The Owner of His Heart by Theodora Taylor Page B

moved, and she believed him. He might not have been the nicest man on the planet, but he struck her as someone who kept his promises.
    However, just like she’d been dragging her feet about finding Andrew Sinclair, with only a month to go until her contracted eviction from Pittsburgh, she still hadn’t figured out where to settle down next. Part of her wanted to move as far away from Nathan as possible, while another part of her yearned for him to let her to stay, to forget about his stupid contract, and continue on as they were, perhaps even going as far as to fall in love—
    Layla pushed that thought out of her head. She couldn’t let her heart nudge her in that direction. As any simple Google search would tell you, Nathan Sinclair didn’t fall in love. He dated and ditched, and from what she could see, he had never had a relationship that lasted over a couple of months. Allowing herself to even think about the possibility of falling in love with him would lead to disaster. No, she decided the morning of their one-month “anniversary,” she needed to start planning for life after Nathan Sinclair, even if the thought of letting him go made her feel a bit weepy.
    She bullied herself into making a to-do list for her future move on the bus ride to work. And during her fifteen minute break, she used the smartphone Nathan had gifted her with a few days ago to research Savannah, Georgia, a hip, southern city that might appreciate a business as quaint as a physical therapy spa. But a call from Nathan himself interrupted her surfing.
    “Hi,” she said. “What do you think about Savannah for a physical therapy spa?”
    “I’d have to research the market a little further, but if we’re just speculating, it sounds fine.”
    “Well, then how about—”
    “What are you doing for lunch today?”
    The abrupt change of subject didn’t surprise Layla. As their time together decreased, so had Nathan’s willingness to talk about her move, even though he was the one who had forced it on her. “I was just planning to grab a sandwich from the vending machine.”
    “How about coming downtown and having your sandwich here? I’ll have Kate order something for us.”
    “You’re inviting me to lunch?” she asked. He’d joined her in Shadyside once or twice, but had never invited her downtown.
    “I’m inviting you to lunch,” he said. “You know, I never did get to have you bent over my desk. I think you owe me a position.”
    Her cheeks heated remembering the first time they’d had sex. But then she realized, “There’s no way I could get downtown on a bus and get all the way back here in time to start my shift.”
    “Oh, I’ve already taken care of that. Go to the parking lot.”
    “Did you send a car service again?” she asked, walking toward the lobby and out the glass doors. “My lunch hour doesn’t start until one today.”
    “Do you see a red Mini?”
    Layla found said red Mini in one of the closer parking spaces, gleaming under the August sun. It still had its dealer’s plates. Her heart stopped. “You didn’t…”
    “I’m sick of you using that ‘no car’ excuse to squirm out of anything you don’t want to do.”
    Layla ran out to look at the car, which happened to be exactly the one she had always dreamed of owning.
    “I’ve never used not having a car as an excuse. I’d love to have lunch with you, but I can’t possibly take a car from you. It’s bad enough that you got me the new phone, because you said you wanted me to be accessible by email. Now you’re buying me a car?” But even as she said this, her eyes ran greedily over the delectable vehicle. She’d always had a thing for Minis. “A really nice car.”
    “Layla, do you seriously want to fight me on this? Haven’t I proven how hard I am to say no to yet? What else do I have to do?”
    He made it sound like he was the aggrieved party here, and Layla was just being difficult.
    “Don’t be difficult,” he said, echoing her