Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(2)

“A tattoo it is, then.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline.

“Really? Of what?” The disbelief was evident in my tone.

She hesitated a moment before answering, “A fleur de lis.” She held up her fingers to indicate the size. “Right here.” She pointed to her hipbone.

“No shit?”

“No shit.” A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth when she echoed me, but I beat it back. She was here because she wanted something from me. Badly enough that she was willing to let me get her partially naked and under my tattoo gun to accomplish it.

Interesting.

“Then follow me, sweetheart.” I led her back to my room and pulled the door shut.

She moved to sit, but I stopped her. I wanted to see just how committed she was to whatever the hell had brought her here. “Drop your skirt first.”

Her head jerked up. Yeah, I figured that’d get your attention, princess. “Are you serious?”

“You expect me to give you a tat through your clothes? Even I’m not that good.”

Those vivid blue eyes turned to ice. “Fine. But you have to listen to what I have to say.”

“Fair enough. You lose the skirt, I’ll listen.” Didn’t mean she’d get what she came for, but I could at least listen if it got her clothes off. Jesus, I’m pathetic. Bargaining for her to get naked? With most other women, all I had to say was strip, and the clothes hit the floor right before the female in question hit her knees. I wasn’t vain, but even I knew that being six-four, covered in tats, and built like a brawler had an effect on the ladies.

I forced myself to turn away and grab my gear. The rest of the blood in my head went south with the delicate hiss of her zipper. Fractured images of her naked and bent over my bed, ass blushing red from where I hadn’t been able to stop myself from smacking it, rushed through me. I just didn’t know if they were memories or fantasies.

Fuck. I’d never be able to give her this tat with a hard-on the size of a goddamn redwood.

I glanced over my shoulder, unable to resist getting a look at what she’d uncovered. But the slice of skin exposed between her skirt and jacket wasn’t the nakedness I’d envisioned.

And the words that came next doused my libido.

“I need you to donate a piece of property you own, through your parents’ trust, to the L.R. Bennett Foundation.”

I crushed my fist closed around the alcohol prep pads to keep them from scattering to the floor. So that’s what brought her here. Should’ve figured. Think Bill Gates’ foundation, and then scale it back a few billion, and you had the L.R. Bennett Foundation. The top of the heap of New Orleans do-gooders. And founded and run by Vanessa’s mother’s people.

My anger, which had already been steadily bubbling since she’d walked through the door, rose hot and fast.

“You came here to ask me for money.” I needed to hear her say it again.

She shook her head, and not a single strand of hair moved from her perfect style. That perfection was like fuel to the fire.

“No, not money. Land. Your parents’ trust owns a piece of property next to several lots owned by the foundation. But there was some sort of legal mistake in our deed, and it says the foundation owns part of your lot as well. It’s never been an issue before, because all the buildings there are empty. But, as you might have heard, the foundation is launching a building project there for our new headquarters and a nonprofit incubator. The architect designed the plans assuming we owned all the property and not just part of it.” She stared at her clasped hands as she explained.

“If it’s a legal problem, then get a lawyer.”

Vanessa looked up at me. “I don’t have time to go through the proper channels. That would take months. I already have a demolition scheduled.”

“So make me an offer to buy it.”

She bit her lip. “I’ll blow my budget. Just like I’ll blow my budget if the architect has to redraw the plans.” Frustration tinged every word when she added, “Trust me, I wouldn’t be here asking for your help if I’d been able to come up with an alternative.”

At least she’s honest, I thought. “And you think I’d help you out… why?”

She stiffened as though readying herself to deliver a rehearsed speech. Which probably wasn’t far off the mark.

“Because, despite your reputation, I think you actually care about the wellbeing of this community, and our building project is going to help propel New Orleans. Forget the headquarters part for a minute. The section of the building that extends onto your lot is going to be used to house new nonprofit organizations that are getting off the ground. We’re doing this to make a difference. Right now, you’ve got a run-down building that’s going to cost you money to rehab or demolish, and this is a chance for you to donate it, take the tax write-off, lose the headache, and, here’s the bonus, you’ll know you’ve helped your community.”

Gritting my teeth, I reeled in my temper, which was about to jump its chain. “You’ve got balls of steel coming in here to ask me this. And not just because I could easily sell it to a developer for six figures.”

She broke our stare to look at the ground for a beat. “It’s not like this is easy for me, Con.” She glanced back up at me. “I need this, or my entire project is screwed.”