stable environment she could.

“You’ll be a good mother, Claire,” Marcus said softly, reassuringly.

She looked up, startled by his perceptiveness. “How do you know?”

“It’s in your eyes, in your voice.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his.

His grip was warm and comforting, a stable lifeline in the storm-tossed sea that had become her life.

She looked at Marcus’ hand covering hers, glad for his presence and for his understanding.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears choking her throat.

“That means a lot to me.” Claire sniffed, trying to hold back the good cry she felt coming on.

He squeezed her hand gently, then released it. “Hey, I’m not that much of a pain in the ass. No matter what Trevor tells you.”

“No,” she agreed, swiping at the lone tear that clung to her lashes, “you’re not. Not that Trevor ever said you were, of course.”

Marcus threw back his head with a bark of laughter. “You’re a terrible liar. But I’ll forgive you if you order some dessert.”

Hmm. Dessert. Claire’s stomach rumbled at the prospect, suddenly eager for food once more. An image of a creamy chocolate cake loomed in her mind. She sent him a sly smile. “I think I might have room for that after all.”