by Mia Caldwell
With satisfaction, he put the publicist on ignore.
Sullivan popped back into the office. His usual immaculate, slicked-back hair style looked slightly rumpled, as did his expensive suit. Sullivan was never out of his suits, even on Saturdays. That he’d been shot out into the day without his usual care was apparent.
“So?” Ian asked, more interested in the answer than he wished to admit.
“I call dibs.” He sat on the sofa again, a wolfish smile stretched across his tanned, lean face.
“That good, huh? And you can’t call dibs. She’s my wife.”
“Damn. That’s true. Figures. So what do you think about her information so far?”
“I think she’s a genuine person who has nothing to do with this mess.”
Sullivan surprised him by striking his palm on his thigh. “I agree!”
“Since when?”
“Since now. We’ll keep digging, of course. But I think it’s best to assume she’s innocent until proven guilty. The proper thing to do is to shelter her from the press. She won’t have any way to manage this shit storm if you don’t help her.”
“I’ve been thinking about the best way to do that.”
“We could put her up in one of the company condos until the worst blows over.”
Ian considered the idea. He couldn’t see Jada being comfortable in one of the slick, glass and metal apartments. “They might find her there. I’m thinking she’d be better off at the lake cabin. Security out there is near perfection.”
“Sounds good,” Sullivan said. “I’ll set everything up. You talk with her and settle her down, explain everything, tell her we’ll take care of the problems, find out what’s going on, etc.”
“I think I can manage,” Ian said drily.
“Yeah, yeah. So shall we bring her in?”
“I guess we should.” Ian spoke to Cathy on the intercom then stood and glanced around the office. He wondered what someone like Jada would think of the place. Grandiose? Dark? Intimidating?
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why it mattered what Jada, someone he’d never even met, thought about his office. But it did. Her opinion most certainly mattered.
Chapter Four
CATHY OPENED THE DOOR TO Ian’s office and beckoned Jada to enter. Jada squared her shoulders, smoothed down the front of her skirt in a nervous gesture and bravely walked into the glistening lair of the billionaire dragon himself, the great and mighty Ian Buckley.
The first thing that struck her was the size of the office. It was huge, half the size of her house, she figured. It was all masculine power-play, deep, rich colors with leather furniture, satiny wood paneling and plush carpets over inlaid flooring. A light scent of Asian spices filled the air.
There were floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides of the room, banks of flat screen TVs on another wall, and several towering bookshelves on the fourth. Some oil paintings were hung around the place, none of which she recognized, not being into art herself. She knew quality when she saw it, however, and this was quality squared.
There were several closed doors leading to who knew what, a sitting area with black leather furniture, a gleaming bar with a small kitchenette behind it, and of course, a goliath of a desk. His desk. Ian. The man who controlled a veritable empire from this very room.
Her heart fluttered. There he was, the man himself, standing big as life by the sitting area. She took him in, all six and a half feet of him. Well, this was something she hadn’t expected: he was even better looking in real life than in his pictures.
An aura emanated from him, power shimmering in the air. It was both enthralling and intimidating. She’d never experienced such energy.
This man was special, the aura said. Important. Different. More.
She realized that he was studying her as closely as she was him. His gaze was intent, his eyes eerily sharp, like they saw through her to ... what? She was imagining things. He was just a rich man, not a god.
Spell broken, she stepped forward. “Mr. Buckley,” she said, holding out her hand.
He stepped forward and took her hand in his. She wondered if he felt the same buzz that she did when they touched. Tiny goosebumps rose on her arms. He had a woodsy, comforting scent.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Howarth. And call me Ian. This,” he gestured to the man standing beside him, a man around Ian’s age, with sandy hair, trim and fit in an expensive suit that could have used a steam, “this is Sullivan Collins, my head counsel.”
A lawyer, huh? Jada shook his hand, too, and noted there was no buzz between them. Good to know it was specific to Ian, and not a symptom of a more serious condition, something like buzz-hand syndrome.
She told them both to call her Jada, and was soon seated in one of the cushiony leather chairs. Ian sent Carol for coffee.
Jada perched on the end of her chair, knees pressed together demurely, hands clasped lightly in front of her on top of her small purse, just as her mother had taught her. She hoped she looked calmer than she felt.
Ian’s eyes, which were bright blue just as Jada had imagined, sparkled at her. He seemed strangely pleased about something, though she couldn’t think why this should be so, it being an altogether weird day of the highest magnitude.
“How was the ride into the city?” Ian asked. “I trust everything went well.”
“Oh, yes. It was fine. It was a convoy, with extra cars in front and back. I felt like the president. The paparazzi didn’t stand a chance.”
“Good, good. The press can be a bunch of vipers.”
“My sister’s a reporter.”
That gave him pause. “My mistake. I should have said ‘some’ of the press can be vipers.”
Jada took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m nervous. I really, really want to know what’s going on. Are you behind all of this craziness? And if you are, why?”
Sullivan leaned forward, his handsome face severe. “No, Jada. We’re as taken by surprise in this affair as you are. I myself broke the news to Ian this morning, and I assure you he couldn’t have been more shocked.”
She looked at both men, hard. They seemed honest. “So what’s going on? Why does everyone think we’re married?”
“Some time overnight, information was posted on the Internet that said public documents from the Springer’s Glen courthouse had been discovered, an officially signed and sealed marriage license that shows you and I are married,” Ian said. “The press picked it up early this morning and has been running with it ever since.”
“So there’s a real marriage license out there with our names and signatures on it, and it’s official? That can’t be,” Jada said.
“I agree,” Ian said. “We haven’t seen the actual document yet, but sources assure us it exists. We’ll get hold of it soon, and when we do, we can begin to uncover the source of this honest error, publicity stunt, whatever it actually is.”
“Huh.” Jada thought over the few known facts. “I don’t know how this could have happened. It makes no sense. You mentioned publicity stunt. You don’t think that I had anything to do with it, do you? Because if you do, you’re off the mark and then some.”
“No. We don’t think you had anything to do with it.”
“Why not?”
Ian smiled. “I’d think you’d just be glad we don’t suspect you.”
“I am. But I don’t know why I’ve been ruled out as a suspect.”
“Let’s just say you don’t appear to be the publicity-seeking type.”
Jada chewed that over for a moment. “You’re right, but I still don’t see how you know that. For what it’s worth, I don’t suspect that you had anything to do with it either. Not anymore.”
“Thank you,” Ian said. “What convinced you?”
Her first thought was, the buzz you sent up my arm when you touched me, but she didn’t say it. Cathy saved her by returning with a tray of steaming coffee mugs. Jada busied herself by doctoring her coffee and savoring the fi
rst few sips. It was delicious. She had tried to get the driver of her car to stop at a coffee shop, or even a fast food place, on the way into the city, but he said they’d get overrun by the trailing press corps if they stopped.
She spoke without thinking. “It must suck being you.”
He paused in mid-sip of his coffee. “Pardon?”
“I mean, traveling everywhere with a security detail and reporters hounding you all the time. I’d hate it. They’ve ruined my lawn, you know. And I had to turn off my phone. They somehow got my number and I no sooner clean out my voicemail than they fill it up again. I can’t even text my own sister right now. How do you keep them out of your phone? It’s terribly annoying.”
Ian didn’t say a word, just stared at her with a strange expression. Sullivan cleared his throat and drew her attention.
“We have systems in place, Jada, to protect Ian’s privacy. And we’d like to help protect yours, too, while we work this out,” he said.
As Sullivan spoke, Ian waved Cathy over. She bent down and he spoke to her in hushed tones that Jada couldn’t overhear. Cathy nodded and left the office.
Jada looked back and forth between the two men. “Why would you want to help me?”
“For one thing,” Ian said, “the least I can do is protect my wife. And that’s you, after all.”
Jada laughed for the first time that day. It felt good. “And what’s the other thing? Am I having your baby, too?”
“A splendid idea. I’m in need of an heir. And perhaps a spare, too.”
Jada grinned, but it soon faded as she recognized a hint of sincerity behind his playful words. Awkward. She didn’t know what to say.
Sullivan broke in. “So we have an idea.”
“That’s right,” Ian said. “And I hope you’re amenable to it. We have the resources to straighten this thing out. You’re vulnerable in your position as an ord ... well, I mean ... a reg ...”
“I’m not offended if you call me a regular, normal person, you know. It’s what I am. It’s what most of us are. I’m not ashamed of being like nearly everyone else,” Jada said.
Was that a blush creeping up Ian’s neck? “I didn’t mean it that way. I would never think you had anything to be ashamed of. You’re splendid as you are. You’re not ordinary, or regular, in fact. That’s why I didn’t say it. I meant to say that dealing with this situation isn’t your responsibility. It’s—”
“Now, I’m offended. This debacle affects me, so working it out is just as much my responsibility as it is yours. Or are you saying I don’t have what it takes to—”
“God, no, that’s not it at all. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of—”
“So then I don’t see why you think I can’t—”
“I’m not saying that, Jada. What I was saying was ... hell. I can’t remember now.”
Sullivan burst out laughing, going so far as to slap his knee. Ian scowled and Jada joined him. Sullivan laughed harder than ever.
They waited Sullivan out and when he caught his breath, he dabbed at the corners of his eyes with a monogrammed silk handkerchief. He looked at Ian. “I haven’t seen you that befuddled in I don’t know how long. Jada, if you can do that over and over again, I’ll pay you six figures and give you a corner office with a view of the park.”
Jada didn’t respond to his ridiculous offer. She raised her chin and spoke to Ian instead. “So what is it you were going to suggest I do about this mess?”
Ian took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. The billionaire in him took charge. “I think you should stay out of sight for a while, until we get everything straightened out.”
“Oh. Well,” Jada said, “that’s actually not a bad idea. I could stay in a hotel or something, I guess.”
“That wouldn’t be ideal. It’s a huge news item and someone would give you away sooner or later. My suggestion, and what I’m offering, is that you stay in a secure location. You could stay at one of my properties. I think you might enjoy the lake cabin.”
Jada nearly dropped her mug. Was he serious? “You want to put me up at your house? Well, your cabin or whatever? That’s so ... I don’t know. It sounds—”
“Believe me,” Sullivan interrupted, “you’ll love the lake cabin. It’s beautiful out there. And no one could get to you. You’d be safe and sound while we work this out. Think of it as an unplanned vacation.”
“How long are you talking about my staying there? I have a job, you know.”
“We know,” Ian said with such surety that it unnerved her, making her wonder what else they knew about her. Undoubtedly, more than she knew about them. “We might have this whole thing straightened out by morning. Impossible to guess. We can deal with other issues as they arise.”
They made it sound so reasonable, that she should just suddenly decide to up and go out to some remote cabin all by herself to get away from reporters who wanted to hound her to death. It was so bizarre, it almost made sense.
“Would there be someone at the cabin with me? Like a caretaker or something?”
“Yes, of course. There’s staff and security. You’d be quite safe, I promise, and well taken care of,” Ian said.
Cathy returned to the office. She came over to Jada and handed her a cell phone.
“What’s this for?” she asked. It was a nice phone, top of the line from what she could tell.
“It’s for you,” Ian said. “So you can talk to your family in peace. This is one of our company phones we provide for executives. The press won’t be able to find you on that.”
“That’s so thoughtful.” Jada eyed the phone in wonder. Gee, mention something around here and a genie assistant shows up magically handing over technological wanders. She could get used to that kind of service. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ll return it, of course, when—”
“No worries. So what do you say to the lake cabin? Would you like to go? You’d certainly make us feel better, knowing you’re protected,” Ian said.
A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through her chest. It was nice, the protective way Ian treated her. She was accustomed to taking care of herself, and of Marina, too. It was strange to consider letting someone else take charge. It was seductive, allowing a sexy, rich man to take over. For once, just relaxing and going with the flow.
She should fight the fuzzies. She knew it. Fight the fuzzies. Fight them.
Nope, wasn’t happening. She liked the phone. She liked the idea of spending time at a lake cabin. She liked the billionaire who was watching her with confident expectation on his manly face.
“Wait,” she said, “I forgot about Ms. Kitty. I can’t leave her home alone.”
“Miss Kitty is ...” Ian raised a shaped brow.
“My cat. And it’s Ms., pronounced Miz, not Miss, Kitty.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be sexist.”
“Ha! No, it’s just that Miss Kitty would be the name of that madame on that old television show and I’d never name my cat after a madame. That would be weird.”
“Miss Kitty wasn’t a madame,” Sullivan interjected. “She dated Matt Dillon.”
“You have to read between the lines,” Jada said. “An unmarried woman in the 1800’s, owns the only drinking establishment in town. Of course she would have had to offer up basic entertainment to the cowboys. That’s how it was done.”
“I don’t see how you come to that conclusion,” Ian said, blue eyes twinkling mightily.
“It’s understood. That’s all I’m saying. Television writers back then, they couldn’t come right out and say it, so they had to imply.”
Ian glanced at Sullivan. “An interesting conjecture. My grandfather loved that show and I would imagine he’d have taken an interest in your theory.”
Sullivan shook his head. “Miss Kitty was no hooker.”
“I didn’t say she was a working girl, not like that,” Jada said. “Like you said, she was hooking up with the sheriff, probably in exchange for him looking the other way in regards to her illega
l prostitution racket.”
Ian chuckled.
Sullivan scratched his chin. “Still don’t see it.”
“Miss Kitty’s second profession aside,” Ian said, “can we get back to what’s important? Jada, you have a cat. Can your sister look after her while you’re gone?”
“No. Ms. Kitty doesn’t like Marina. Or anyone else, really. She’s anti-social.”
“No problem. We’ll send someone out to pick her up and they’ll bring her to the lake cabin to stay with you.”
Wow. That was easy, Jada thought. “I guess that might work, but she’ll probably hide from them. I should go myself, anyway. I’ll need to pack some clothes and things.”
“Not a good idea,” Ian said. “They’ll have people watching your house. You can get with Cathy, tell her your sizes and she’ll get some clothes out to you. Everything else you might need will be provided.”
“Okay, but I have to have my laptop. I’ve got some work to do this weekend.”
“Just tell Cathy where it is and you’ll have it along with Ms. Kitty,” Ian said.
Simple. Problem solved, billionaire style. Jada gave a passing thought to how Marina would react when told about this meeting. Poor girl. She’d die of jealousy. Jada would have to hold back some of the details for Marina’s own good.
“Well, I guess I don’t have any other objections then. I’m putting myself in your hands, so to speak. I think I’ve lost my mind, by the way,” Jada said.
“It’s going to be okay.” Ian leaned in her direction. “This will be sorted out soon. I promise.”
She believed him. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t care that it didn’t make any sense. She believed this man. If he said he’d do something, she had no doubt he would.
“Okay then. Thanks,” she said, feeling awkward and overwhelmed.
“No thanks necessary.” Ian stood up. “Cathy, Sullivan, I trust you’ll take care of the details and make sure my wife gets everything she needs.” He held out his hand to Jada.
She stood and shook his hand. Another buzz. Too bad she was leaving already.