Reeves stared into the mug of cooling cider and looked for some element of truth in the undissolved powder that settled on the bottom of the cup. They must have different definitions of the term. First, he’d given her a hard time, followed by a meaningless box of chocolates and a thank-you card, for Valentine’s, no less. Then he’d given her a database of job prospects and a cup of powdered apple cider. Yeah, he was smooth, all right. Marissa had not found him charming, at least not once they’d wed. She had called him dull and cold and unimaginative, while explaining that she needed a “real” man to make her feel like a woman. What did Anna need? he wondered. What did Anna want? He was pretty sure about one thing. She did not seem to look at his Chatam connections and see dollar signs. He suspected that was the only reason Marissa had married him. She had been so disappointed to realize that he would likely never see a nickel of the Chatam millions. He suspected that his own mother had blown her inheritance ages ago, and even if she had not, he had three siblings in direct line for that money.
