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he were actually awaiting a reply. Not that she had one to give him. Although she was finally beginning to understand what had brought him back to Chicago—kind of—she wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. Certainly Peyton Moss hadn’t been bred to be a gentleman. That didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of becoming one. Eventually. Under the right tutelage. Which even Ava was having a hard time trying to imagine.
    When she said nothing, he added quietly, “But you wanna hear the real kicker?”
    She did, actually—more than she probably should admit.
    “The real kicker is that they think I should pick up a wife while I’m here. They’ve even set me up with one of those millionaire matchmakers who’s supposed to introduce me to—” he took a deep breath and released it slowly, as if he were about to reveal something of great importance “—the right kind of woman.”
    Ava’s first reaction was an odd sort of relief that he wasn’t already in a committed relationship. Her second reaction was an even odder disappointment that that was about to change. There was just something about the thought of Peyton being introduced to the “right kind of woman”—meaning, presumably, the kind of woman she herself was supposed to have grown up to be—that did something funny to her insides.
    He added, “They think the Montgomery sisters might look more favorably at their family business being appropriated by another family than they would having it go to a coldhearted single guy like me.” He smiled grimly. “So to finally answer your question, Ava, I’m back in Chicago to erase all evidence of my embarrassing, low-life past and learn to be a gentleman in polite society. And I’m supposed to find a nice society girl who will give me an added aura of respectability.”
    Ava couldn’t quite keep the flatness from her voice when she replied, “Well, then. I hope you, in that society, with that nice society girl, will be very happy.”
    “Aw, whatsamatter, Ava?” he asked in the same cool tone. “Can’t stand the fact that you and I are now social and financial equals?”
    “Peyton, that’s not—”
    “Yeah, there goes the neighborhood.”
    “Peyton, I didn’t mean—”
    “Once you start letting in the riffraff, the whole place goes to hell, doesn’t it?”
    Ava stopped trying to explain or apologize, since he clearly wasn’t going to let her do either. What was funny—or would have been, had it not been so biting—was that they actually weren’t social and financial equals. Ava was so far below him on both ladders, she wouldn’t even be hit by the loose change spilling out of his pockets.
    “So what about you?” he asked.
    The change of subject jarred her. “What about me?”
    “What are you doing now? I remember you wanted to go to Wellesley. You were going to major in art or something.”
    She couldn’t believe he remembered her top college choice. She’d almost forgotten it herself. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about things like that once the family fortune evaporated. Although Ava had been smart, she’d been a lazy student. Why worry about grades when she had parents with enough money and connections to ensure admission into any school she wanted? The only reason she’d been accepted at her tony private school in Milwaukee was that she’d tested so high on its entry exam.
    How was she supposed to tell Peyton she’d ended up studying business at a community college? Not that she hadn’t received a fine education, but it was a far cry from the hallowed halls of academia for which she’d originally aimed.
    “English,” she said evasively. “I wanted to major in English.”
    He nodded. “Right. So where’d you end up going?”
    “Wisconsin,” she said, being deliberately vague. Let him think she was talking about the university, not the state.
    He arched his brows in surprise. “University of Wisconsin? Interesting choice.”
    “The University of Wisconsin has an