To Catch a Billionaire

by Dana Stone

  The cup flew from her hands, landing with a splash. The pastry bag crushed flat as Cam blundered against his hard body.

  “Oh, excuse me,” she blurted and looked into Tristan Forsyth’s face. Though rattled, her skin warmed when she saw who she’d run into. The instant Erin looked into his eyes, so like those in the video she’d watched, she was lost.

  “No, excuse me, lass,” he murmured, catching hold of her arms to steady her.

  Her sunglasses had been knocked askew. Cam straightened them before brushing strands of hair back from her face. She smiled nervously. His accent and smile had disarmed her completely. “I didn’t spill my latte on you, did I?”

  “Not at all. The cup landed a good distance away.” His brogue was distinctive, his deep dimples charming... and those eyes, well, they were all-seeing and oh, so sexy.

  Jittery, she stepped away from his touch, and smoothed her suit. A staff member mopped puddled latte from the floor and off the shelves. Before she could think what to do next, she heard Forsyth say, “Lass, they’ve poured another drink for you.”

  Cam turned, took the latte Tristan offered and mumbled her thanks. She glanced at Stuart, the clerk who generally had her drink ready when she walked in every morning, and smiled.

  “Thanks, Stuart. You’re a sweetheart.”

  His thin face held a wide grin as he gave her a wink. “You’re welcome, Cam. See you tomorrow.”

  Without another word to Forsyth, Cam strode to her VW and drove off as if the devil was hot on her rear bumper. She took the back streets and reached the gallery before even taking a sip of latte. All the while she worried over Forsyth’s ability to rattle her to the core and how he generated an unfamiliar sexual need in her, without even trying. His smile alone was enough to turn her bones to jelly. This attraction she felt for him had her rattled. How would she thwart his attempts at a take-over if she wanted to give herself to him and her body’s inclination was to tear off his clothes and screw the daylights out of him?

  Heaving a sigh, she shut down the Jetta and sauntered into the gallery by way of the employee entrance. Her desk phone rang insistently as she entered her office.

  “Good morning,” Meredith softly greeted her.

  “So far it hasn’t been stellar, Meredith, but good morning. What’s up?”

  “There’s someone here insisting on seeing Ms. Cameron. He refuses to make an appointment and Ms. Cameron isn’t answering her phone. Would you like to deal with him?” Meredith murmured into the phone.

  Annoyed that her day was off to a bad start, Cam uttered, “Fine, I’ll be right out.” Cam checked her calendar. Christopher Medellin had an appointment to discuss his exhibit at ten. With a glance at her watch, Cam realized the man must have arrived early.

  She swigged down a mouthful of latte and headed for Meredith’s reception station. She’d no sooner turned the corner when she choked back a yelp of surprise. Instead of Christopher Medellin, she gaped at Tristan Forsyth – so much for the predicted late afternoon meeting.

  With determination, Cam summoned her courage and strode toward the duo. Meredith appeared flustered. Tristan walked to and fro, flicking his fingers as though he’d washed but not dried them. His body language showed his impatience, and the gesture seemed odd.

  She smiled and said lightly, “Can I help you with something?”

  He swung toward her and his eyes widened with surprise.

  “We meet again,” Cam said with a chuckle.

  She watched as he looked her over from head to toe, noting how his luscious lips tightened a tad.

  “You aren’t Erin Cameron.”

  With a soft laugh, Cam adjusted her glasses and said, “Right you are. I’m her assistant, Cam Boucher. Do you have an appointment with Ms. Cameron?”

  His expression a bit disconcerting, he said, “I figured she’d be here, so I just stopped in.”

  Cam held her ground though his intense gaze left her uneasy. “Ms. Cameron won’t be in at all today. She has business elsewhere. What can I do to for you?” she asked. She glanced up at him and all thoughts of work disappeared. He was just so good looking. Instead of dismissing him, her mind wandered into dangerous ground. What it would feel like to throw caution to the wind and invite him into her office for a quickie? Maybe even slam him onto the top of her desk, rip his clothes off and have wild, passionate sex for a few hours.

  Steady, keep your mind on business.

  Forsyth, as if he’d read her mind, stepped closer and asked, “Do for me? That depends. What are the options?” A good head and shoulders taller than Cam, he peered past her toward the gallery proper.

  She turned and invited him to join her while she made the gallery rounds. She could smell the woody tang of his Bulgari Cologne. Sensual heat seemed to roll in waves from his body and wash over hers...

  Cam struggled to stay focused on business. This man was her enemy, and would never be her lover. Though, he’d surely be a nice snack.

  “Have you worked here long, Ms. Boucher?”

  “It’s pronounced Booshay, but call me Cam. I’ve been here for quite some time. What’s your business with Erin, Mr. Forsyth?” she asked innocently.

  “Then call me Tristan.” His flirtatious smile wasn’t lost on her, and again she struggled to keep her mind and wits about her.

  Cam repeated, “And your business is?” They’d stopped before David Hatton’s “Coming Home” painting. Cam gazed at the soft hues that led to bold colors drawing the eye downward. The scene painted on the lower third of the canvas thrilled her every time she saw it.

  “You display the work of many talented contemporary artists here. I’m impressed,” Tristan remarked as he swept his hand toward the work of Susan Elliot and Miya Ando.

  “We do. These are but a few of the artists we have on display. They’re the newest additions to the gallery. Are you interested in acquiring some of them, Tristan?” Cam threw out the bait and waited to reel him in.

  “I’d rather acquire the gallery itself,” he answered with sincerity.

  Bluntly, she replied, “It’s not for sale.”

  His sly smile should have warned her, but Tristan’s sexual magnetism enveloped her. “That’s not what I’ve heard,” he said smoothly.

  She smiled at his bantering tone. “What have you heard, Mr. Forsyth?” Cam wondered who had said she’d be open to selling her family’s business, and why he’d believed it. Surely a man as worldly as Tristan would investigate the state of any business he wished to acquire.

  “Tristan, please,” he said.

  “Fine, Tristan, then. Where would you ever get an idea like that? This gallery has been in the Cameron family for generations and isn’t about the change hands now,” Cam said softly. Her husky voice was difficult to disguise. Only by speaking softly and at a higher pitch could she fool listeners like Forsyth. She persisted because he needed to know pursuit of this gallery’s acquisition was useless.

  As he moved on to the next area, Cam had a clear view of his long-legged stride, wide shoulders and the dark hair that touched the edge of his shirt collar. His suit jacket covered his butt... Cam forgot about the gallery as she wondered if his ass was as tight as the rest of him.

  Focus, now. The command pushed her errant thoughts away and grounded her.

  “When will Ms. Cameron be available?”

  “Not for a few days, at least,” Cam assured him. “As I said, she has other business to attend to at the moment.”

  “Too bad, I’d like to make her an offer for this,” he said waving his hand to encompass all.

  “The gallery isn’t for sale. Not now and not in the future. I’m sure. I can guarantee that I would be the first to know,” Cam ventured.

  “Really? You know Ms. Cameron that well? She’d take you so thoroughly into her confidence?”

  Apprehensive about his line of questioning, Cam took in his keen stare and nodded. “She most certainly would, since I handle the everyday running of this gallery.”

 
“Are you so sure? I have an assistant, but when I’m about to make a life-altering decision, I speak to no one until I’m comfortable with the ins and outs of what I’m considering.”

  Wary that he might have caught on to the fact that Erin and Cam were one and the same, Cam sidestepped the issue with a glance at her watch. “I must be getting back. I have an appointment in ten minutes, so if you’ll excuse me?”

  His dark brows rose. “Go ahead, lass. I’ll take another look around. I’ll speak to, uh...” Tristan paused thoughtfully and then said, “Meredith on my way out.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll be sure to tell Ms. Cameron of your visit when she calls in.” With that, Cam turned on her heel and left his range of vision. Once she’d entered the high-columned corridor, she leaned against a thick marble pillar and blew a sigh of relief. He hadn’t answered her question concerning what he’d heard, but he had sent her scurrying away like a frightened rabbit. Get a grip on yourself, or you’ll lose everything.

  Unwilling to allow her thoughts to tumble one over another, Cam focused on her meetings with artisans. The day was filled to the brim.

  She didn’t see Forsyth leave.

  Chapter 2

  “DANGEROUS, THE MAN is dangerous and undoubtedly cunning,” Erin whined that evening, while Mrs. Hardy scooped leftovers onto a plate.

  “Now, now, it can’t be that bad. He’s just a man, nothing more. Look at how you handled that Winters fellow two years ago. By gosh, you chewed him up and spit him into the wind before he knew what happened. Mr. Forsyth can’t be any worse, Erin,” Mrs. Hardy said reassuringly.

  Her assurances were sound, but Erin knew she could never tell Mrs. Hardy how hot and bothered Tristan made her. Just being in close proximity to him was enough to make her cream her undies. She’d struggled to resist tearing her clothes and wig off and throwing herself at him. Cripes, how the hell was she supposed to fend off somebody she found irresistible?

  “Eat your supper,” Mrs. Hardy urged. “I brought the mail in for you. I believe there’s an invitation, from The Metropolitan Museum, in the pile. You’ll be going, won’t you?”

  New York City Metropolitan Museum was among Erin’s favorites. At sixteen years old, Erin had strolled through the museum, enjoying each exhibit every weekend for a full summer. She’d driven her parents mad with worry when she’d managed to get locked in by security after the museum closed one day. She’d been in the restroom, unaware of the time.

  When she’d realized she was the only tourist inside the fascinating museum, Erin had seen it as an opportunity and studied the art exhibits until the security alarm went wild. Cops and security guards had taken her into custody and called her parents. Erin smiled at the memory of being grounded for a month after the incident. It had been worth it, though.

  Tearing the envelope open, she read the invitation. Her heartbeat quickened over whose art was being displayed and who the lender was. Her eyebrows rose when she read that Tristan Forsyth would be offering works from his gallery in Spain for display during the event and had been posted as the guest of honor. The dirty rotten shit.

  Slumped in her chair, Erin knew the man was making his stand. He was working to become part of the New York art crowd, if he wasn’t already. He’d play the who’s who game with the rich and famous. She shook her head in dismay. When she inherited her parents’ modest wealth, Erin still wasn’t rich, but she was no slouch when it came to holding her own with those big names that bandied their even bigger checkbooks about. She simply disliked having to do so, especially now that the checkbook had taken a downturn. The idea of walking the red carpet and being on display was anathema to her. Surely she could arrive late, make a brief appearance and scoot back home? That plan was appealing.

  She tossed the invitation onto the table. “I’ll respond to this in the morning. It can’t hurt to go, even if Tristan Forsyth will be the guest-du-jour,” she groused.

  When Mrs. Hardy didn’t utter a sound, Erin glanced at her. The older woman’s face held an all-knowing grin. A grin that Erin had seen before and meant Mrs. Hardy thought Erin was more than interested in Tristan. “I see that look on your face. I’m not intrigued by Tristan. Not now, not ever,” Erin insisted.

  “If you say so, my dear,” Mrs. Hardy said innocently. “Now, what will you wear to this affair?”

  “I’m not sure what’s hanging in the closet. I might take a ride into New York and buy something new. On the other hand, maybe Giorgio has something ready that I can wear.” Giorgio Santino, a clothing designer she had assisted when making his name in New York’s rag industry, owed Erin a favor, a big favor.

  She jumped from the chair, pulled her cellphone from her purse and hit his number on speed dial.

  “Giorgio.” The cultured voice filtered into her ear.

  “I knew you’d answer when you saw my number, I’m wondering if you have anything spectacular available in my size... And how would you like to be my date next week?” Erin asked.

  A squeal of delight met her request. “You’re going to the Museum Opening, aren’t you? Of course you are, how silly of me to ask. You need evening wear, am I right? I’ve got the perfect thing for you. Come to the studio and I’ll fit you. Tomorrow afternoon is a good time, see you then.” The line went dead.

  She laughed, set the phone aside and said to Mrs. Hardy, “Short and sweet as ever. Giorgio is going to fit me tomorrow. I’ll be late getting back from the city, so take the day off. I’ll grab dinner before I head home. I’m sure Giorgio will have a lot to say while I’m there.”

  Agreeable to unexpected time off, Mrs. Hardy wished Erin luck and told her to take care on the highway. “Which car will you be taking? Your Volvo isn’t ready yet.”

  “The Porsche will do nicely, it’s a dream to drive. I’d take the Jetta, but I wouldn’t want anyone to see me in Cam’s car. Especially if I happen to run into Tristan, like I did early this morning at Starbucks.” Her thoughts drifted back to their abrupt meeting at the coffee house, her reaction to him and then her rapid escape.

  Mrs. Hardy stopped wiping the counter and asked, “You didn’t mention that.”

  With a chuckle, Erin told her of the episode. “He was shocked when we met at the gallery. You’re right about him being a rake. He looked me over like I was lunch.”

  “And, were you?”

  “Uh, no.” Erin snickered. “I wasn’t lunch, a snack – or anything like that. Don’t get any ideas, Mrs. Hardy,” Erin warned with a grin.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Mrs. Hardy remarked with a sly glance. She smoothed her dish towel and hung it on a peg. “I’m off to the cinema with Mary Crowley this evening. Will you need anything else before I leave?”

  “I’m all set. You run along and enjoy yourself. I’ll see you in the morning,” Erin said.

  The two women parted in the foyer, Erin striding toward her in-home office and Mrs. Hardy heading for the front door. Alone, Erin stretched and tousled her hair, relieved at the lightness she felt after discarding Cam’s persona. She’d removed her breast bindings as soon as she arrived and changed into a pair of lounge pants and a thin-strapped silk top. Curled into a chair with a file of photos, Erin skimmed them until a knock on the door jostled her back to the present. Thinking Mrs. Hardy had forgotten her keys, Erin hurried to open the door.

  “Good evening, Ms. Cameron,” Tristan murmured appreciatively as he took in her appearance.

  Thankful for having discarded her entire disguise upon her return home Erin eyed him warily without offering him entry.

  “And you would be?” she asked in a rude, husky tone.

  “Tristan Forsyth, at your service,” he said with an exaggerated bow accompanied by a charming grin.

  “Ah, yes, my assistant told me she’d met you. She also said you were quite insistent that we meet face to face. I do think taking the liberty of coming to my home, uninvited, is a bit much, though, don’t you?”

  The gleam in his eyes spoke volumes. He had no intention of backi
ng off and going away like she wished he would – not this man. He’d push the envelope, she was certain of it.

  His dimpled smile, disarming as it had been earlier when she’d met him as Cam, put her on guard. Erin held the door firmly in her grasp.

  “Your assistant is quite interesting. She doesn’t allow anyone to tread on her toes or yours. You’re lucky to have her, Ms. Cameron.”

  She shrugged. “Cam is a valued employee with exceptional standards. She does her job well.”

  “I’m curious as to your work relationship with her. She was quite abrupt when I mentioned I was interested in purchasing your gallery.”

  “Cam mentioned you wanted to make an offer.”

  Erin noted his glance into the foyer behind her. “Are you going to leave me standing on the doorstep or will you invite me inside? I don’t bite, you know.”

  More’s the pity, were the first words to jump into her thoughts as she stayed put. “It isn’t a convenient time, you might try catching me at the gallery.” Erin stepped back and swung the door forward. Tristan blocked its closure with his foot.

  “We have business to discuss, Ms. Cameron. If you’ll let me in, I promise not to take much of your time.”

  The gleam in Tristan’s eyes held a touch of mischief, which added to his attractiveness.

  Wondering what his angle was concerning the gallery, Erin beckoned him in. “You have five minutes, Mr. Forsyth.”

  She hid a smile as she watched him study the foyer, glance up the staircase and then turn to her.

  “This is a beautiful home. You live here alone?” Tristan asked with raised brows.

  “It is, and I don’t,” Erin said as she motioned him toward the formal sitting room. The first floor consisted of formal and informal sitting rooms, a massive library Erin used as an office, a formal dining room and a kitchen. The kitchen was the most and best-used room in the house. Several bedrooms filled the upstairs, each with a private bath. Her grandfather had spared no expense when he’d had the enormous home built. Erin’s father had also updated it over time.