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have to play this game of chicken with Meredith. But Avery would definitely dig in her heels and she was a Lynhurst—that made her a treacherous opponent. He didn’t for a minute underestimate his sister’s vindictiveness or her strategic mind. He’d let her have the CEO position over his dead body. Meredith was his secret advantage and she owed him.
    Now he had to figure out how she could help.
    “This goes both ways, you know.” He flipped a hand between them. “I’m talking. You have to talk, too. Tell me why this divorce is so important.”
    She sighed and her expression blanked. It was wrong on her. Normally, her beautiful face glowed with expressiveness and he was a little sorry he’d brought up the question. But not entirely. She’d been trying to weasel out of spilling this information for too long.
    “You have a dream and so do I,” she said and it was clear she was choosing her words carefully. “I’ve been advised that in order to pursue mine, it would be beneficial to have my affairs in order. Correction—affair. I have no interest in being married. To you, or anyone. So sign the papers and everyone wins.”
    Now he was thoroughly intrigued, especially because he’d never in a million years label the reuniting of Lynhurst as a dream. It was a fact. “What’s your dream, Meredith? Tell me.”
    “Why?” she asked suspiciously. “More leverage?”
    Oh, yeah, she was no dummy. And that turned him on as much as everything else in her full package. More maybe. The fact that she was so savvy about his motivation changed it instantly. “No, because I’m curious. My mouth has been between your legs. That gives me special rights to know what’s between your ears, too.”
    Her long, slow smile blew the blank expression away. Better. And worse.
    “You win. But only because that’s a great point and I happen to like it.” She retrieved another beer and handed him a second, as well, then settled into her chair.
    He tapped the longneck. “Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?”
    She snorted. “Honey, I don’t need alcohol for that.”
    Unfortunately, she might be right. All the more reason to nail down an agreement about their future interaction—which would be minimal. “So I made a great point. You liked it. Spill your beans.”
    “I’m buying into my sister’s wedding-dress business.” And then she clammed up with a show of drinking her beer.
    There was more. He could sense it beneath the surface. “Seems like being married might be a bonus for that line of work.”
    “It’s not, okay? Not this way.” She shook her head. “I can’t tell my family I did tequila shots in Vegas and wound up married to some guy. They’d never take me seriously again.”
    As he thoroughly and uniquely understood the sentiment, he grinned. “You make it sound tawdry. You can’t tell them we fell in love?”
    “Please. You can’t even say that with a straight face and neither could I. They’d wonder why we haven’t had any contact in two years, for one thing.”
    “Now that you mention it, I’m curious. Did you ever think about looking me up?”
    He had briefly entertained the idea of contacting her on the plane home but then dismissed it as he hashed through mental plans about what it would take to get Lynhurst Enterprises back together. Besides, no one could be involved with Meredith long-term; the idea was ludicrous. She wasn’t the kind of woman you settled down with. She was too lush, too distracting, too...everything. She’d compelled him to make stupid decisions without even opening her mouth.
    He’d known then she’d spell disaster for his plans. Regrettably, he’d underestimated how catastrophic she’d ultimately be.
    “Not once.” Casually, she lifted the beer to her lips. Too casually, and he saw the guilt in the depths of her eyes. But why she’d lie was a mystery. “We agreed to part ways in Vegas. The Grown-Up Pact wasn’t about actually staying married,