The Billionaire’s Bidding

Seven

Emma 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.”

Without waiting for a response, he drew her into his arms, and they joined dozens of other couples under the stars, swaying to the calypso beat.

Her movements matched his, stiff at first, but then she found his rhythm. He snuggled her closer, pressing her hips to his thighs. She was just the right size, just the right shape, just the right height to be a perfect partner.

His thoughts turned to movements of a sexual nature, speculating on how perfect things could be between them. Of course, he was only talking about sex, not about life. Life with Emma was going to be a challenge from the minute he got up in the morning to the minute he went to bed at night.

Alone.

Because their marriage wasn’t about intimacy. It was about convenience. And for the first time, Alex wondered if Mrs. Nash might be right. He didn’t really like the thought of a cold, lonely death.

Nor did he like the thought of a cold, lonely bed. In fact, he didn’t like the thought of a bed with anyone in it but Emma at the moment.

Which was impossible, in so many ways.

But she was in his arms now.

He closed his eyes and gathered her to him, tipping his head to the crook of her neck, inhaling her scented skin and letting the smooth, warmed gems of her necklace rub against his cheek. A camera flash penetrated his lids. And even though it was what he wanted, he resented the intrusion.

He danced Emma to a quieter corner of the ship’s deck, where the lights were dim and the music was muted by wind baffles.

She tilted back her head and stared at the panorama of stars above them. “A romantic tryst for the press?”

“Something like that.” He focused on the smooth skin, delicate neck.

She thought they were playacting? What the hell?

He leaned down and feathered a kiss on her collarbone, just below his necklace.

He heard her quick intake of breath, so he tried another one, this time on her shoulders, working his way slowly backward, then up toward the lobe of her ear, which he drew gently into his mouth.

Her fingers dug into his, and he splayed his hand wide on the small of her back, bringing her tight against him as his mouth sought hers.

Their bodies knew each other’s this time. There was no fumbling, not the slightest hesitation. Their lips met full on. Their mouths opened. And their tongues parried in a way that sent sparks shooting straight to Alex’s groin.

This was a bad idea.

No. This was a great idea. What it was, was a bad location for a great idea.

They were screened from the crowd at the moment, but that could change. All it would take is one rogue reporter or one straying couple, and they’d be caught in a compromising position.

Not that he’d compromised her yet.

He was only kissing her.

But judging by her quiet moans, and the way his hand was inching down her bottom, it was only a matter of minutes.

He dragged himself back.

She blinked in confusion, her lips red and swollen, her eyes clouded with passion.

“I want to show you something,” he whispered.

He led her past the deck chairs, through an air-lock door, up a small staircase to the Empress Deck and the door to a vista suite. There he inserted the card key.

“What’s this?” she asked.

He opened the narrow door. “The captain thought we might like to freshen up.”

Emma walked inside, glancing around at the dining table, the sofa cluster and wet bar. “But there are no reporters in here.” She looked back at Alex in confusion.

Had she really been acting the whole time?

He couldn’t believe it.

“The veranda,” he quickly improvised. “It overlooks the party.”

He crossed the spacious room and pressed a button to pull back the drapes. He’d back off from the seduction plan. Really, nothing ventured nothing gained.

The drapes slid out of the way to reveal a huge, wraparound veranda with views of the portside pool, the ocean and the New York skyline.

He opened the two French doors, letting in the night air and calypso music and party laughter. “Nothing like a clandestine telephoto lens shot to convince people we’re in love.”

Emma peered through the doorway at the crowds dancing one deck below. “You’re frighteningly conniving, you know that?”

He reached for her hand, muttering under his breath. “You don’t know the half of it.” Then louder. “Shall we get cozy on the double lounger?”

She stepped outside on her strappy sandals, her dress billowing gently around shapely legs. “Why not. You think they’d bring us up one of those pineapple drinks?”

“You got it,” said Alex, picking up the phone to push the button for the butler.

Emma felt much safer out on the veranda than inside the suite with Alex. She’d thought, planned, hoped to spend the entire evening in a crowd of people. And she sure hadn’t counted on Alex going for quite so much realism. Those kisses had all but sizzled her toes.

When she thought about it though, it made perfect sense. A newly engaged couple wouldn’t stay in the thick of the party all night long. They’d steal away for a kiss or two in private. Letting the press spot them on the suite’s veranda was inspired.

She sat down on the thick padding of the double lounger and kicked off the tight high heels she’d borrowed from Katie. The dress was Katie’s, too. While Emma was well outfitted for business events, she’d never built up her party and vacation wardrobe. Luckily, she and Katie were the same size.

Alex set a tall, frosted glass on the mini table beside her. “One frozen Wiki Waki.”

“You made that up.”

He held up a hand. “Swear it’s true. That’s what they’re serving at the party.”

The frost slipped against Emma’s fingers as she lifted the glass and stirred the mixture with the straw. It was crisp and tangy on her tongue, and the blend of liquors definitely left an afterglow.

The cushion shifted as Alex sat down.

“What have you got?” she asked.

“Glenroddich on the rocks.”

“Wrong hemisphere.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes. “That’s as exotic as I get.”

She smirked, wiggling her bare toes in the cool ocean breeze. “I knew you’d be a dud as soon as I saw the outfit.”

He opened one eye. “You messing with me again?”

She took another sip of the tropical drink. “I’m merely entertaining myself while we pose for the photographers.”

“By playing mind games with me?”

“Afraid I’ll win?”

He snorted and closed his eyes again. “Afraid you might sprain something trying.”

Emma glanced at his slacks, then she glanced at her slushy drink.

He made a show of settling back to a more comfortable position. “But, go ahead and give it your best shot.”

“Really?” she simpered. “Can I?”

He grinned, and she upended her drink in his lap.

He shot up straight, his roar loud enough to attract attention from the dancers directly below them. Then he turned to stare at her in horror.

“That was my best shot,” she explained, scrambling for the courage to hold her ground. Dousing him had seemed like a good idea about ten seconds ago. Now…

“I can’t believe you did that.” He gritted his teeth as the sticky peach-colored mixture trickled between his thighs.

“You might want to make it look like we’re having fun,” she suggested with a quick glance at the crowd below.

Alex curved his mouth into a pained grin. “You asked for this.”

Without further warning, he scooped her up, and sat her square in the middle of the mess on his lap.

“It’s Katie’s dress,” she shrieked. Then she cringed as the ice seeped through her panties.

His fingertips went to her ribs, and she shrieked a second time when he started tickling. “Don’t,” she gasped. “Stop.”

“Don’t stop?”

“No. Stop!”

“Try to sound like you’re having fun,” he advised.

“No.” But she kept laughing. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t sure where he’d learned to tickle, but he was definitely a master.

“Help,” she called weakly to the crowd below.

But they couldn’t hear her over the music.

Alex’s hands suddenly stilled, but it was only to lift her from the lounger and carry her unceremoniously back through the French doors.

He set her down and closed it to the whoops and hollers of those below.

“What did I tell you?” he asked, eyes flashing dark and purposeful in the dusky suite.

“About what?” She took an involuntary step backward.

He matched her pace, keeping the distance constant between them. “About messing with me, that’s about what.”

His meaning hit, and she scooted up against the wall. “Oh, no.” She shook her head.

He moved forward, trapping her between the sofa and the wet bar. “Oh, yes,” he said menacingly. “It’s a matter of pride now.”

Her glance darted to his ruined trousers. “You already got me back.” Her dress was just as wet as his pants.

He shook his head. “Not good enough. Admit I turn you on, Emma.”

She knew she should say it. She should say it and get it over with. He’d make good on his threat, that was for sure. And ten kisses from now, she’d be admitting the earth was flat and that she was a witch, never mind that he turned her on.

But she shook her head anyway. She couldn’t bring herself to go down without a fight. He might get her admission, but he was going to have to work for it.

He moved even closer, his voice instantly seductive. “You know I’ll do it.”

She nodded.

“You want me to do it?”

She shook.

He raised his hand and tenderly stroked his palm over her cheek, tangling his fingers into the hair behind her temple. “You think you have a hope in hell?”

She stared defiantly up at him. “I know I have a hope in hell.”

He cracked a half smile. “Just one?”

“Maybe two.”

“I do like those odds.”

She almost smiled in return and wondered why she wasn’t more wary of the situation. Maybe it was his soothing tone, or his reassuring strength or his comforting scent. Or maybe it was because she was looking forward to his kiss.

His kiss? Who was she kidding?

She was looking forward to anything and everything he’d do before she said uncle. Confidence mounting, she stared directly into his slate dark eyes. “Go ahead, Alex. Give it your best shot.”