Kitabı oku: «Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation», sayfa 3
The heels she’d chosen to complete her outfit were fabulous—as long as she didn’t have to actually walk in them. A trek down the block on uneven cement sidewalks wasn’t what she had in mind. She kept tennis shoes in her office for just such occasions, but five minutes notice on the most important lunch date of her career didn’t give her time to worry over footwear. She’d just suck it up.
When she crossed the street to the next block, she realized she never had gotten where they were supposed to meet. Italian, French or American. Her gaze scanned the bright umbrellas scattered along the sidewalk cafés, first on her side of the street and then across.
A vacuum formed, sucking all the oxygen right out of her lungs the moment she laid eyes on him. He stood in the sunlight, one hand shoved into the pocket of his slacks, the other holding a phone to his ear.
Power. There was an aura of power that surrounded him, and it drew her like a magnet. For a moment, she just stood watching him in absolute girly delight. He was simply. delicious looking.
Then he turned slightly and found her. How, she wasn’t sure given how busy the street was, but he locked onto her immediately almost as if he’d sensed her perusal.
She straightened and started forward, embarrassed to have been caught staring.
She crossed the street, hugging her briefcase between her arm and her side. Evan watched her approach, lean hunger gleaming in his eyes. His features relaxed into a smile as she drew abreast of him.
“Right on time.”
She nodded, not wanting to betray how out of breath she was from her flight from her office.
“I chose good ole American,” he said as he gestured toward a nearby table. “I hope that was all right.”
“Of course.”
He held out his arm for her to precede him to the table at the end of the row. She sat, grateful to be off her feet, and placed her briefcase beside her.
He took his seat across from her and motioned for the waiter.
“Would you like wine?” Evan asked Celia when the waiter approached.
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Evan relayed his request and then looked over at Celia. “I asked you to lunch because I’m afraid something has come up and we won’t be able to make our lunch date on Friday.”
She nodded then reached down for her briefcase. “That’s all right. I brought along the information I wanted to present—”
He reached over and circled her wrist with his fingers. “That isn’t why I invited you to lunch.”
She blinked and let go of her briefcase.
“I’d still like to keep our appointment … I’d just like to change the location.”
She was royally confused now, and it must have shown. Amusement twinkled in his eyes and he smiled.
“I don’t have a lot of time today, so let me come straight to the point.”
His fingers were still around her wrist, though they’d loosened, and his thumb moved idly over her pulse point. She was sure her pulse was racing. It probably felt like a train under his fingers. She didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. She didn’t want to lose the marvelous sensation of his touch. Did he have any idea just how devastating his effect on her was?
“I have a wedding this weekend.” She could swear his lips curled in distaste. “A family wedding. My brother is getting married on Catalina Island. I’m to be there Thursday evening, hence the reason I can’t make our Friday meeting.”
“I understand,” she said. “We can reschedule at your convenience.”
“I’d like you to go with me.”
Before she could call back the reaction, her eyes widened and she pulled her hand from his. She put it in her lap and cupped her other hand over it, wanting to preserve the sensation of his fingers over hers.
He put up his hand in an impatient gesture then lowered it and fiddled with the napkin on the table. He seemed almost uneasy. She cocked her head, curious now as to what he would say next.
“My schedule is quite busy. I need to move on this new campaign. I can’t spare weeks searching for a new agency. If you went with me, I could listen to your ideas. I realize a wedding isn’t ideal. I’d rather be just about any other place myself.”
Though it certainly wasn’t voiced as a threat, it was certainly implied. If she went with him, he’d listen to her pitch. If she didn’t he might not have time for her when he returned.
Worry knotted her stomach. Tagging along to a family wedding seemed entirely too personal even if the purpose was solely business. Not to mention it was hard enough to battle her attraction for him in a business setting. But something as intimate as a wedding?
“How long would we be … away?”
The question came out more as a squeak than a concise, professional query. She sounded like a scared little girl facing the big bad wolf. Oh, but Evan made such a yummy wolf.
It was all she could do not to put her head on the table and bang a few times.
“We’d fly out Thursday evening. Rehearsal and dinner on Friday, wedding Saturday with reception to follow and since it will likely go well into the night, we’d return Sunday.”
It would only require one missed day of work. No one but Brock would even need to know, and he certainly wouldn’t spill the beans.
She didn’t know why she hadn’t immediately agreed. She couldn’t afford to say no. He had her over a barrel and he damn well knew it. Still, she hesitated—if for no other reason than to let him know he didn’t call all the shots.
Okay, so maybe he did, but it didn’t hurt him to think otherwise. For two seconds.
“All right,” she said in as level a voice as she could manage.
Did he expect her to attend the festivities? It certainly sounded as though he did by the way he outlined the events. She supposed it would be rude to tag along and lurk in the shadows waiting for her appointed time. Or maybe he envisioned having her follow him around everywhere so he could fit in snatches of conversation when possible.
“I’d be happy to purchase any items you may need for the trip,” he said.
Startled, she glanced up. “No, I mean … no. Of course not. I can manage just fine. You’ll need to tell me the appropriate dress code of course.”
He managed a wry smile. “I’m sure anything to do with Bettina will be formal. Quite formal with lots of glitter and fanfare.”
His gaze slid sensuously over her features and then lower until her neck heated with a blush.
“I think anything you wear will be stunning. The dress you wore the other night was perfection on you.”
The blush climbed higher and she prayed her cheeks didn’t look like twin torches.
“I’m sure I can find something glitzy and glamorous,” she said lightly. “We girls do like the opportunity to play dress up.”
Interest sparked in his eyes. “I can’t wait.”
The waiter returned with the wine, and Celia latched gratefully onto the glass. Her hands shook. She was sure if she stood, she’d go down like a brick. She’d break an ankle trying to stay up on these ridiculous heels.
Note to self: Don’t pack gorgeous, sexy shoes for the weekend. Around him, she’d be a disaster on stilts. He’d spend his entire time picking her up off the floor, that is if she didn’t end up in the hospital in traction.
“I’ll call you later in the week with the flight arrangements. We’ll be taking my private jet.”
She swallowed and nodded, then realizing he’d need her number—her cell number and not her office number—she reached down into her briefcase to retrieve a business card.
She frowned, fumbled some more then pulled the bag into her lap. With a groan she realized her business-card holder must have fallen out. Impatiently she tore a piece of paper off a notepad and took out her pen.
Dropping the bag again, she put the paper on the table and hastily scribbled her home and cell number then passed it across the table to Evan.
He took it, studied it a moment then carefully folded it and tucked it away in the breast pocket of his jacket. The waiter approached with menus and Evan looked to her for her order.
“Just the lunch salad,” she said. What she really wanted was a really greasy burger with onion rings, but she didn’t want to appall Evan. Her brothers gave her all sorts of hell for her indelicate tastes, but then they were to blame for them.
Evan ordered a steak, medium, and after the waiter was gone, Evan stared over at her, his gaze inquisitive.
She cocked her head, prepared for him to ask her a question, but he didn’t say anything. He just seemed to study her as if he wanted to uncover all her deep, dark secrets.
Finally he sat back with a satisfied smile. His eyes glinted with triumph.
“I think this wedding is going to turn out to be enjoyable after all.”
Four
Celia stepped off the elevator and walked by Shelby, who held her hand up to get Celia’s attention.
“Later, Shelby,” she called as she headed for Brock’s office.
When she got to his door, she was nearly run over as Ash came out. He sidestepped her and kept on walking, his forehead wrinkled as if he were lost in thought. She wasn’t even sure he’d seen her.
She stuck her head in Brock’s door and breathed a sigh of relief when she found him alone. He glanced up and motioned her in.
“What’s with him?” she asked, jerking her head over her shoulder in Ash’s direction. “He’s been weird lately.”
Brock gave her one of those puzzled male looks that suggested he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. She rolled her eyes. Ash had been walking around in a fog, which wasn’t typical. He was usually on top of everything and everyone. Celia had overheard Shelby talking about a falling out with a girlfriend, but then she hadn’t even known Ash had been seeing anyone. Not that he would have confided in her.
She didn’t bother sitting. She had too much to do, and this wouldn’t take long.
“I have to go out of town Thursday afternoon.”
Brock stared back at her for a moment and then his brows drew together. He frowned and dropped the pen he’d been fiddling with.
“Is this some kind of emergency? You’re supposed to meet with Evan Reese on Friday.”
His tone suggested someone better be dying. He opened his mouth to say more but before he got off on the tangent she knew was coming, she held up her hand.
“I just had lunch with Evan. There’s been a change in plans. He has to be at some family wedding this weekend in Catalina so he couldn’t make it on Friday. He said he wants to move on this campaign and he doesn’t have a lot of time to spend in the selection process.”
Brock swore, his face going red. He picked the pen back up and flung it across his desk. “Dammit, is he even going to listen to our pitch?”
She sucked in a breath. “He wants me to go to Catalina with him. We’d leave Thursday afternoon. It’s the only time he can spare me and he’s promised to listen to my ideas while we’re there.”
Brock’s brow furrowed further and he studied her intently.
“I see.”
Forgetting about all she needed to do and that she didn’t want to be stuck here in Brock’s office forever, she sank down into one of the chairs and stared glumly at her boss.
“I told him I’d go. I didn’t see that I had a choice. While he didn’t come out and say it, he implied that if I didn’t, he was prepared to go with another agency.”
“I agree you should go. Does that make me an ass?”
Celia laughed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “No, it doesn’t make you an ass. I guess I just worry about the fallout. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t care. I never would have before, but I know what will be said if it gets out and how things will be twisted.”
“You have my support, Celia, and you have the support of the agency. Don’t ever doubt that.”
She rose and smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Brock.”
He grunted. “Get me the damn account. That’s all the thanks I need.”
She stopped on her way out, put her hand on the door frame and looked back. “I’ll need someone to cover for me on Friday. I have two client appointments, one in the morning and one in the afternoon.”
“Jason will cover for you. You just worry about knocking Evan Reese’s socks off.”
“I will,” Celia murmured. “I will.”
On her way down the hall, her BlackBerry rang and she dug into the pocket of her briefcase for it. Seeing Noah’s number on the LCD, she mashed the answer button and stuck the phone to her ear as she walked into her office.
“I’m working on the maid service,” she said in lieu of hello.
Noah chuckled. “Great, I nearly killed myself getting out of bed this morning. You’d be amazed how dangerous a pair of dirty underwear can be.”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Would you at least try not to send the maid screaming from your house on her first day? That’s just gross.”
He made a derisive sound. “So I read through the info you sent. I also had my agent do some checking. I might add that my agent is orgasmic that I’m considering this endorsement deal.”
“Tell him I expect a nice Christmas gift as thank you,” Celia said.
“Oh, please. He doesn’t even give his mother presents.”
Usually she wouldn’t mind chatting mindlessly with her siblings, but she had a hundred things to do before Thursday, including figure out how she was going to survive a weekend on an island with a man who made mincemeat of her willpower.
“So does this mean you’ll consider it?”
There was a pause, and she found herself holding her breath.
“Yeah. He checks out. He seems as solid as you said he was. I’ll talk to him if nothing else.”
She did a double-fist pump and dropped her bag on the floor by her desk.
“Have his people call my people,” Noah said airily.
Celia laughed. “I am his people. Or at least I will be.”
“Hey, you going to be at Dad’s this weekend?”
She winced when she remembered that she’d told their father she would indeed be there for Sunday dinner again.
“Afraid not. Something’s come up.”
Noah made a disapproving sound. “Don’t you ever take off? It’s Sunday, for Pete’s sake.”
“How do you know it’s work?” she defended. “Maybe I have a hot date.”
He snorted. “When was the last time you went on a hot date? It’s always work with you.”
Knowing they were about to get into lecture territory again, Celia cut him off before he got carried away.
“Hey, I have to run, Noah. Have a meeting in five minutes. I’ll call you later, okay?”
Before he could call her a liar, she hung up and plopped into her chair. She blew out a long sigh of relief and closed her eyes.
It was all coming together. Not without a few potholes, but it was within reach. All she had to do was hold it together and get through the weekend and the account would be hers.
“Knock, knock.”
Celia opened her eyes to see Jason Reagart standing in her doorway.
“Brock told me I needed to cover for you on Friday, so I stopped by so you could get me up to speed on what I need to know.”
“Yeah, have a seat. Give me a minute. Been running all morning. I’ll dig out my notes.”
Jason eased into a chair, his long legs eating up most of the space between it and her desk. Celia picked up her beleaguered briefcase and opened it on her desk.
“So how is Lauren?”
She hated idle conversation, but the silence was more awkward and she hadn’t planned on having to turn over the two meetings to anyone, so her notes were haphazard at best.
“Pregnant. Grumpy. You know, typical pregnant woman.”
Celia scowled at him over the top of her briefcase. “Like you wouldn’t be if you had to deal with water retention, hormones and arrogant men?”
Jason laughed. “Hey, I spoil her rotten.”
“As you should. Ah, here we go.”
She pulled out a folder and tossed it to Jason.
“Everything you need to know for the morning meeting is on pages one through three. This isn’t a big deal. They just need a little hand holding and a little ego stroking. Bowl them over with how Maddox is going to make them look good while increasing their exposure by three hundred percent and they’ll be fine.”
Jason flipped through the pages, his brow creased in concentration. She felt comfortable leaving her clients in his very capable hands. He took his job very seriously and moreover, he was damn good at what he did. Maddox had landed a huge account thanks to him, and if Celia had her way, she was going to top that by landing Evan Reese.
“And the afternoon meeting?” Jason asked.
“Hopefully you can read my notes. I have the PowerPoint presentation ready to go. They need to view it and sign off or suggest any changes so we can move it into the production stage. Impress upon them that this is their last chance to see it before it goes nationwide so make sure they’re happy with it.”
He nodded and straightened the papers before closing the folder. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Brock said you were going to be out of town. Hope everything is all right.”
There was a subtle question there, and she knew he hoped she’d expound on her reasons for not being there on Friday. She was just grateful Brock hadn’t told him where she was going and why.
She smiled. “Everything’s fine, and thank you again for stepping in on such short notice. I owe you one. Send Lauren my love. I’ll have to remember to buy her a gift certificate from my favorite spa. I can’t think of a pregnant woman alive who wouldn’t appreciate a massage.”
Jason sent her a disgruntled look. “I don’t want some beefcake putting his hands on my wife.”
Celia rolled her eyes. “The poor woman can’t see her feet and is probably miserable, and you’re going to be picky about who gives her some relief?”
“Damn right I am!”
Celia made a shooing motion with her hands. “Out. I have work to do.”
And she made a mental note to call her salon and make an appointment for Lauren. She’d ask for the hunkiest massage therapist they had.
Five
The car that Evan had sent to collect Celia pulled up to the plane parked on the paved landing area that led to the single runway and stopped just a few feet from where the door to the jet lay open.
Celia looked out the window to see Evan standing a short distance away. He was waiting for her.
The driver opened her door, and she stepped into the afternoon sun. She blinked a few times then pulled her shades from her head over her eyes. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so obvious how she ate Evan up with her gaze.
He was dressed casually. Jeans, polo shirt and loafers. She’d only ever seen him in suits, and she hadn’t imagined he could look better. She was wrong. So, so wrong.
The jeans cupped him in all the right places. They clung to his thighs, rounded his butt and molded to his groin. They weren’t new, starchy-looking jeans, either. They were faded and worn, just like a good pair of jeans should be.
“Celia,” he said with a nod as she approached. “If you’re ready, we can be on our way.”
“I just need to get my luggage …”
She turned to see that the driver was handing her luggage to a uniformed man.
“Okay then, I’m ready,” she said cheerfully.
He smiled and motioned for her to precede him onto the plane. She mounted the steps and ducked inside.
Her eyes widened at the luxurious interior. It was simple and understated, but she recognized it for what it was. Very expensive comfort. She shoved her shades up so she could get a better look.
There was nothing gaudy about any of the furnishings. It looked very masculine. It even smelled masculine. Leather and suede. Earth tones.
Beyond the three rows of seats, there was a small sitting area with a couch and one chair with a coffee table and a television. To her left between the seats and the cockpit was a small galley area complete with a steward.
The older man smiled at her and welcomed her on board.
As she and Evan took their seats, the steward introduced himself as William and asked her if she wanted a drink.
She glanced at Evan then back at William. “Do you have wine?”
William smiled. “But of course. Mr. Reese keeps the airplane stocked with all the necessities.”
She’d agree that wine was very necessary.
A few moments later, William returned with two glasses of wine.
“The pilot wished me to tell you he is ready for takeoff at your convenience.”
Evan took the glasses and offered one to Celia.
“Tell him I’m ready.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll close the doors and we’ll take off shortly.”
“Comfortable?” Evan asked Celia.
She settled back into her seat and sipped at her wine. “Mmm, very. Nice jet.”
She should have sat across the aisle from him, but that would be rude since he’d chosen the seat next to her. His nearness was killing her, though. His scent drifted enticingly across her nostrils and she could feel his heat. When he moved, his arm brushed against hers, and short of shifting in her seat—which would be terribly obvious—there was no escaping him. Furthermore, she didn’t really want to.
It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest they use the time on the flight to go over her ideas, but she couldn’t bring herself to have business intrude.
She mentally shook herself. Intrude on what? This wasn’t some romantic getaway. It was business. Only business and nothing else.
It was unfair that she should be attracted to someone who was a solid no in her rule book. She’d never broken that unspoken rule. She had never been tempted to get involved with someone she worked with, or worse—a client. It didn’t matter, though, because she’d carry the stigma of someone who advanced her career by bestowing sexual favors.
The memory sent rage curdling through her veins. She had to work at keeping her fingers relaxed. She’d worked damn hard to go beyond her family’s expectations. And to have it all taken away by someone in a position of power over her made her head explode.
The advertising community was small, and gossip was rampant. She was under no illusion that fleeing New York made it possible for her to leave what happened behind. It hadn’t been private. It had been very, very public.
She knew speculation ran wide. She knew people talked. Knew her coworkers probably whispered behind her back and pondered the possibility that she’d slept with Brock or Flynn Maddox to secure her position in the agency and to be granted the opportunity to land Evan Reese’s account. They probably thought she’d do whatever it took to persuade Evan.
The only person she’d bothered to defend herself to was Brock, and she figured she owed him that much if he was going to hire her. Only he knew the truth about what really happened at her former agency. And when he’d assured her that she’d suffer no such situation here, she’d believed him. It might make her unbelievably naive after her last run-in with her boss, but Brock struck her as a deeply honorable man, and more importantly, someone who kept his word.
“Is everything all right?”
Evan’s softly spoken question jarred her from her thoughts. His hand had gone to hers, and he carefully uncurled her fingers that were wound so tightly that the tips were white.
“Do you have a fear of flying?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
He studied her intently, his gaze stroking her cheeks and then her mouth.
“Seems a shame to waste time on such unpleasant thoughts.”
The urge to deny that her thoughts had been unpleasant lasted all of about two seconds. She wrinkled her nose and grinned ruefully.
“Busted.”
He chuckled. “I like an honest woman.”
It was then she realized that they were already in the air. Wow, she really must have been intensely lost in thought to have missed the takeoff.
“Relax. There’ll be plenty of time to discuss business during our stay. Let’s begin the trip by enjoying the short flight.”
Either she was exceedingly transparent or he’d just anticipated her jumping into things right away. Either way, she was perfectly willing to delay their discussion until she felt a little more on equal footing. Sitting here in such close proximity on his jet, drinking his wine … it was more than a little overwhelming.
His hand remained on hers, his thumb sliding idly over her knuckles in a soothing pattern. She liked it. She liked it too much.
Survive, Celia. Survive this weekend. Be a professional. After this weekend you’ll only have to see him in a business environment.
She swallowed and let calm descend. There was no way she’d screw this opportunity up just because she couldn’t get all her girly hormones in check.
The flight went quickly, and oddly, after the first awkward moments, Celia sat back and enjoyed the casual conversation with Evan. William had kept a steady presence to refill their wineglasses and offer a variety of finger foods. By the time they landed at the Airport in the Sky, Celia was limber and completely relaxed. Probably due to the wine.
They were met by a hotel representative and were quickly whisked into a waiting shuttle. It only took a few minutes to arrive at the gorgeous beachfront resort. It was so beautiful, it took her breath away.
The sunset over the water gave the place a decidedly romantic feel, but then they were here for a wedding, so Celia supposed it was only appropriate that romance positively danced on the air.
Evan escorted Celia through the glass doors into the lobby. A bellhop followed behind with a rolling cart that held their luggage.
“Wait right here,” Evan murmured. “Take a seat if you like. I’ll get our room keys so we can go up.”
Before he could go, a feminine voice rent the air.
“Evan! Oh, Evan, you’re here!”
Evan stiffened against Celia. He went positively rigid, and Celia could swear she heard him curse under his breath. Celia turned in the direction of the call and saw a regally dressed older woman hurrying across the lobby, her heels tapping delicately on the polished floor.
Behind her, a grim faced older gentleman flanked by a younger woman and a man who looked slightly younger than Evan, walked slower but with no less purpose in Evan’s direction.
To her surprise, Evan took her left hand in his and held it close to his side. He fumbled with her fingers even as he looked up with a welcoming smile. It looked completely forced to Celia, but the woman didn’t seem put off.
The woman threw her arms around Evan, and still, he didn’t let go of Celia’s hand. He returned her embrace with his free arm and said, “Hello, Mom. I told you I was coming.”
“I know, but after Bettina told me she’d been to see you and when she told me that …”
She broke off and looked curiously at Celia, whose hand was still securely held in Evan’s.
Then his mom looked back at Bettina, confusion clear in her eyes.
“But my dear, you told me that Evan wasn’t seeing anyone, that he just told me that to ease my concern.”
“Did she?” Evan asked in an even tone. He pinned Bettina with a stare that would have had Celia fidgeting.
His mom nudged him impatiently. “Well, introduce us, Evan.”
“Yes, do introduce us,” Bettina said in a chilly voice.
About the time she felt Evan’s grip on her hand tighten and the cool metal slide over her finger, Celia regretted having agreed to come. She tried to look down, wondering what Evan had done to her finger, but he kept his hand over hers. Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. She felt as if she’d just entered a minefield.
“Mom. Dad. Bettina. Mitchell.” His lips curled when he said the last and Celia zeroed in on the man in question. He had to be Evan’s brother. The similarity was striking. “I’d like you to meet—” His entire body tensed and he gripped her hand almost painfully. It was like he was sending her a silent message. “I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Celia Taylor.”
