by Judy Teel
The need to justify herself and tell them this was all about getting married, crawled up her throat and scratched to get out. She clamped her teeth down on the words. She was not going to spill her personal problems to a pack of strangers.
"It's not what you think," she ground out, glaring at Ryan.
"We're creating the illusion of desirability." His white teeth flashed in a sudden, forced smile that he aimed at each of his friends. "CK needs a husband fast and you're here to sell the concept to the public. Be charming. Be mesmerized. Give CK the best you got. She's paying."
"Cool. I'll marry her," Moppy Hair said.
"I can't believe you said that," she hissed at Ryan, outrage boiling through her.
The other men focused on them, stone-faced for a moment. Steampunk turned to Dark Eyes. "He really thinks we're going to fall for that?"
"He hasn't pranked us in a long time," Dark Eyes said. "Not as funny as it used to be."
"Growing up is hell," Ajax said.
"Singing telegram people?" Dark Eyes speculated.
"Nah."
"I bet she's with one of those stripper groups," Mr. Cocky purred as he leaned in toward CK.
She shoved him back, hard. "Oh, my gosh. Let it go. I'm not interested." She narrowed her eyes at the rest of them. "I'm also not a stripper." She choked a little on the word, her fury tightening. "My grandfather will absolutely cut me off if I don't get married in a month. Ryan is helping me and I have no interest whatsoever in any of you, so get that scared possom-in-the-headlights look off your faces and grow up."
Silence landed on the table like a cement block. The men gaped at her.
Steampunk's eyebrows rose above the rims of his glasses. "Wow."
"It's really her," Dark Eyes said.
"Balls of Steel chick," Ajax added, smiling. "Just like Ryan said."
"Balls of...." CK gritted her teeth and tried to get her temper under control. "You are so not getting a bonus for this job, Anderson."
He shrugged. "I said it after the ChesterCo buy out. At the time, it was a complement."
"CK your real name?" Dark Eyes asked her. "Cute."
"Triple cute," Moppy Hair chimed in.
"A grown woman is not—" she started to protest.
"What's CK stand for?" Steampunk asked.
Moppy Hair raised his hand. "I know! I know! Certified Knockout!"
CK's eyebrows went up. "Seriously?"
The group looked at him. He gazed back with wide, innocent hazel eyes. "What? I was gonna say something else, but she'd call off the wedding." He angled his hand to his mouth and leaned toward Steampunk. "Women hate the word I was gonna use."
She'd had enough of this farce.
Why she'd thought it would be fun to have men think of her as a desirable woman was beyond her. The truth was, being lusted after made her a little nauseous and being seen as an object wasn't nearly fun as she'd imagined. Worse, it was humiliating.
CK glanced toward the bar. The atmosphere of the club with its soft red and dark purple lighting and intimate groupings of tables had seemed so elegant when she'd walked in. Now it all seemed lurid and cheap to her.
Her throat tightened. Time to find Farley and get out. She didn't care that retreat meant Ryan had won this round. She just wanted this over with.
Ryan braced his arms on the table and considered her for a moment. "What does CK stand for?"
"It stands for 'We're done here.'" CK started to push to her feet. The weight of Ryan's hand landed on her bare shoulder.
The warmth of his palm seared through her skin, sending a flare of energy arching into her nervous system. Alarm chased after it.
"Don't manhandle me," she snapped, pushing his hand roughly off of her. She glared at Moppy Hair, the turmoil of her emotions gathering into an aching pressure in her throat. "And don't ever refer to me in terms of a wedding. Unless you want to find yourself nursing a broken nose."
"Definitely not interested," Dark Eyes commented, mildly.
"But you gotta love a woman with fire in her eyes," Mr. Cocky said, genuine interest lighting his expression.
"It's the fire up her butt that worries me," Ryan said, sourly.
Heat spread across her face, again, and the lump in her throat tightened. To her horror, tears suddenly welled up in her eyes.
"Now you've done it, moron," Steampunk said.
Mr. Cocky's predatory expression instantly morphed into panicked apology. "No, no, no. Don't cry. I'm not always a dog." He thrust his hand in front of her. "Brad DeJoiner. Let's start over."
She bit down on her lip, willing the tears to stop, and blindly reached out to accept his handshake. Dark Eyes stood up and pushed Brad's hand away.
Clasping her palm in a friendly grip, he flashed her a bright smile. "Jackson Zimmer. He is always a dog and girl, I like your style."
Brad eased her hand out of Jackson's and lightly kissed the back of it. "Ignore him. I practice law in L.A. He's nothing but a history professor."
Bemused, she watched the two men while she tried to pull her hand free of Brad's. What had just happened? A moment ago she felt like a piece of meat, now they were treating her like a princess.
Across the table, Steampunk gave her a wave. "Todd Avery, music producer. And this is Ajax." He thrust his thumb toward Moppy Hair. "He's one of our eccentric millionaires."
"How...nice for him," she said, her tears receding on the tidal wave of friendly male attention. She reviewed the last few moments in her mind.
She'd threatened them with bodily harm and now they were being civilized? Men were very...strange. She blinked. "Did you say, one of your millionaires?"
Brad stroked his thumb across her knuckles. "You have amazing eyes, has anyone told you that?" he asked in a low, smooth voice. "Like lilacs."
"Um, thanks?" She gave a determined yank against his grip. Her fingers popped free and her elbow smacked into Ryan's face behind her.
"Ow, damn it," he said, rubbing his nose.
"She warned you not to manhandle her," Brad observed, laughter edging his voice.
"You were doing the manhandling," Ryan muttered.
"You deserved it for embarrassing me in front of your friends." She smiled at the other men. "I'm CK, by the way. Just CK," she added, looking pointedly at Ajax. "President and CEO of Kazners Herbal Products." Her smile faltered. "At least for now."
Jackson rested his elbows on the table. "So, just CK." His dark eyes studied her with open pleasure. "Tell us exactly how a fine woman like yourself has come to rely on an idiot like Ryan to catch you a husband."
CHAPTER FIVE
Wayland blew through the lobby of the five-star hotel where his son always ate dinner on Thursday nights. He paused on the threshold of the restaurant, the blonde beside him clinging tightly to his arm.
He scanned the busy restaurant and quickly spotted his son sitting in the far corner. With focused concentration, the boy meticulously cut a bite from his broiled salmon, carefully placed it in his mouth, and then turned back to the iPad propped up in front of him.
He nearly cried at the sight.
A son of his, in his prime, spending the evening with a bunch of business reports. Where had he gone wrong?
One thing was clear. This intervention was coming none too soon. Nodding to the maitre d' as he passed, he advanced on his son.
"Hey, kiddo," he said, cheerfully. "Got some news for you." He looked down at his date. "Go powder your nose, darlin'. This won't take a minute."
She glanced at Steve and then wandered off without a word of complaint. Once she was gone, he sat down.
"Guess who I saw going into Crazy Tom's?" he said, helping himself to Steve's untouched roll.
An exasperated frown flickered over Steve's face. "Why would I be the least bit interested in the patrons of that notorious singles establishment?"
"You might, seein' as how things are adding up to disaster."
Steve shifted his attention off the iPad. "What do you mean?"
> "Where's the blasted butter?"
"I never use it and neither should you." Steve took the bread out of his hand and placed it on his empty salad plate. "If you'd follow your doctor's recommendations, you'd live longer," he scolded.
Wayland eyed the salmon in front of his son. "Already look like an old alley cat. I'll be danged if I'm gonna smell like one, too."
He reached for the roll just as a server appeared to refill Steve's water. The ornery kid handed the waiter the salad plate and off it went.
"Now what is so earth-shattering that you felt compelled to interrupt my dinner?" he asked.
Wayland scanned the table hoping for something edible. "Saw CK and that secretary of hers going into Crazy Tom's. Seen Anderson in there earlier. I'm thinkin' that boy might have some ideas regarding your girl."
"CK is not my girl," Steve said, solidly, and then his eyes narrowed. "Are you here to suggest I chase after her?"
"Not suggesting anything. But there sure ain't nothin' wrong with a man having a little fun now and then at a club known for its...well, known."
"I fail to see why I should be concerned about CK and her personal life."
The kid was stubborner than a mule. Had no idea what it was like to be alone with the years rolling by. "Connect the dots, boy. CK comes out of her office all mussed the other afternoon. Then she's trotting off to meet a man who has more fillies in his stable than an Arab prince. All work and no play builds up a lot of pressure."
"Again, not my business."
Wayland released a frustrated breath. "The merger, boy, the merger. It's obvious she's losing focus."
About to touch the screen of his iPad, Steve paused to study him. "Go on."
"Not sayin' I blame her, mind you. She's young and healthy. Not much of a social life, far as I can see. Her bomb's been ticking steadily away and now that it's about to explode, and not really understanding the problem, she turns to Miss Farley for guidance—"
"Not the best of mentors, I've perceived."
Wayland casually pilfered a breadstick out of the cut glass container in the center of the table. "Anderson, being the kind of guy he is, finds he can't resist the lure of a pressurized woman and figures he's just the boy to light her fuse. Then, being that CK ain't exactly the sophisticated party type, she finds herself swept away by it all. A night or two later, she's broken-hearted, embarrassed, and so distracted by her terrible mistake that she can't focus another minute on what's important."
"The merger."
"Bingo." He risked a glance at his son and was gratified to see a frown of concern on Steve's face.
"Scandal can be mighty distractin'. Think of the news coverage." He sniffed the breadstick and wrinkled his nose at the dry, tasteless smell. Dropping it back into the decanter, he studied his son. "Catch my drift?"
"Are you saying CK's sudden interest in, well, the distractions of the opposite gender, could slow the merger proceedings?"
"Wouldn't be at all surprised. Women have needs, son. Can't deny them forever."
"The timing couldn't be worse."
"Maybe you should go over to the club and check things out. For the good of both companies."
"We are at a crucial juncture."
"Get her mind off Anderson. It's the only way."
"CK's complete focus is essential," his son agreed. His eyes lit with a fire Wayland thought he'd never live to see. "You're right. I'll do it."
"Halleluiah." Wayland slapped his son on the shoulder. "I won't wait up."
* * *
The Crazy Tom's DJ switched music and filled the club with a nostalgic love song that grated on Ryan's nerves. With his thumb, he caught a drop of condensation as it slid down his nearly full glass of ale. Dissatisfaction chewed steadily on his gut.
She'd worn a dress that made her look amazing, won over his friends, and made a discouraging amount of progress with her socializing skills. If that wasn't bad enough, even his fallback had failed. She looked so classy and sexy all rolled into one that not a guy in the place had worked up the nerve to ask her to dance. All the awkward touching and small talk that went into dancing with strangers had been his last hope.
"So, my sergeant said to me, 'You got the promotion when you sat down at the computer instead of the adding machine,'" Jackson concluded.
Everyone laughed. Ryan frowned.
"Heads up, marketing team," Todd said in a low voice. "Potential suitor at four o'clock."
Peering at his watch, Ajax gave it a sharp tap with his finger. "Sure does fly, man," he said as he reset it.
Brad shook his head. "Jeez, Ajax, good thing you don't need to work."
Ryan and every guy around them watched as a young man headed toward CK. The kid was barely twenty-one if he was a day; medium height, beefy build, slightly drunk. If she accepted him, it would break the ice and she'd be swamped with requests. Maybe the evening could be salvaged.
The kid stopped next to CK and went for the confident grin approach. His gaze swept around the table and when it landed on Ryan, his smile faltered. "Um. Would the lady like to dance?"
"Are you asking him, or me?" CK said in that snooty way she had when she was embarrassed or scared.
"She'd love to." Ryan grasped her elbow and tried to urge her to her feet.
The guy's face brightened. "Cool."
CK shook off his grip and settled back in the chair. "She would not. Thank you, anyway."
Ryan reached for her, again. "Sure, she would."
She slapped his hand away. "The lady decides who she dances with and when."
Sweat trickled down the kid's temple and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Sensing disaster, Ryan gave him an apologetic smile. "She'll dance wi—"
But he'd already fled, darting off like a scared rabbit back to his table. Ryan's friends burst out laughing and suddenly every guy in the place was turning around and pretending CK didn't exist.
He frowned at her in disapproval. "What was that? You scared the hell out of him."
She gave him a level look, her violet eyes cold. "I believe that honor fell to you."
"No, it was you all the way, babe."
"What makes you think I would ever consider someone who asks permission from you to dance with me."
"The guy didn't mean anything by it."
"It's an unspoken manly code," Brad said, still chuckling.
"Is you is, or is you ain't?" Todd quoted.
"Taken, that is," Jackson finished, his smile a blinding white flash against his dark skin.
They all stared pointedly at Ryan.
"Don't bring me into this," he protested.
"You stared at the boy like you were ready to choose seconds," Jackson commented.
"Are you implying he thought Anderson was my...boyfriend?" she stuttered, choking on the word. "Ridiculous."
He bristled. "What's so unbelievable about me being your boyfriend?"
"The way you go from woman to woman?"
"She's got you there, bro," Brad said.
"I could settle down."
Something like regret flickered through her eyes so fast, he wasn't sure he'd seen it. "You'd lose that bet," she said, smugly.
Ryan leaned in. "Would I?" He focused his gaze on the rich cushion of her mouth.
She licked her lips, nervously, and hunger for her shot to life in his blood, blazing a trail straight to the goods. Startled, he pulled back. What was wrong with him, lately?
Shifting away from her, he eyed his beer and then pushed the glass toward the center of the table. CK's stubbornness was getting on his nerves, he concluded.
Todd got up and came around to their side of the table. "Let's dance," he said to her.
Ryan scowled at him, an absurd feeling of annoyance settling across his back. "She doesn't know how."
"I don't mind." Todd held out his hand.
"She's my responsibility." Ryan got to his feet. "I'll take her."
"No, thanks," CK said, crossly. Rising gracefully, she shouldered him out
of the way and took Todd's offered hand. The sight of her nearly bare back sent another jolt through Ryan and he fisted his hands to keep from grabbing her away from Todd. A moment later, they'd disappeared toward the dance floor.
Irritation pooled in his gut, churning and mixing into frustration. None of this made sense. He should be grateful to Todd, not jealous. His friend had just saved the evening from disaster. Once she was out there, interest would start up again, and his plan would be back on track. He should be happy.
Ryan ground his teeth together and dragged his beer angrily toward him.
"Man, you got it bad," Jackson said.
"No kidding. This whole thing is getting to be a real pain in my ass."
His friend arched a brow. "Or, someplace anyway."
* * *
CK tried taking them into a turn and Todd guided her back into step just before she collided with another couple. His warm chuckle was contagious and she found herself laughing with him at her own lack of ability.
This was a night of firsts, that was for sure, and she found she was enjoying herself. Another first.
"Try and follow me," he said, grinning down at her. "Just sway to the music."
She'd gone to one dance when she was growing up, right after her best friend, Suzanne, had moved to California. She'd spent the evening sitting alone on the bleachers feeling miserable, lonely and mortified. She'd never made the attempt, again.
As the house music vibrated around them, CK regretted her blanket decision. With someone like Todd, dancing was a blast. How much more exciting would it be in Ryan's arms?
Her heart stuttered and CK mentally chastised herself for the foolish thought. She was beginning to think she didn't have the sense God gave a rock. She knew better than to let those kinds of feelings get a foothold. Ryan had always been honest about their relationship and she had to respect that. If she wanted more, then she needed to look elsewhere.
Todd was a much more pleasant companion, anyway, she told herself firmly. Ryan had been a high-handed, obnoxious jerk all evening and she was an idiot to want to share any of this with him.
She couldn't help but suspect he was still hoping to intimidate her so she'd give up on her goal. The dress he'd sent certainly supported that theory. Inviting his friends still confused her, though. From one angle, the move had been a marketing stroke of genius. From another, had he hoped they'd frighten her off?