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The CEO’s Accidental Bride

Barbara Dunlop

Paper Marriage Proposition

Red Garnier

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The CEO’s Accidental Bride

Barbara Dunlop

“It only took us five minutes to get married, no reason why the divorce should take any longer.”

“Glad you see it that way.” He gave a sharp nod, and his hand went to the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, I’ll want to cover any inconvenience.” He extracted a gold pen and a brown leather check book, flipping open the cover and glancing at her. “A million?”

Kaitlin blinked in confusion. “A million what?”

He breathed a sigh of obvious impatience. “Dollars,” he stated. “Don’t play coy, Kaitlin. You and I both know this is going to cost me.”

Was he that desperate?

Wait a minute. Was he desperate?

Dear Reader,

I have a passion for historic buildings—big or small, opulent or plain. From the passageways of the Tower of London to the faded boards of a broken-down shed on a lonely prairie highway, I love to imagine who built a house, who walked its halls, who lived, who loved, and who might have died there all those years ago.

Billionaire Zach Harper is descended from pirates. His family castle, built on an island off the coast of New York, is a living museum and the centerpiece of his heritage. But when he accidentally marries architect Kaitlin Saville at a wild Vegas office party, everything is at risk.

I hope you enjoy Zach and Kaitlin’s story. I modeled the Harper family castle after the real life Craigdarroch Castle in Victoria, British Columbia. If you’re interested, there’s a link to the castle on my website.

Happy reading!

Barbara

www.barbaradunlop.com

About the Author

BARBARA DUNLOP writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canada’s far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website at www.barbaradunlop.com.

For my fabulous editor, Kathryn Lye

One

Zach Harper was the last person Kaitlin Saville expected to see standing in the hallway outside her apartment door. The tall, dark-haired, steel-eyed man was the reason she was packing her belongings, the reason she was giving up her rent-controlled apartment, the person who was forcing her to leave New York City.

Facing him, she folded her arms across her dusty blue Mets T-shirt, hoping her red eyes had faded from her earlier crying jag and that no tear streaks remained on her cheeks.

“We have a problem,” Zach stated, his voice crisp, and his expression detached. His left hand was clasped around a black leather briefcase.

He wore a Grant Hicks suit and a pressed, white shirt. His red tie was made of fine silk, and his cuff links were solid gold. As usual, his hair was freshly cut, face freshly shaved, and his shoes were polished to within an inch of their lives.

“We don’t have anything,” she told him, curling her toes into the cushy socks that covered her feet below the frayed hem of her faded jeans.

She was casual, not frumpy, she told herself. A woman had a right to be casual in her own home. Where Zach Harper had no right to be in her home at all. She started to close the door on him. But his hand shot out to brace it.

His hand was broad and tanned, with a strong wrist and tapered fingers. No rings, but a platinum Cartier watch with a diamond face. “I’m not joking, Kaitlin.”

“And I’m not laughing.” She couldn’t give one whit about any problem the high-and-mighty Zach Harper might encounter during his charmed life. The man not only got her fired, but he also had her blackballed from every architectural firm in New York City.

He glanced past her shoulder. “Can I come in?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment. “No.”

He might be master of his domain at Harper Transportation and at every major business function in Manhattan, but he did not have the right to see her messy place, especially the collection of lacy lingerie sitting under the window.

He clenched his jaw.

She set her own, standing her ground.

“It’s personal,” he persisted, hand shifting on the briefcase handle.

“We’re not friends,” she pointed out.

They were, in fact, enemies. Because that was what happened when one person ruined another person’s life. It didn’t matter that the first person was attractive, successful, intelligent and one heck of a good dancer. He’d lost all rights to … well, anything.

Zach squared his shoulders, then glanced both ways down the narrow corridor of the fifty-year-old building. The light was dim, the patterned carpets worn. Ten doors opened into this particular section of the fifth floor. Kaitlin’s apartment was at the end, next to a steel exit door and a fire alarm protected by a glass cover.

“Fine,” he told her. “We’ll do it out here.”

Oh, no, they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t do anything anywhere, ever again. She started to step back into the safety of her apartment.

“You remember that night in Vegas?” he asked.

His question stopped her cold.

She would never forget the Harper corporate party at the Bellagio three months ago. Along with the singers, dancers, jugglers and acrobats who had entertained the five-hundred-strong crowd of Harper Transportation’s high-end clients, there was a flamboyant Elvis impersonator who’d coaxed her and Zach from the dance floor to participate in a mock wedding.

At the time, it had seemed funny, in keeping with the lighthearted mood of the party. Of course, her sense of humor had been aided that night by several cranberry martinis. In hindsight, the event simply felt humiliating.

“The paper we signed?” Zach continued in the face of her silence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied to him.

In fact, she’d come across their mock wedding license just this morning. It was tucked into the lone, slim photo album that lived in her bottom dresser drawer beneath several pairs of blue jeans.

It was stupid to have kept the souvenir. But the glow from her evening on Zach’s arm had taken a few days to fade away. And at the time she’d put the marriage license away, those happy minutes on the dance floor had seemed somehow magical.

It was a ridiculous fantasy.

The man had destroyed her life the very next week.

Now, he drew a bracing breath. “It’s valid.”

She frowned at him. “Valid for what?”

“Marriage.”

Kaitlin didn’t respond. Was Zach actually suggesting they’d signed a real marriage license?

“Is this a joke?” she asked.

“Am I laughing?”

He wasn’t. But then he rarely laughed. He rarely joked, either. That night, she’d later learned, was quite the anomaly for him.

A cold feeling invaded her stomach.

“We’re married, Kaitlin,” he told her, steel eyes unflinching.

They were not married. It had been a lark. They’d been playacting up there on the stage.

“Elvis was licensed by the state of Nevada,” said Zach.

“We were drunk,” Kaitlin countered, refusing to believe such a preposterous claim.

“He filed a certificate.”

“How do you know that?” Her brain was revving into overdrive, calculating the possibilities and the potential consequences.

“Because my lawyers tell me so.” He gave a meaningful glance past her shoulder, into the apartment. “Can I please come in?”

She thought about her mystery novels covering the couch, the entertainment magazines that were sitting out on the coffee table, the credit card and bank statements in piles beside them, revealing her shopping habits for the past month. She remembered the telltale, half-eaten package of Sugar Bob’s doughnuts sitting out on the counter. And, of course, there was the box of sexy underwear on full display in the afternoon sunshine.

But, if he was telling the truth, it wasn’t something she could ignore.

She gritted her teeth and ordered herself to forget about his opinion. Who cared if he found out she had a weakness for Sugar Bob’s? In a matter of days, he’d be out of her life. She’d leave everything she’d ever known, start all over in another city, maybe Chicago or Los Angeles.

Her throat involuntarily tightened at the thought, and her tears threatened to freshen.

Kaitlin hated being uprooted. She’d started over so many times already, leaving security and normalcy behind as she moved from one childhood foster home to another. She’d been in this small apartment since she started college. And it was the only place that had ever felt remotely like home.

“Kaitlin?” he prompted.

She swallowed to clear the thick emotions from her throat. “Sure,” she told him with grim determination, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

As she shut the door, Zach took in the disarray of packing boxes littering the apartment. There wasn’t anywhere for him to sit down, and she didn’t offer to clear a chair. He wouldn’t be staying very long.

Though she tried to ignore it, her glance shifted involuntarily to the underwear box. Zach tracked her gaze, his resting on the mauve-and-white silk teddy her friend Lindsay had bought her for Christmas last year.

“Do you mind?” she snapped, marching over to pull the cardboard flaps shut.

“Not at all,” he muttered, and she thought she heard a trace of amusement in his tone.

He was laughing at her. Perfect.

The cardboard flaps sprang back open again, and she felt the unwelcome heat of a blush. She turned to face him, placing her body between Zach and her underwear.

Behind him, she spied the open box of Sugar Bob’s. Three of the doughnuts were missing, transferred from the white cardboard and cellophane container to her hips around nine this morning.

Zach didn’t appear to have an ounce of fat on his well-toned body. She’d be willing to bet his breakfast had consisted of fruit, whole grains and lean protein. It was probably whipped up by his personal chef, ingredients imported from France, or maybe Australia.

He perched his briefcase on top of a stack of DVDs on her end table and snapped open the latches. “I’ve had my lawyers draw up our divorce papers.”

“We need lawyers?” Kaitlin was still struggling to comprehend the idea of marriage.

To Zach.

Her brain wanted to go a hundred different directions with that inconceivable fact, but she firmly reined it in. He might be gorgeous, wealthy and intelligent, but he was also cold, calculating and dangerous. A woman would have to be crazy to marry him.

He swung open the lid of the briefcase. “In this instance, lawyers are a necessary evil.”

Kaitlin reflexively bristled at the stereotype. Her best friend, Lindsay, wasn’t the least bit evil.

For a second, she let herself imagine Lindsay’s reaction to this news. Lindsay would be shocked, obviously. Would she be worried? Angry? Would she laugh?

The whole situation was pretty absurd.

Kaitlin anchored her loose auburn hair behind her ears, reflexively tugging one beaded jade earring as a nervous humor bubbled up inside her. She cocked her head and waited until she had Zach’s attention. “I guess what happens in Vegas sometimes follows you home.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek, and it definitely wasn’t from amusement. She felt a perverse sense of satisfaction at having put him even slightly off balance.

“It would help if you took this seriously,” he told her.

“We were married by Elvis.” She clamped determinedly down on a spurt of nervous laughter.

Zach’s gray eyes flashed.

“Come on, Zach,” she cajoled. “You have to admit—”

He retrieved a manila envelope. “Just sign the papers, Kaitlin.”

But she wasn’t ready to give up the joke. “I guess this means no honeymoon?”

He stopped breathing for a beat, and there was something familiar about the way his gaze flicked to her lips.

She was struck by a sudden, vivid memory, instantly sobering her.

Had they kissed that night in Vegas?

Every once in a while, she had a fleeting image of his mouth on hers, the heat, the taste, the pressure of his full lips. She imagined that she could remember his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against his hard body, the two of them molding together as if they belonged.

In the past, she’d always chalked it up to a fevered dream, but now she wondered …

“Zach, did we—”

He cleared his throat. “Let’s try to stay on track.”

“Right.” She nodded, determinedly pushing the hazy image out of her mind. If she’d kissed him even once, it was the worst mistake of her life. She detested him now, and the sooner he disappeared, the better.

She reached out her hand and accepted the envelope. “It only took us five minutes to get married, no reason why the divorce should take any longer.”

“Glad you see it that way.” He gave a sharp nod, and his hand went to the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, I’ll want to cover any inconvenience.” He extracted a gold pen and a brown leather checkbook, flipped open the cover and glanced at her. “A million?”

Kaitlin blinked in confusion. “A million what?”

He breathed a sigh of obvious impatience. “Dollars,” he stated. “Don’t play coy, Kaitlin. You and I both know this is going to cost me.”

Her jaw involuntarily dropped a notch.

Was he crazy?

He waited expectantly.

Was he desperate?

Wait a minute. Was he desperate?

She gave her brain a little shake. She and Zach were husband and wife. At least in the eyes of the law. Clearly, she was a problem for him. She doubted the high-and-mighty Zach Harper ran into too many problems. At least, none that he couldn’t solve with that checkbook.

Huh.

Interesting.

This time, Kaitlin did chuckle, and tapped the stiff envelope against the tabletop. She certainly didn’t want Zach’s money, but she sure wouldn’t say no to a little payback. What woman would?

This divorce didn’t have to happen in the next five minutes. She’d be in New York for at least another couple of weeks. For once in his life, Mr. Harper could bloody well wait on someone else’s convenience.

She took a breath, focused her thoughts and tried to channel Lindsay. Lindsay was brilliant, and she’d know exactly what to do in this circumstance.

Then, the answer came to Kaitlin. She raised her brows in mock innocence. “Isn’t New York a joint property state?”

Zach looked confused, but then his eyes hardened to flints.

He was angry. Too bad.

“I don’t recall signing a prenup,” she added for good measure.

“You want more money,” he spoke in a flat tone.

All she really wanted was her career back.

“You got me fired,” she pointed out, feeling the need to voice the rationale for her obstinacy.

“All I did was cancel a contract,” he corrected.

“You had to know I’d be the scapegoat. Who in New York City is going to hire me now?”

His voice went staccato. “I did not like your renovation design.”

“I was trying to bring your building out of the 1930s.” The Harper Transportation building had infinite potential, but nobody had done anything to it for at least five decades.

He glared at her a moment longer. “Fine. Have it your way. I got you fired. I apologize. Now how much?”

He wasn’t the least bit sorry for having her fired. He didn’t care a single thing about her. The only reason he’d even remembered her name was because of the accidental marriage. And he’d probably had to look that up.

She squared her shoulders beneath the dusty T-shirt, determined to take this victory. “Give me one good reason why I should make your life easier?”

“Because you don’t want to be married any more than I do.”

He had a fair point there. The mere thought of being Zach Harper’s wife sent a distinct shiver coursing its way up her spine.

It was distaste. At least she was pretty sure the feeling was distaste. With any other man, she might mistake it for arousal.

“Mrs. Zach Harper.” She pretended to ponder, warming to her stubborn stance as she purposely slowed to note her half-packed apartment. “Don’t you have a roomy penthouse on Fifth Avenue?”

He clicked the end of his pen, slowly lowering it to his side. “Are you daring me to call your bluff?”

She cracked her first genuine smile in three months. He wouldn’t do it. Not in a million years. “Yeah,” she taunted boldly. “Go ahead. Call my buff.”

He stepped closer, and an annoying buzz of awareness tickled its way through her stomach. They stared each other down.

“Or you could leave the divorce papers,” she offered with mock sweetness. “I’ll have my lawyer read them over next week.”

“Two million,” he offered.

“Next week,” she retorted, trying not to show her shock at the exorbitant figure. “Summon up some patience, Zachary.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Katie.”

“I’m protecting my own interests,” she told him.

And there was something to be said for that. Seriously. Who could guess what his lawyers had hidden in the divorce documents?

They were both silent. Horns honked and trucks rumbled by five floors below.

“I don’t trust you, Zach,” she informed him tartly. Which was completely true.

His expression hardening by the second, he stuffed the pen into his pocket, then deliberately tucked the checkbook away. He closed and latched the briefcase, and sharply straightened the sleeves of his jacket.

Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind him.

Zach slid into the passenger seat of the black Porsche Carrera idling at the curb outside Kaitlin’s Yorkville apartment building and yanked the door shut behind him.

“Did she sign?” asked Dylan Gilby, as he slipped the gearshift into First.

Zach tugged the seat belt over his shoulder and clicked the latch into place. “Nope.”

He normally prided himself on his negotiating skills. But there was something about Kaitlin that put him off his rhythm, and the meeting had been a colossal failure.

He didn’t remember her being so stubborn. To be fair, he hadn’t known her particularly well. They’d met a few times before the party, but it was only in passing while she was working on the renovation plans for his office building. He remembered her as smart, diligent, fun-loving and beautiful.

He had to admit, the beautiful part certainly still held true. Dressed to the nines in Vegas, she was the most stunning woman in a very big ballroom. Even today, in a faded baseball T-shirt and jeans, she was off the charts. No wonder he’d gone along with Elvis and said “I do.” He was pretty sure, in that moment, he did.

“You offered her the money?” asked Dylan.

“Of course I offered her money.” Zach had wanted to be fair. Well, and he’d also wanted the problem solved quickly and quietly. Money could usually be counted on to accomplish that.

“No go?” asked Dylan.

“She’s calling her lawyer,” Zach admitted with a grimace, cursing under his breath. Somehow, he’d played it all wrong. He’d blown his chance to end this neatly, and he had nobody to blame but himself.

Dylan flipped on his signal light and checked the rearview mirror on the busy street. He zipped into a tight space between a Mercedes and an old Toyota. “So, basically, you’re screwed.”

“Thank you for that insightful analysis,” Zach growled at his friend. Harper Transportation could well be on the line here, and Dylan was cracking jokes?

“What are friends for?” joked Dylan.

“Procuring single malt.” If ever there was a time that called for a bracing drink, this was it.

“I have to fly today,” said Dylan. “And I get the feeling you’ll need every brain cell functioning.”

Zach braced his elbow against the armrest as the car angled its way through traffic on the rain-dampened street. He reviewed the conversation with Kaitlin like a postgame tape. Where had he messed it up?

“Maybe I should have offered her more,” he ventured, thinking out loud. “Five million? Do people say no to five million?”

“You might have to tell her the truth,” Dylan offered.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Clinically, no.”

“Tell her that she’s inherited my grandmother’s entire estate?”

Hand the woman control on a silver platter? Did Dylan want to guarantee Zach was ruined?

“She did, in fact, inherit your grandmother’s estate,” Dylan pointed out.

Zach felt his blood pressure rise. He was living a nightmare, and Dylan of all people should appreciate the outrageousness of the situation.

“I don’t care what kind of paperwork was filed by the Electric Chapel of Love,” Zach growled. “Kaitlin Saville is not my wife. She is not entitled to half of Harper Transportation, and I will die before—”

“Her lawyer may well disagree with you.”

“If her lawyer has half a brain, he’ll tell her to take the two million and run.” At least Zach hoped that was what her lawyer would say.

The two of them were married. Yes. He’d have to own that particular mistake. But it couldn’t possibly be a situation his grandmother had remotely contemplated when she wrote her will. There was the letter of the law, and then there was the spirit of the law. His grandmother had never intended for a stranger to inherit her estate.

He had no idea if New York was, in fact, a joint property state. But even if it was, he and Kaitlin had never lived together. They’d never had sex. They’d never even realized they were married. The very thought that she’d get half of his corporation was preposterous.

“Did you think about getting an annulment?” asked Dylan.

Zach nodded. He’d talked to his lawyers about that, but they weren’t encouraging. “We never slept together,” he told Dylan. “But she could lie and say that we did.”

“Would she lie?”

“What do I know? I thought she’d take the two million.” Zach glanced around, orienting himself as they approached an entrance to Central Park. “We going anywhere near McDougal’s?”

“I’m not getting you drunk at three in the afternoon.” Dylan shook his head in disgust as he took a quick left. The Porsche gripped the pavement, and they barely beat an oncoming taxi.

“Are you my nursemaid?” asked Zach.

“You need a plan, not a drink.”

In Zach’s opinion, that was definitely debatable.

They slowed to a stop for a red light at another intersection. Two taxi drivers honked and exchanged hand gestures, while a throng of people swelled out from the sidewalk in the light drizzle and made their way between the stopped cars.

“She thinks I got her fired,” Zach admitted.

“Did you?”

“No.”

Dylan sent him a skeptical look. “Is she delusional? Or did you do something that resembled getting her fired?”

“Fine.” Zach shifted his feet on the floor of the Porsche. “I canceled the Hutton Quinn contract to renovate the office building. The plans weren’t even close to what I wanted.”

“And they fired her,” Dylan confirmed with a nod of comprehension.

Zach held up his palms in defense. “Their staffing choices are none of my business.”

Kaitlin’s renovation plans had been flamboyant and exotic in a zany, postmodern way. They weren’t at all in keeping with the Harper corporate image.

Harper Transportation had been a fixture in New York City for a hundred years. People depended on them for solid reliability and consistency. Their clients were serious, hardworking people who got the job done through boom times and down times.

“Then why do you feel guilty?” asked Dylan as they swung into an underground parking lot off Saint Street.

“I don’t feel guilty.” It was business. Nothing more and nothing less. Zach knew guilt had no part in the equation.

It was not as if he should have accepted inferior work because he’d once danced with Kaitlin, held her in his arms, kissed her mouth and wondered for a split second if he’d actually gone to heaven. Decisions that were based on a man’s sex drive were the quickest road to financial ruin.

Dylan scoffed an exclamation of disbelief as he came parallel with the valet’s kiosk. He shut off the car and set the parking break.

“What?” Zach demanded.

Dylan pointed at Zach. “I know that expression. I stole wine with you from my dad’s cellar when we were fifteen, and I remember the day you felt up Rosalyn Myers.”

The attendant opened the driver’s door, and Dylan dropped the keys into the man’s waiting palm.

Zach exited the car, as well. “I didn’t steal anything from Kaitlin Saville, and I certainly never—” He clamped his jaw shut as he rounded the polished, low-slung hood of the Porsche. The very last element he needed to introduce into this conversation was Kaitlin Saville’s breasts.

“Maybe that’s your problem,” said Dylan.

Zach coughed out an inarticulate exclamation.

“You married her,” Dylan said, taking obvious satisfaction in pointing that fact out as they crossed the crowded parking lot. “You must have liked her. You said yourself you haven’t slept with her. Maybe you’re not so much angry as horny.”

“I’m angry. Trust me. I can tell the difference.” Zach’s interest in Kaitlin was in getting rid of her. Anything else was completely out of the question.

“Angry at her or at yourself?”

“At her,” said Zach. “I’m just the guy trying to fix the problem here. If she’d sign the damn papers, or if my grandmother hadn’t—”

“It’s not nice to be mad at your grandmother,” Dylan admonished.

Zach wasn’t exactly angry with Grandma Sadie. But he was definitely puzzled by her behavior. Why on earth would she put the family fortune at risk? “What was she thinking?”

Dylan stepped up onto the painted yellow curb. “That she wanted your poor wife to have some kind of power balance.”

An unsettling thought entered Zach’s brain. “Did my grandmother talk to you about her will?”

“No. But she was logical and intelligent.”

Zach didn’t disagree with that statement. Sadie Harper had been a very intelligent, organized and capable woman. Which only made her decision more puzzling.

After Zach’s parents were killed in a boating accident when he was twenty, she’d been his only living relative. They’d grown very close the past fourteen years. She was ninety-one when she died, and had grown increasingly frail over the past year. She’d passed away only a month ago.

Zach thought he was ready.

He definitely wasn’t.

He and Dylan headed into the elevator, and Dylan inserted his key card for the helipad on top of the forty-story building.

“She probably wanted to sweeten the deal,” Dylan offered, with a grin. He leaned back against the rail, bracing his hands on either side as the doors slid shut. “With that kind of money on the table, you’ll have a fighting chance at getting a decent woman to marry you.”

“Your faith in me is inspiring.”

“I’m just sayin’ …”

“That I’m a loser?”

The elevator accelerated upward.

Dylan happily elaborated. “That there are certain things about your personality that might put women off.”

“Such as?”

“You’re grumpy, stubborn and demanding. You want to drink scotch in the middle of the day, and your ass isn’t what it used to be.”

“My ass is none of your business.” Zach might be approaching thirty-five, but he worked out four times a week, and he could still do ten miles in under an hour.

“What about you?” he challenged.

“What about me?” Dylan asked.

“We’re the same age, so your ass is in as much danger as mine. But I don’t see you in a hurry to settle into a relationship.”

“I’m a pilot.” Dylan grinned again. “Pilots are sexy. We can be old and gray, and we’ll still get the girls.”

“Hey, I’m a multimillionaire,” Zach defended.

“Who isn’t?”

The elevator came smoothly to a halt, and the doors slid open to the small glass foyer of the helipad. One of Dylan’s distinctive yellow-and-black Astral Air choppers sat waiting on the rooftop. A pilot by training, Dylan had built Astral Air from a niche division of his family’s corporation to one of the biggest flight service companies in America.

Dylan gave a mock salute to a uniformed technician as he and Zach jogged to the chopper and climbed inside.

He checked a row of switches and plugged in the headset. “You want me to drop you at the office?”

“What are your plans?” asked Zach. He wasn’t in a hurry to be alone with his own frustrations. He had a lot of thinking to do, but first he wanted to sleep on it, start fresh, maybe forget that he’d screwed up so badly with Kaitlin.

“I’m going up to the island,” said Dylan. “Aunt Ginny’s been asking about me, and I promised I’d drop in.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

Dylan shot him a look of surprise. Aunt Ginny could most charitably be described as eccentric. Her memory was fading, and for some reason she’d decided Zach was a reprobate. She also liked to torture the family’s Stradivarius violin and read her own poetry aloud.

“She has two new Pekingese,” Dylan warned.

Zach didn’t care. The island had always been a retreat for him. He needed to clear his head and then come up with a contingency plan.

“I hope your dad still stocks the thirty-year-old Glenlivet,” he told Dylan.

“I think we can count on that.” Dylan started the engine, and the chopper’s rotor blades whined to life.

Two

A week later, Kaitlin met her best friend, law professor Lindsay Rubin, in the park behind Seamount College in midtown. The cherry trees were in full bloom, scenting the air, their petals drifting to the walkway as the two women headed toward the lily pad–covered duck pond. It was lunchtime on a Wednesday, and the benches were filled with students from the college, along with businesspeople from the surrounding streets. Moms and preschool kids picnicked on blankets that dotted the lush grass.

“I finished reviewing your papers,” Lindsay said, swiping her shoulder-length blond hair over the shoulders of her classic navy blazer while they strolled their way down the concrete path.

Kaitlin and Lindsay’s friendship went back to their freshman year at college. Social Services had finally stepped out of Kaitlin’s life, and Lindsay had left her family in Chicago. On the same floor of the college dorms, they’d formed an instant bond.

They’d stayed close friends ever since, so Lindsay knew that Zach had ruined Kaitlin’s career, and she applauded Kaitlin’s desire for payback.

“Am I safe to sign?” asked Kaitlin. The sunshine was warm against her bare legs and twinkled brightly where it reflected off the rippling pond. “And how soon do I have to let him off the hook?”

Lindsay grinned in obvious delight. She pressed the manila envelope against Kaitlin’s chest, and Kaitlin automatically snagged it.

“Oh, it’s better than that,” she said.

“Better than what?” Kaitlin was puzzled

Lindsay chuckled deep in her chest. “I mean, you can name your own ticket.”

“My ticket to what?”

Why was Lindsay talking in riddles?

“Life,” Lindsay elaborated in a singsong voice. “What do you want? A mansion? A jet? A billion dollars?”

“I told you, I said no to the money.” Kaitlin hadn’t changed her mind about the money. She didn’t want what she hadn’t earned. “And what do you mean a billion? He was talking about two million.”

“It’s more than just two million.” Lindsay shook her head in what appeared to be amazement. “It’s Sadie Harper herself.”

Kaitlin lifted her hands, palms up, to signal her incomprehension. She assumed Sadie Harper must have something to do with Zach Harper, but that was as far as she got with the connection. What did the woman have to do with his money?

Lindsay lowered her voice, sounding decidedly conspiratorial as she moved closer to Kaitlin, her gaze darting dramatically around them. “Sadie was the matriarch of the Harper family. She died a month ago at the Harper house on Serenity Island.”

The pathway split, and Lindsay eased Kaitlin toward the route that skirted the pond. Their high heels clicked against the smooth, sun-warmed concrete.

Kaitlin still didn’t understand Lindsay’s point.

“I read a copy of her will,” said Lindsay. “You, my girl, are in it.”

“How can I be in it?” This conversation was making less sense by the minute. Kaitlin didn’t know Sadie Harper. Up until this minute, she’d never even heard of Sadie Harper.

“In fact,” Lindsay continued, a lilt of delight in her voice, “you are the sole beneficiary.”

Kaitlin instantly halted, turning to peer at Lindsay with narrowed eyes. Traffic zipped past on Liberty, engines roaring, horns honking. Cyclist and pedestrian traffic parted around them, some people shooting annoyed looks their way.

Lindsay tugged on Kaitlin’s arm, moving them off to the side of the pathway. “She left her entire estate to Mrs. Zachary Harper.”

“Get out,” Kaitlin breathed.

“I am dead serious.”

Kaitlin stepped farther aside to make room for a pair of cyclists skirting the edge of the path. “How did she even know about me?”

“She didn’t.” Lindsay gave her head a shake. “That’s the beauty of it. Well, part of the beauty of it. The whole thing is truly very beautiful.”

“Lindsay,” Kaitlin prompted with impatience.

“The will holds her estate in trust until Zach gets married,” said Lindsay. “But he’s already married so, in the eyes of the law, you own fifty percent of Harper Transportation.”

Kaitlin’s knees went weak.

No wonder Zach had seemed desperate.

No wonder he was in such a hurry to get rid of her.

“So, what do you want?” Lindsay asked again, a giggle at the end of the question.

Speechless, Kaitlin shoved the envelope back at Lindsay, overwhelmed by the thought of what was at stake. She took a step away and shook her head in silent refusal.

“I don’t want anything,” she finally managed to reply.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lindsay cajoled.

“The wedding was a joke,” Kaitlin reminded her. “It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to marry him. And I sure don’t deserve half his company.”

“Then take the money instead,” Lindsay offered reasonably.

As if that made it better. “I’m not taking his money, either.”

Lindsay held up her palms in exasperation. “So, what do you want? What’s the payback?”

Kaitlin thought about it for a moment. “I want him to sweat.”

Lindsay chuckled and linked her arm with Kaitlin’s, turning her to resume their walk. “Trust me, honey.” She patted her on the shoulder. “He is definitely sweating.”

“And I want a job,” said Kaitlin with conviction. That was what she’d lost in this debacle. She needed her career back.

“I don’t want free money,” she told Lindsay, voice strengthening. “I want a chance to prove myself. I’m a good … no, I’m a great architect. And all I want is a fair shot at proving it.”

The path met up with the sidewalk, and Lindsay tipped her head and stared up at the Harper Transportation sign on the pillar-adorned, ten-story concrete building across the street. “So, ask him for one,” she suggested.

Kaitlin squinted at the massive blue lettering. She glanced to Lindsay, then again at the sign. Suddenly, the possibilities of the situation bloomed in her brain.

A slow smile grew on her face. “There’s a reason I love you,” she said to Lindsay, giving her arm a squeeze. “That is a brilliant plan.”

And it was exactly what she’d do. She would make Zach Harper give her a job. She’d make him give her the job that should have been hers in the first place—developing designs for the renovation of his corporate headquarters.

She’d pick up right where she’d left off. In fact, she’d come up with an even better concept. Then, once she’d proven to him and to the world that she was a talented architect, she’d sign whatever papers he needed her to sign. He’d have his company back, and she’d have her life back. And, most importantly, she wouldn’t have to leave New York City.

The light turned green, and she tugged on Lindsay’s arm. “You’re coming with me.”

Lindsay hesitated, staying on the curb. “I have a class now.”

“We’ll be quick,” Kaitlin promised.

“But—”

“Come on. I need you to spout some legalese to scare him.”

“Trust me, he’s already scared.” But Lindsay started across the street.

“Then it’ll be easy,” Kaitlin assured her, stepping up on the opposite curb then mounting the short concrete staircase.

They made their way across the small serviceable lobby of the Harper Transportation building. Kaitlin had been in the building many times, so she knew Zach’s office was on the top floor.

While they took the groaning elevator ride up twenty stories, she straightened her short black skirt and adjusted her sleeveless, jade-green sweater, anchoring the strap of her small handbag. She moistened her lips as they exited the elevator. Then she determinedly paced down the narrow hallway to Zach’s receptionist.

“I’m here to see Zach Harper,” Kaitlin announced with as much confidence as she could muster.

Her pulse had increased, and her palms were starting to dampen. She was suddenly afraid the plan wouldn’t work. Like a drowning woman who’d been tossed a life vest, she was afraid her chance would float away before she could grab on to it.

“Do you have an appointment?” the young brunette woman asked politely, glancing from Kaitlin to Lindsay and back again. Kaitlin had seen the woman from a distance while working on the project for Hutton Quinn, but they’d never been introduced.

“No,” Kaitlin admitted, realizing the odds were slim that Zach was available at that particular moment.

Lindsay stepped forward, standing two inches taller than Kaitlin, her voice telegraphing professionalism and importance. “Tell him it’s a legal matter,” she said to the receptionist. “Kaitlin Saville.”

The woman’s head came up, curiosity flaring briefly in her blue eyes. “Of course. One moment, please.” She rose from her wheeled desk chair.

“Thanks,” Kaitlin whispered to Lindsay, as the receptionist walked down the hallway that stretched behind her desk. “I knew you’d come in handy.”

“I’ll send you a bill,” Lindsay responded in an undertone.

“No, you won’t.” Kaitlin knew her friend better than that. Lindsay had never charged her for anything in her life.

“Ten minutes from now, you’ll be able to afford me,” Lindsay joked.

“Send Zach the bill,” Kaitlin suggested, a nervous sense of excitement forming in her belly. If this worked. If it actually worked …

“Will do,” Lindsay promised.

The receptionist returned, a practiced, professional smile on her face. “Right this way, please.”

She led them past a few closed doors to the end of the hallway where a set of double doors stood open on a big, bright, burgundy-carpeted room.

She gestured them inside, and Kaitlin entered first.

If she thought Zach had looked impressive standing in her apartment last week, it was nothing compared to what his office did for him. The fine surroundings reeked of power, and he was obviously in his element.

His big desk was walnut with inset cherry panels. A matching credenza and hutch were accented with cherry wood drawers, and a bookcase opposite showcased leather-bound volumes and nautical carvings. The desk chair was also leather, and high-backed with carved wood arms. Two guest chairs flanked the front of his desk, while a meeting table stood in an arched window alcove.

As Kaitlin crossed the thick carpet, Zach came to his feet. As usual, he wore a perfectly pressed, incredibly well-cut suit. His usual white shirt was crisp and bright. The necktie was gold this time, with a subtle silver thread that picked up the sunlight.

“Thank you, Amy.” He nodded to the receptionist, who closed the doors as she left the room.

His gaze flicked to Lindsay and he quirked a questioning brow in her direction.

“My lawyer,” Kaitlin explained to him. “Lindsay Rubin.”

“Please sit down.” Zach gestured to the leather guest chairs.

But Kaitlin chose to remain standing. “I’ll sign your papers,” she told him.

Zach’s glance went back to Lindsay, then returned to Kaitlin. The barest hint of a smile twitched his full lips, and there was a definite flare of relief in his gray eyes.

“But I want two things,” Kaitlin continued.

Though she knew she ought to enjoy this, she was far too nervous to get any pleasure out of watching him sweat.

This had to work.

It simply had to.

Zach’s brow furrowed, and she could almost feel him calculating dollar figures inside his head.

“One—” she counted on her fingers, struggling to keep a quaver from forming in her voice “—our marriage stays secret.” If people found out she was married to Zach, the professional credential of renovating his building would mean less than nothing. The entire city would chalk it up to their personal relationship.

“Two,” she continued, “you give me a job. Renovation design director, or some similar title.”

His eyes narrowed. “You want a job?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

He appeared genuinely puzzled. “Why?”

“I’ll need an office and some support staff while I finish planning the renovations to your building. Since you already have those things available here …”

He was silent for a full three seconds. “I’m offering you money, not a job.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Kaitlin—”

She squared her shoulders. “This is not negotiable, Zach. I get free rein, carte blanche. I do your renovation, my way, and—”

He leaned forward, tenting his fingers on the polished desktop. “Not a hope in hell.”

“Excuse me?”

They glared at each other for a drawn-out second while a thousand emotions skittered along her nervous system.

He was intimidating. He was also undeniably arousing. He was both her problem and her solution. And she was terrified this chance would somehow slip through her fingers.

Then Lindsay spoke up, her voice haughty and authoritarian as she stepped into the conversation. “You should know, Mr. Harper, that I’ve provided Ms. Saville with a copy of Sadie Harper’s will, as filed with the probate court.”

The room went to dead silent.

Nobody moved, and nobody breathed.

Kaitlin forced herself to straighten to her full height. She crossed her arms over her chest, letting his stunned expression boost her confidence.

“I’ll divorce you, Zach,” she told him. “I’ll sign the entire company over to you. Just as soon as I have my career back.”

His furious gaze settled on Kaitlin. His tone turned incredulous. “You’re blackmailing me?”

Sweat prickled her hairline, anxiety peaking within her. “I’m making you a deal.”

Several beats ticked by in thick silence, while her stomach churned with anxiety.

His expression barely changed. But finally, he gave a single, curt nod.

Her heart clunked deep in her chest, while a wave of relief washed coolly over her skin.

She’d done it.

She’d bought herself a second chance.

She doubted Zach would ever forgive her. But she couldn’t let herself care about that. All that mattered was she was back on the job.

From beneath the stained concrete porch of the Harper Transportation building, Kaitlin stared at the rain pounding down on Liberty Street. It was the end of her first full day of work, and her nerves had given way to a cautious optimism.

Zach hadn’t made her feel particularly welcome, but she did have a desk, a cubbyhole of a windowless office, with a drafting table and a bent filing cabinet. And, though other staff members seemed confused by the sudden change in the renovation project, one of the administrative assistants had introduced her around and offered to help out.

Kaitlin inhaled the moist May air. Fat raindrops were splashing on the concrete steps, forming puddles and rivulets on the pavement below. She glanced at the gray sky and gauged the distance to the subway staircase in the next block. She wished she’d checked the weather report this morning and tossed an umbrella into her bag.

“I trust you found everything you need?” Zach’s deep voice held a mocking edge behind her.

Kaitlin twisted, taking in his towering height and strong profile against the backdrop of his historic building. She was forced to remind herself that she was in the driver’s seat in this circumstance. She should make him nervous, not the other way around.

“Could you have found me a smaller office?” she asked, attempting to go on the offensive. He was obviously making some kind of a point by relegating her to a closet. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was attempting to put her in her place.

“Haven’t you heard?” His mouth flexed in a cool half smile, confirming her suspicions. “We’re renovating.”

“I notice your office is plenty roomy,” she persisted, hoping to give him at least a twinge of guilt.

“That’s because I own the company.” His expression hinted that he also owned a decent portion of the world.

She arched a meaningful brow in his direction, feeling a little more in control when his expression wavered. “So do I,” she pointed out.

Her victory was short-lived.

“You want me to evict a vice president for you?” Left unsaid was the understanding that while he could easily give her special treatment, they both knew it would raise questions amongst the staff, potentially compromising her desire to keep their personal relationship a secret.

“You have nothing between the executive floor and a closet?” Of course, the last thing she wanted to do was call attention to herself. He had to treat her no better and no worse than any other employee. Right now, it certainly appeared he was treating her worse.

“Take your pick,” Zach offered with a careless shrug. “I’ll kick someone out.”

Kaitlin hiked up her shoulder bag. “And they’ll know it’s me.”

“You do own the company,” he drawled.

She rolled her eyes. “Just treat me like you would anyone else.”

“That seems unlikely.” He nodded to a shiny, black late-model town car cruising up to the curb. “Can I give you a lift?”

She slid him an incredulous glance. He had to be kidding.

“Hop into the boss’s car after my first day of work?” Right. That would work well to keep her under the radar.

“You afraid people will get the wrong idea?”

“I’m afraid they’ll get the right idea.”

His mouth quirked again. “I have some papers you need to sign.”

The rain wasn’t letting up, but she took a tentative step forward, muttering under her breath. “No divorce yet, Mr. Harper.”

He stepped into the rain beside her, keeping pace, his voice going low as hers. “They’re not divorce papers, Mrs. Harper.”

The title on his lips gave her a jolt. She’d spent the day trying to forget about their circumstances and focus on getting started at her job. But she was beginning to realize forgetting their circumstances was going to be nearly impossible.

They were married, married.

She tipped her head, surreptitiously taking in his profile, the dark eyes, the furrowed brow and the small scar on his right cheekbone. She tried to imagine an intimate relationship, where they joked and touched and—

“Kaitlin?”

She gave herself a firm mental shake, telling herself to get control. “What kind of papers?”

He glanced around, obviously confirming a sufficient buffer of space between them and the other Harper employees heading out the doors. “Confirmation of my positions as the president and CEO.”

“What are you now?”

“President and CEO.” His gunmetal eyes were as dark and impenetrable as the storm clouds. He was not a man who easily gave away his emotions. “There’s been a change in the company ownership,” he explained.

It took a moment for the enormity of his words to sink in. Without her signature, his position in the company was in jeopardy. He couldn’t do what he’d always done, and he couldn’t be who he’d always been, without her consent on paper.

Something hard and cold slid though her stomach.

It wasn’t right that she had this kind of power. All she wanted was to do her job. She didn’t want to have to sift through her confusing feelings for Zach. And she sure didn’t want to have to analyze the circumstances and decide if they were fair.

They weren’t. But then neither was the alternative.

“Get in the car, Kaitlin,” he told her. “We need to get this signed and settled.”

She couldn’t help but note the stream of employees exiting from the building. Even as they dashed down the rainy steps, most of them glanced curiously at Zach. Climbing into his car in full view of a dozen coworkers was out of the question.

She leaned slightly closer, muffling her voice. “Pick me up on Grove, past the bus stop.”

He gave a subtle but unmistakable eye roll. “You don’t think that’s a bit cloak-and-dagger?”

“I’m trying to blend,” she reminded him. Her plan to rescue her career would come to a screeching halt if people had any inkling that she had some leverage over Zach.

“You’ll get soaked,” he warned her.

A little water was the least of her worries.

Well, except for what it would do to her shoes. They’d been on sale, her only pair of Strantas. She loved what they did for her legs, and they looked great with anything black.

She braced herself, mentally plotting a path around the worst of the scattered puddles.

“Have a nice evening, Mr. Harper,” she called loud enough for passersby to hear as she trotted down the stairs.

She made her way along the sidewalk, surging with the crowd toward the traffic light at the corner. When it turned green, she paced across the street, avoiding numerous black umbrellas in her path and hopping over the gurgle of water flowing against the opposite curb.

On the other side, she negotiated her way to the edge of the sidewalk, raking her wet hair back from her forehead and tucking it behind her ears. She swiped a few raindrops from her nose then extracted her cell phone, pressing the speed dial as she hustled toward the bus stop shelter.

“Kaitlin?” came Lindsay’s breathless voice.

“What are you doing?”

“Riding the bike.”

Kaitlin pictured Lindsay on the stationary bike crammed into the small living space of her loft. “I’m going to be late for dinner.”

“What’s going on?” Lindsay huffed.

As she wove her way through the wet crowd, Kaitlin lowered her voice to mock doom. “I’m about to get into a big black car with Zach Harper.”

“Better send me the license plate number.”

Kaitlin cracked a grin, comforted by Lindsay’s familiar sense of humor. The two women had known each other so long, they were almost always on the same wavelength. “I’ll text it to you.”

A deep, classic-rock bass resonated in the background. A fixture whenever Lindsay exercised. “Why are you getting in his car?”

“He wants me to sign something.”

“Better let me read it first.”

“I will if it looks complicated,” Kaitlin promised. “He says it’s to reconfirm him as president and CEO.” Not that she trusted everything Zach said. In fact, thus far, she trusted exactly nothing of what Zach said.

“It could be a trick,” Lindsay warned.

Kaitlin grinned into the phone. “There is yet another reason I love you.”

“I’ve got your back. Seriously, Katie, if you see the words irreconcilable or absolute I want you to run the other way.”

“Will do.” Kaitlin caught sight of the black car. “Oops. There he is. Gotta go.”

“Call me when you’re done. I want details. And dinner.” There was a gasp in Lindsay’s voice. “I definitely still want dinner.”

“I’ll call,” Kaitlin agreed, folding her phone and tucking it into the pocket of her purse as Zach swung open the back door of his car and hopped out onto the sidewalk next to her.

He flipped up the collar of his gray overcoat and gestured her inside. She gathered her own wet coat around her and ducked to climb in.

“Lunatic,” he muttered under his breath.

“Lucky for you we’re not having children,” she said over her shoulder as she settled into the seat.

“Lucky for me we’re not buying plants.” He firmly shut the door behind her before walking around the vehicle to get in behind the driver.

She shook the rainwater from her fingertips, smoothing her soaked jacket and frowning at her soggy bag. “Green and Stafford in Yorkville,” she said to the driver, getting an unwelcome glimpse of herself in the side mirror.

“The penthouse, Henry,” Zach corrected.

“You’re not dropping me off?” She wasn’t sure why his bad manners surprised her. Zach was all about his own convenience. His minions obviously didn’t factor in on his radar.

“Henry will take you home later,” he said.

Later? She raised her brow in a question.

“The papers are at my penthouse.”

Of course they were. Having the papers available in the car would be far too simple. Resigned, she plunked her bag into her lap and gave up on trying to repair her look. She was a mess, and that was that.

“Don’t you worry about inconveniencing me,” she drawled. “It’s not like I have a life.”

Henry pulled into the snarl of traffic heading for Liberty and Wildon, while Zach sent her a speculative, sidelong glance. “Stroke of a pen gets you out of this any old time you want.”

She determinedly shook her head. Much as she’d love to sever both their marital and business ties, if she let him off the hook, the man would fire her in the blink of an eye.

He leaned back in the leather seat, angling his body so that he faced her. “What if I promised you could keep your job?”

Rain rattled harder on the car’s sunroof, while the wipers slapped their way across the windshield, blurring the view of the street.

Kaitlin made a half turn in the seat, meeting Zach’s dark eyes. “That would require me trusting you.”

“You can trust me,” he assured her.

She coughed out a laugh. “You ruined my life.”

He frowned. “I made you a very wealthy woman.”

“I don’t want to be a wealthy woman.”

“I say again. You can get out of this anytime you want.”

She made a show of glancing around the interior of the car. “Is there some way to exit this conversation?” she asked him. “Or does it just keep circling the drain?”

Horns honked in the lanes beside them as Henry inched his way through a left-hand turn. Kaitlin swiped at her damp, tangled hair, resisting an urge to slip off her soggy shoes and wiggle her toes into the thick carpet.

“You’re going to find it very inconvenient being my business partner,” Zach warned.

She cocked her head, watching him as she spoke. “Because you’ll go out of your way to make it hell?”

He resettled himself in the butter-soft seat. “And here I thought I was being subtle.”

“This is fifty pages long.” Standing in the middle of Zach’s penthouse living room, Kaitlin frowned as she leafed her way through the document.

“It deals with control of a multimillion-dollar corporation,” he returned with what he hoped resembled patience. “We could hardly jot it down on a cocktail napkin.”

Though he’d had a few days to come to terms with this bizarre twist in his life, Zach was still chafing at the circumstance. He didn’t want to have to justify anything about Harper Transportation to Kaitlin, even temporarily. His grandma Sadie had complete faith in him—at least he’d always thought she’d had complete faith in him. He’d never had to explain anything about the company to her. He’d basically been running the show for over a decade.

But now there was Kaitlin. And she was underfoot. And she had questions. And he could only imagine what kind of monstrosity he’d be left with for an office building.

Dylan had pointed out yesterday that appeasing Kaitlin was better than losing half his company. Maybe it was. But barely.

“I’ll need to have my lawyer look at this,” Kaitlin announced, reaching down to pull open her oversize shoulder bag in order to deposit the document inside.

“Give it a read before you decide,” Zach cajoled through halfgritted teeth. “It’s not Greek.” He pointed. “You and I sign page three, authorizing the board of directors. The board members have already signed page twenty, confirming my positions. The rest is … well, read it. You’ll see.”

She hesitated, peering at him with suspicion. But after a moment, she sighed, dropping her bag onto his sofa. “Fine. I’ll take a look.”

He tried not to cringe as her wet purse hit the white leather cushion of his new, designer Fendi.

“Your coat?” he offered instead, holding out his hands to accept it. The coat he’d hang safely in his hall closet before she had a chance to drape it over his ironwood table.

She slipped out of the dripping rain jacket, revealing a clingy, black-and-burgundy, knee-length dress. It had capped sleeves, a scooped neck and a pencil-straight skirt that flowed down to her shapely legs, which were clad in black stockings. Damp as they were, her high heels accentuated slim ankles and gorgeous calves.

Though they’d spoken briefly at the office this morning, she’d been wearing her coat at the time. He’d had no idea what was hidden beneath. Just as well he hadn’t had that image inside his brain all day long.

“Thank you,” she acknowledged, handing him the coat.

“I’m … uh …” He pointed in the general direction of the hallway and the kitchen, making his escape before she noticed he was ogling her body with his mouth hanging open.

In the kitchen, he found that his housekeeper had left a note informing him there was salad and a chicken dish in the fridge. She’d also left a bottle of Cabernet on the breakfast bar. Zach automatically reached for the corkscrew, breathing through the dueling emotions of frustration and arousal.

Sure, Kaitlin was an attractive woman. He knew that. He’d known that from the minute he met her. But there were attractive women everywhere. He didn’t have to fixate on her.

He popped the cork.

No. No reason at all for him to fixate on her.

In fact, maybe he should get himself a date. A date would distract him. He’d been working too hard lately, that was all. A date with another, equally attractive woman would nip this fascination with Kaitlin in the bud.

He reached for the crystal glasses hanging from the rack below the cabinet.

Dylan had offered to introduce him to his newest helicopter pilot. He’d said she was attractive and athletic. She was a Yankees fan, but he could probably live with that. And she had a master’s degree in art history. Who didn’t like art history?

Before Zach realized what he’d done, he’d filled two glasses with wine.

“Oh, hell.”

Then again, he supposed the woman deserved a drink. If she signed the papers, they’d toast the accomplishment. If she refused to sign, maybe the wine would loosen her up, and he could take another stab at convincing her.

He shrugged out of his suit jacket, moving farther down the hallway to the master bedroom. There, he hung the jacket in his closet, shed his tie and glanced in the mirror above his dresser.

He definitely needed a shave. And his white shirt was wrinkled from being worn all day.

He glanced once at the jacket and considered putting it back on. But common sense prevailed. Instead, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. If this was a date, he’d shave and redress. But it wasn’t a date. And his looks would be the last thing on Kaitlin’s mind.