The Billionaire's Bidding (10 page)

Emma nodded. She wasn't aware they had problems in Europe or the Caribbean.

“He's going after convention business and tour clubs.”

Emma couldn't hold her tongue completely. “Are you sure that's not too much togetherness?” She wanted Katie to be happy, truly she did. But there was something about this situation that made her uneasy. For Katie's sake. For the company's.

“You and Alex are going to work together,” said Katie.

“But Alex and I aren't—”

“Getting married.”

Emma jerked her thumb away from the ring. “Falling in love.”

“So? Love makes it easier for me and David to work together.”

Emma struggled to find fault with that logic. Technically, she supposed it should be true. Katie and David actually liked and respected each other. Where Alex and Emma couldn't come within ten feet without arguing or…worse.

Fingers spread, Katie raked her blond hair back over her forehead. “Quite frankly, Emma, if you're going to worry about anyone working together, I'd worry about you and Alex.”

Emma was already worried about that.

She resisted the urge to touch the ring again.

Quite frankly, she was getting more worried by the hour.

E
mma braced herself for Alex's entrance.

Her admin assistant, Jenny, had just spent three minutes warning of his arrival, an excited lilt to her voice as she watched him walk through the long office foyer and relayed his every move to Emma.

According to Jenny, Alex was wearing a charcoal suit, a black shirt and a silver-and-blue striped tie that picked up the sunshine through the skylights. He didn't look upset, but he didn't look particularly happy either. And, by the way, had Emma ever noticed the delicate cleft in his chin or the way his gray eyes sparkled silver in direct sunlight?

By the time Emma got off the intercom, she only had thirty seconds to smooth her blazer and brace herself for the onslaught of emotions that were sure to be brought on by his presence.

She'd stay on this side of the desk. He'd stay on that side. She wouldn't touch him, or smell him or look too closely into his eyes. And she would not touch that annoying diamond while he was in the room.

The oak door swung open, the air current swaying the leaves on her ponytail palm.

She came to her feet to face not happy, not angry Alex, with his sparkling silver eyes.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted for Jenny's benefit before he clicked the door shut behind him.

She drew a bracing breath. “Can I help you with something?” They hadn't made another appointment to meet, although she knew they had an endless number of things to work out.

“Brought you a present.”

Please, God. No more jewelry. Her right hand went to the ring before she remembered to jerk it back.

But he tossed an envelope on her desk. “Our prenup.”

She glanced at the thick manila envelope. “You wrote it without me?”

He eased down into one of her guest chairs. “Trust me.”

“Ha.” She peeled back the flap and took her own seat.

It was a single page, duly signed and notarized. Alex got half of McKinley upon their marriage, and if either of them initiated divorce proceedings within two years of the marriage, the other got ten percent of their net worth.

She looked up to see him smile. There wasn't a single thing she could complain about. It meant she couldn't have a relationship for a couple of years. But she'd expected that. If anything, the agreement favored her.

Then she set the paper down on her desk. “What exactly is your net worth?”

“Less than Nathaniel's. More than yours.”

“Who's Nathaniel?”

“My cousin. He'll be the best man.”

She glanced back down at the agreement. “You've already signed.”

“I have.”

“You're obviously not planning to divorce me anytime soon.”

“Not a chance.”

Emma picked up her phone and dialed the two-digit extension for Jenny's desk. “Can you bring somebody over from Legal?”

“Right away,” Jenny confirmed.

“Thanks.” Emma hung up the phone. “Probably be about five minutes,” she told Alex.

He nodded. “I hear you hired David Cranston.”

“Where'd you hear that?”

Alex shrugged. “I told you the hotel business was a tight-knit community.”

“Katie hired him,” said Emma, then she immediately regretted the admission.

“Without talking to you?”

Emma hesitated. “We talked.”

“You're lying.”

“I am not. And how dare you—”

“And you agreed to this?”

Emma compressed her lips.

Alex stared hard into her eyes. Despite her resolve, and despite the knowledge that she'd ramp up her unruly hormones, she gazed right back into his.

“She told you after the fact,” he guessed.

“But I wouldn't have stopped her.”

“But you don't like it.”

Emma stood up. “No,” she admitted, pacing toward the picture window. “I don't like it. But it's her relationship, her decision. And it's certainly none of your business.”

Alex stood. “Oh, yes it is.”

She turned. “You going to micromanage Katie's staff?”

“He's working directly
for
her?”

“Alex.”

Alex crossed the room to stand in front of Emma. “Between the two of us—”

“No,” she barked.

“You don't even know what I was going to say.”

Anger rising, she punctuated her words by poking him in the chest with her index finger. “Oh yes I do. And don't you ever
dare
suggest that we gang up on my sister. McKinley Inns doesn't work that way. I don't care who the hell you are.”

He trapped her hand. “It's a bad decision.”

“It's
her
decision.”

“And you're just going to stand there and watch her make it.”

“I am. And so are you.”

He moved closer. “I wouldn't be too quick to tell me what I am and am not going to do.”

Emma paused. She couldn't force him. But then he couldn't force her either. And a tie went to the status quo. Which meant the tie went to Katie in this case.

Emma didn't smile, but she came close.

But then she became aware of Alex's hand on hers. The warmth of his skin prickled its way into her bloodstream, and those appalling feelings of lust and longing surged to life inside her.

His voice dropped deep and throaty. “We're going to have to deal with it, you know.”

“With Katie?” she asked in a small voice, clinging to the slim hope that that's what he meant.

“With the fact that we turn each other on like original sin.”

“We do not,” she lied.

“Want me to prove it?”

She tried to step back, but he kept hold of her hand.

He smiled. “You really need to stop lying to me, you know.”

“You really need to develop some manners.”

“Yeah? Okay, how's this? Would you care to accompany me to a luau?”

“A luau?” The sudden switch left Emma's head spinning.

“Kessex Cruise Lines is launching a new ship, the
Island Countess,
specializing in Polynesian trips. We're invited to the launch party, and I thought you could wear the ruby-and-diamond choker.”

Emma had already resigned herself to being seen in public with Alex. She'd made a deal, and she was going to stick by it. Besides, being with him in public was quickly becoming a preferable choice to being with him in private.

In public she could pretend she was still pretending. She'd have an excuse to talk to Alex and laugh with Alex and touch Alex without examining the reasons why.

Doing those things in private forced her to admit she liked him. She even liked arguing with him. His self-confidence and strength of purpose made her feel…safe somehow.

And she trusted him. Probably not the smartest move in the world. But she had to trust somebody. And he was learning things about her that nobody else would ever see.

For now, for this moment in time, he was pivotal to her life. Not that she'd admit that to him. And not that she'd make things easy.

“You really think rubies and diamonds will go with orchid print cotton?” she asked.

“Hey, you want to look good or make your future husband happy?”

“Can't I do both?”

“Not in this case.”

They stared each other down for a long minute.

“Well?” he demanded.

She tilted her head sideways. “Don't you sometimes wish you'd picked the pretty one?”

“Watch it.”

“Watch what?” She was only joking. Besides, it was an acknowledged fact that Katie was the pretty one.

“Mess with me, and I'll make you admit I turn you on.”

“How do you plan—”

His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared.

She quickly backtracked. “Never mind.” Then she swallowed and squared her shoulders, voice going unnaturally sweet. “I
live
to make my future husband happy.”

He smiled and brushed her hair back from her temple. “There. Was that so hard? Friday at seven. And I'll bring the necklace.”

 

Climbing the short gangway to the
Island Countess,
Alex told himself everything was fine. He'd expected Emma to be a knockout in her deep-red, Hawaiian-print dress. And he'd expected the Garrison jewels to look stunning against the smooth honey tone of her throat. He'd even expected the sucker-punch sensation he was coming to associate with being in her presence.

What he hadn't expected was his burning desire to keep her all to himself.

Tonight was about parading her for the press, letting the other ladies ooh and ahh over the Tudor diamond on her finger, and solidifying their position as a couple with other players in the New York tourism industry, so that when Alex started representing McKinley, no eyebrows would be raised.

Trouble was, Alex couldn't bring himself to care about any of those things. There was a steel drum band playing by the pool on the aft sundeck, and all he wanted to do was hold Emma in his arms under the stars.

He knew she hated publicity, but she was doing it anyway. She hated deception, but she'd gone along with his scheme. And she probably hated him, but she was smiling up at him, holding his hand, and plastering her body against his for the benefit of photographer after photographer.

Until now, he hadn't given much thought to how much of a trooper she really was. There was an entire company being saved, her sister, the board, the executives and thousands of jobs. Yet, it was all on Emma's shoulders.

Had she complained?

Of course she had. But she'd made logical, reasonable arguments. She'd looked for options and solutions that would suit her better. But when she didn't find them, when Alex had prevented her from finding them, she'd bucked up and done what was needed.

He admired that.

He admired her.

He motioned to the glass elevator that ran up the five stories of the central atrium.

“Ready to go upstairs?” he whispered against her glistening chestnut hair. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, his gaze darting to the ruby earrings dangling from her delicate lobes.

His earrings.

He closed his hand over hers, letting the diamond press into his palm.

She leaned up to laugh in his ear. “You think they got enough pictures?”

“Absolutely. Besides, there'll be more photographers on the deck.”

She set her empty champagne glass on a waiter's tray. “Then, lead on.”

“You're awfully agreeable tonight.”

She smiled and waved to a cluster of brightly dressed women. “That's because I live to make you happy.”

“Seriously,” he said. “You're…” He wasn't quite sure how to put it into words. He finally came up with, “sparkling.”

“It's the rubies.”

He took the excuse to run his thumb over the bracelet on her wrist. “They suit you. But that wasn't what I meant.”

The elevator door opened in front of them, and they moved inside alone.

“Then it's the champagne,” she said, bracing her hands on the small railing and leaning back against the glass wall.

The posture brought the cotton fabric tight against her breasts, and Alex felt his body involuntarily take note. The dress was strapless and fitted, with a tie cinching up the waist and a narrow skirt delineating her hips before falling softly to just above her knees.

Most of the women had gone with island styles, the men sticking with casual slacks and open-collar shirts. Alex had gone with tan and buff, not being a fan of wearing palm fronds across his chest.

From the shine of her soft hair to the tips of her painted toenails, Emma looked like an island goddess.

“Are you drunk?” he asked. That might account for her relaxed mood.

She eased away from the wall, moving sinuously toward him, stopping to walk her fingertips up his chest and grasp the small lapels of his shirtfront. She shook her hair and gazed slumberously up into his eyes. “I'm acting, Alex. I thought that was what you were paying me for.”

He leaned down ever so slightly. “Well, you're very, very good.”

She smiled.

“Almost too good.”

Her expression faltered. “What's that supposed to—”

The door glided open to some new passengers, and he slipped his arm around her narrow waist. “Let's dance.”