“What makes you think I’m only interested in a fling?”
Her eyes held a world of pain and cynicism. “Experience.”
She’d been hurt. Thinking of her being hurt, betrayed, made him want to reach for her all the more, to offer words of comfort, but he knew she wouldn’t want sympathy so he bit them back and waited.
She glanced at the spot where the intruder had been, then back to him. “I’m sorry, I never should have agreed to this date.” She pulled herself up to her full height, spine stiff. “Thank you for the drink, but you have to realize we can’t repeat it.”
He frowned. This was clearly going to be a problem he’d need to overcome before he could convince her to marry him. Or, more pressingly, to kiss him again.
He needed to tread gently. Lifting her chin with a knuckle, he said, “Macy, don’t let a parasite of a photographer ruin our night. We were enjoying ourselves until that flash went off.”
Her eyes softened for a moment and he thought she was with him, but then her shutters came down.
“I—I have to go.” She whirled and walked a little too fast toward the elevator. Jaw clenched, he watched her leave, telling himself not to follow, not to come on too strong and ruin this. No matter how much he wanted to go after her, comfort her, his whole future depended on not scaring her away.
When the elevator pinged and she disappeared behind mirrored doors, he was left alone. The empty feeling that over took him was strangely hard to swallow for a man who prided himself on being a loner. He just didn’t want to leave this blasted foyer where they’d kissed only moments ago.
Don’t be sentimental and stupid. Ryder turned and strode outside to find another cab.
Their wedding couldn’t come soon enough.
Three
Macy stepped into the hall, letting the door to her serviced apartment click shut behind her. The night had been long and sleepless with images of Ryder replaying in her mind. His face so close as his mouth descended to hers…his short hair spiked between her fingers…his breath warming her cheeks…
Sensations from that kiss had tormented her body until the sheets had become a twisted mess and she’d had to trade any hopes of sleep for early morning coffee.
She pressed the elevator button and tapped the toe of her three-inch heels until the doors swished open. Facing him this morning would be difficult, knowing how she’d acted last night.
She’d kissed her boss.
Would he take her seriously in the office now?
Would he try to repeat the intimacy?
Would the other staff members be able to tell she’d been kissed by the CEO of the company, and if so, would they snigger behind their hands thinking she’d tried to sleep her way to a promotion?
She’d worn pumps higher than the normal kitten heels she routinely wore to work to eliminate some of his height advantage, even though they’d still only bring her to his forehead or so. And she’d chosen a professional look—a duck-egg-blue silk blouse with a high collar and a fine wool skirt. She’d pulled her hair back tightly into a French twist to make sure she sent no sexual signals.
The kiss, bone-melting as it may have been, could not be repeated if she wanted to keep her reputation. Or her sanity.
As the elevator arrived at the ground floor, her phone rang. She flicked it open and thumbed the talk button.
Ryder’s deep voice came down the line. “I can explain.”
She smiled grimly. It was a little late, but at least it was a step in the right direction.
She waved to the doorman and stepped out onto the misty street. “I’d rather forget it. One kiss, it’s over, we’ll move on.”
There was a pause on the line. “Have you read the papers?”
She pulled her scarf a bit tighter against the early morning chill. And frowned. “No.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll be at work in ten minutes.”
The phone disconnected.
She threw it in her bag and walked just a little faster into the office building next door that housed the temporary Chocolate Diva suites.
He’d mentioned the papers. It could be something about the company’s tentative plans to move into the Australian market. Or…it could be about the photographer last night. He’d been at a distance and shooting through glass for the few seconds before Ryder had given chase. She’d hoped any shots he’d fired off would be unusable.
But either way—a company story or a paparazzi shot—why would Ryder need to explain?
Reaching her office door, she had to stop herself rushing as she booted up her computer and clicked on the link to the Melbourne papers.
And then her stomach dropped clear to her toes.
There on the front page was a shot of Ryder kissing her in the foyer of her apartment building. The photo was a little grainy but there was no doubt it was them. Her eyes flicked to the headline.
Bramson Buys Ashley Int. Heiress.
She read down, her breath coming a little faster with each line.
“…in a secret deal between Bramson and Ian Ashley…”
“…our source said off the record that Macy Ashley’s hand in marriage was the price…”
“…Bramson wanted to marry the younger, prettier Ashley heiress but was told the only option was Macy…”
“…Bramson is believed to have completed the deal with Ms. Ashley last night…”
Macy’s hand flew to her mouth as her body shook. Her brain screamed to turn off the screen but she couldn’t look away.
It could all be lies.
Could be.
She bit down on her lip. He’d said on the phone he could explain.
She heard the elevator sound a second before Ryder strode into the office looking more like a commander on a battlefield—leading legions of men, his orders obeyed without question—than a man who’d come to apologize.
He pulled up in front of her desk and slid his hands into his pockets, making his charcoal suit jacket bunch above his wrists. She couldn’t stand up—her knees may not have supported her weight—so she remained in her high-backed office chair.
Ryder looked down into her face, assessing. “You’ve read it.”
Those were his first words? Not, “It’s a pack of lies”? She leaned back into the executive chair, ready to be lied to. “Is it true?”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Some of it.”
She focused on his burnt orange shirt with its neatly knotted charcoal tie as she took calming breaths. It was easier than looking into the eyes of yet another betrayer. “When were you going to tell me? Ever?”
“I intended to tell you last night,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling.
She remembered him asking her to invite him up, that he had something important to say. She’d doubted him at the time, thinking he had something more physical on his mind. But it was possible he’d planned to explain this mess.
Slowly, she stood, stretching to her full height plus the three inches of her heels. “Which parts are true?”
He speared long fingers through his hair, held them there, then nodded before digging his hands into his pockets again. “I wanted to buy your father’s company. He said he’d only sell to a son-in-law. Said it’d been a family company for three generations, and he intended that to continue into the fourth and fifth generations.”
Bile rose in her throat. Yes, she could believe that of her father. It fitted his obsession with the future of his company, his total contempt for the idea that a daughter could be the one to hand it down to.
Her mouth twisted into a smile. “And apparently the deal on the table was only for me, much to your disappointment.”
He held up a hand. “That part of the report was wrong. Your father’s terms stipulated either daughter. I chose you.”
Macy coughed out a laugh. She didn’t believe that for a second. Kyla had always been the one the boys preferred—she was gorgeous, sexy and knew how to make a man come to her with her eyes. Of course
Ryder would have chosen Kyla if he’d had the option.
Another thought struck. “Did you tell the media?”
“No.” His forehead creased into a frown. “And to be honest, I can’t think of how the media got hold of it. Surely your father wouldn’t want this type of publicity, either?”
She sighed. “Kyla.” It was her style.
“To jeopardize the sale?”
“To make me say no.” And then land the bachelor catch of the year herself.
Which brought her back to the facts: her father had tried to sell her. And Ryder had jumped at the offer.
She looked out the window, down to the buildings below, before finding his eyes again. “I can’t believe you even considered this, let alone agreed.” She’d thought her ability to judge people had improved, but this demonstrated otherwise.
The elevator doors whooshed open out in the hall and she heard Tina dropping her bag on her desk outside.
Ryder didn’t turn to the noise but he paused, waiting.
Tina poked her head around the door to give her usual morning greeting, but hesitated as she took in the scene. “Are you okay?”
Ryder didn’t take his eyes off Macy as he replied. “We’re fine. Shut the door on your way out.”
Macy nodded to her assistant to confirm she was okay and Tina discreetly backed out, closing the door behind her.
As if they hadn’t been interrupted, Ryder continued, his voice calm…persuasive. “We could have a good marriage. I’d be a faithful husband and an involved father with our children.”
He’d already factored children into the equation? Macy blinked rapidly, trying to recapture her inner balance. This conversation became more bizarre with every passing minute.
With three easy steps he was behind the desk with her. Not within touching distance, but strategically eliminating the desk as a barrier.
“And I’m prepared to give you whatever you want. A house in Tuscany. Your own company. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires. Name your terms.” He tilted his head to the side, the picture of reasonableness. “I think we’d get along well.”
Macy crossed her arms under her breasts, needing some sort of protection. Not from his words, but from his presence. She could smell his scent and it brought back memories she couldn’t afford to indulge right now.
She tilted her chin up. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that I’d be interested in your peculiar offer, but I will not now—nor will I ever—enter into a marriage of convenience. We don’t know each other well enough to even have this conversation.” She let her arms drop to her sides and let out a long breath. “What about love? Don’t you want to wait and find a woman you love?”
Ryder rolled back his broad shoulders. “I have to be honest. Love isn’t something I can offer.”
Macy sucked in a breath at his quick and effortless dismissal of being able to love her. But it wasn’t worth wasting energy over. She shook her head. “If you know anything about my family, you have to know the last man I’d ever marry is the one my father picked out for me.”
His eyelids lowered a fraction as his voice became seductive. “You liked me last night.”
Instinctively, she glanced at the screen on her desk, to the front page of the paper. To the image of Ryder kissing her. The shot had been taken as he cupped her cheeks with his hands, so they floated in the air, framing her face. Her throat went dry and she swallowed, remembering the crushing need she’d felt for him in that moment. Remembering the feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him….
She ignored the ache that pressed in her chest, then, resolute, she looked up and met his eyes. “I won’t break my contract—I’m a professional. I’ll see out this project for the six weeks left. Then I’m gone. I don’t want your promotion. And in the meantime, no more games. You’ll keep your distance. There will be no meetings alone, or trips together like the one planned to Sydney in two weeks.”
His shoulders squared and his feet moved a little wider apart. “Not acceptable.”
She did a double take. “Pardon?”
“If you’re seeing out the contract, then you still work for me. You will be on that plane to Sydney. I’m not going on an important trip with an accountant or a personal assistant when the team leader is available.”
Macy took an unsteady step back, mind whirling. “You can’t possibly expect—”
“I do.” Any trace of the man who’d kissed her was gone from his expression as he cut her off. The Machine was back. “There are no lame ducks on my payroll. If you’re staying, you’ll carry out your duties properly.”
He turned and strode out the door, leaving her open-mouthed, watching him.
Had she felt cornered before? Seemed she’d just discovered a whole new level of entrapment.
One week later, Macy stood in the foyer of her apartment building watching for Ryder’s car. Right on the dot of 8:00 a.m. it arrived, yet she wasn’t surprised. The Machine probably ran his whole life like clockwork.
The silver luxury car pulled to the curb and the uniformed driver circled to open her door. Macy smiled in greeting to Bernice in the front passenger seat. She’d worked with Ryder’s personal assistant several times over the days the American team had been based in the Melbourne offices, and respected her.
“Thank you.” She slid into the backseat where Ryder’s solid length was settled.
“Good morning, Macy,” he said, voice deep and rough. Dressed in a dark suit with a sky-blue shirt and tie the same shade, he dominated the sedan. His clean, woodsy scent filled the air.
She gave him a polite smile, belying the way the sight of him still made her pulse spike. “Good morning.”
They’d kept the polite facade going since the morning the paparazzi photo had been in the paper. The way she wanted it. Needed it to keep her reaction to him under control.
As the driver climbed back behind the wheel and pulled away, Ryder’s voice rumbled again from beside her. “Bernice, did William send those updates?”
Pages rustled in the front and Ryder and his personal assistant were soon in deep conversation. With no desire to hear details of the U.S. operations of companies unrelated to her project, Macy blocked it out and thought about the delicate issue she needed to bring up with Ryder as soon as she got him alone.
From the day the paper ran the story about them, security guards had been stationed not only at the office, but also in front of her apartment building. When she left each night, the guards escorted her next door and shielded her from the small contingent of paparazzi that now staked out their street.
When she’d first quizzed her doorman about the guards at her apartment complex, he’d said the building’s owner had employed them. But last night the doorman had let slip another piece of information that had confirmed her suspicions.
Ryder was behind the new security staff.
Macy bit down on her lip. Despite his cool, professional interactions with her in the past week, he’d acted—and was still acting—to keep her safe.
She’d been shocked, but her heart had melted a little at the revelation. No one had tried to safeguard her since the day her mother died. No one else had cared enough…until Ryder.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself as she reinforced the walls around her heart. Just because it seemed he’d been protecting her, she couldn’t let herself be swayed into forgetting the deal he’d made with her father.
To buy her hand in marriage.
A secret transaction with her as the currency.
Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the car as her lungs struggled to inhale. She clicked the window control and when the breeze pushed gently against her face, she sucked in a deep breath.
“Are you all right?” Ryder asked, the palpable concern in his voice reaching across to caress her skin.
Macy almost laughed. He was at it again—making sure she was okay, when he was the cause of her problem. Confusing her.
She spared him a quick glance, nodded onc
e to avoid further questions, then turned back to the safety of the window. The hairs at the back of her neck still prickled, and she knew he watched her.
While she focused on the passing scenery, Bernice’s cheery voice caught her attention, asking questions about Melbourne.
Reluctantly, Macy closed the window and answered, keeping her eyes on the back of Bernice’s head, trying in vain to be more focused on Bernice than the man mere inches from her on the backseat. He’d betrayed her in a deal with her father. Yet, in this moment, sitting beside him in the backseat of a car, all she could think of was the cab ride home seven days ago which had led to the bone-melting kiss in the lobby. A mere touching of lips that still kept her awake every night, tossing and turning.
Realizing her breaths were coming quicker, she dug out a report on the outer-Melbourne chocolate factory they were about to inspect with the view to purchase, and passed it to Ryder.
But he didn’t raise a hand to take it. “I told you I’m not here to read reports. You can fill me in with a commentary during the tour.”
Macy took it in her stride, and filed the report back into her briefcase. “Of course.”
His BlackBerry beeped with a message, and as he thumbed the buttons, he asked, “How was the rest of your meeting with the ingredients supplier yesterday?”
She thought back to the afternoon meeting with a quick smile of satisfaction. “Very good. We nailed down the details on the points we’d discussed with you.”
Ryder had been taking meetings all week with Australian, New Zealand and Southeast Asian managers from subsidiary companies of Bramson Food Holdings. Management from his biscuit company, prepackaged food company and sauce company had all been through the office yesterday for their chance to report in to the CEO.
In between his scheduled appointments, Ryder had made a point of keeping up with what was going on in her Chocolate Diva project.
He paused in his rapid one-handed typing on his BlackBerry and looked up at her. “Do you want to discuss any of it?”
At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? Page 4