The Billionaire Date

by Leigh Michaels

  She was smiling as she reached her office. The idea of Jarrett being no more important than a head cold—now that was an image she could cherish!

  Jarrett was still sitting beside her desk, but the fountain pen and the notepad were no longer in sight. He’d slouched in his chair and propped his feet on her desk blotter with his ankles crossed. In one hand he held a small plastic bottle, in the other a wand—part of the treasures Susannah had tucked in her Christmas stocking last year. As Kit stared in utter disbelief he raised the wand to his lips, blew gently and tipped his head to watch as an enormous and iridescent bubble rose effortlessly toward the ceiling.

  Kit swallowed hard. She had never before encountered a man so magnetic, so intensely fascinating, so secure in himself that he could sit with his feet up and blow bubbles without threatening his masculinity in the least.

  The bubble shattered. In the quiet room. Kit heard the soft pop as clearly as if it had been an explosion. Or perhaps it wasn’t the bubble’s demise she heard, but the end of her illusion that mere knowledge could protect her from his charms.

  Jarrett looked up and smiled, and Kit’s heart squeezed painfully tight.

  “Hi,” he said. “Was the resuscitation effort a success?”

  “Susannah’s breathing again, at least.”

  “That’s good. I like her.”

  Jealousy stabbed through Kit like a javelin. The reaction stunned her. He’d only been making a casual comment—hadn’t he? Besides, she couldn’t possibly feel jealous over a man she didn’t really want—could she? And jealous of Susannah? Her friend, her partner—a woman who was almost as close as a sister?

  “I hope you don’t mind the bubbles,” Jarrett said. “I’m trying not to let them hit anything important.”

  “That’s good. Soap rings don’t look good on presentation packages.” Kit’s voice was incredibly steady, considering what was going on in her mind. “I thought you were calling grocers. Or are you already through the list?”

  “I decided it was far too much effort.”

  She was momentarily nonplussed, but finally she shrugged. “All right. The night of the auction, I’ll tell two thousand hungry people to blame you.”

  “Oh, they’ll be fed. I just decided it was pointless to waste time soliciting small donations from every grocer in the city, so I called a restaurateur friend. He’s taking over the whole thing. Hors d’oeuvres for two thousand, coming right up.”

  “And who gets the bill?” she asked doubtfully.

  “He’s donating it.”

  “The whole thing?”

  Jarrett nodded and blew another bubble. This one drifted off to the side and burst against the shade of her desk lamp.

  “That’s some friend. Either he’s extremely generous or he’s planning to do it on the cheap. What’s he going to bring? Cheese cubes and saltines?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck. She didn’t manage to ease the tense muscles, but she did loosen her French twist. “Well, it probably doesn’t matter,” she mused. “The auction will be the main thing. At least we’re not promising a sit-down dinner.”

  Jarrett put the soap solution aside and sat up straight. “You know, that’s not a half-bad idea. A dinner would—”

  Kit glared at him. “Let me make this perfectly clear, Webster. Your involvement in food is over. Nothing more—do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Both his words and his tone were meek.

  Kit wasn’t fooled for an instant. The busier she kept him, the better off she’d be. “So since you’ve finished that assignment, you can go to work on ticket sales.”

  “Me? But Kitten, darling, you’re doing such a good job. I couldn’t bear to interfere. Of course,” he added thoughtfully, “if you don’t get two thousand people there, you’ll end up with a whole lot of cheese on your face. By the time you eat it all, you’ll probably have grown whiskers.” He reached out a casual hand. “You’d make a cute sort of mouse. But we’d absolutely have to change your name.”

  With the tip of his smallest finger, he traced imaginary lines on her cheeks, just where a mouse would have whiskers. Kit wanted to stand still and let him finish, just to prove that his little trick had no effect on her. But that wasn’t true. Though his touch was soft as a feather, the slow, deliberate stroking was enough to drive her mad.

  She couldn’t take it any more. She stepped back, just out of reach, with more speed and less grace than she’d have liked. Jarrett smiled.

  Kit wanted to stamp on his foot. But this sort of provocation, she told herself, called for far more definite action than that.

  Maybe, she thought, she’d been onto something earlier, after all. If she stopped playing hard to get, he’d probably back off, concerned about the consequences of his actions.

  What she ought to do, she realized, was throw herself into his arms and give him a hot and passionate kiss. That might just terrify him into cutting out this kind of nonsense....

  But the very thought made her dizzy. She could actually feel the strength of his body held close in her arms. She could hear the beat of his heart—or was it her own? She could feel the texture of his skin against her fingertips and taste his lips against hers....

  Kit’s head was spinning, and she had to clutch at the back of a chair to keep herself upright.

  No, she thought, there were too many ways to interpret a kiss, and Jarrett was guaranteed to seize on the one he wanted—that she’d agreed to an affair. While she was convinced he’d soon tire of the whole idea if she was no longer a challenge, it was likely to take a while—and if a kiss that had occurred only in her imagination could send her blood pressure through the roof, Kit knew she’d better stop cherishing any illusions about how much she could stand in real life.

  But perhaps there was a better idea. What would happen if she seemed to be getting serious about him?

  That was the answer, she realized. The moment she hinted that she expected—counted on—something more long-lasting than an affair, Jarrett would be no more than a streak of dust in the distance.

  She realized abruptly that Jarrett’s hand was inches from her face and that he’d snapped his fingers under her nose at least twice. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Kit smiled. All of a sudden, she was feeling much more sure of herself. “Never better,” she said.

  He looked a bit wary, she thought. This would require careful handling. “Let’s get some work done.” She dug in her desk drawer for a folder. “Here’s a list of the ticket outlets. If we’re trying to fill the ballroom, I’ll have to get another batch of tickets printed. And some extra promotion wouldn’t hurt.”

  Jarrett ran an eye down the list. “What have you got in mind?”

  “I think I told you I’m scheduled on one of the TV talk shows tomorrow morning. I was going to make the appearance by myself, but two of us would be even better. And since you’re going to be available the rest of the week...” She held her breath.

  But Jarrett didn’t even hesitate. “Sure,” he said. “Good idea.”

  Kit cupped her hand over the side of her face as she looked at her folder. But she wasn’t studying the list of ticket outlets. She was trying to hide the smile she couldn’t quite repress.

  This, she thought, might actually end up being fun.

  When Kit’s doorbell rang on Tuesday morning, dawn was no more than a faint promise in the eastern sky. She was still drinking her first cup of coffee and trying to decide whether fake pearls or a twisted rope of gold would look better under the pitiless glare of television lights. She gave up the question and pulled the door open without bothering to secure the chain. “It’s bad enough of you to make a habit of being early,” she grumbled, “but at this hour of the morning it’s positively indecent.”

  Jarrett shrugged. “If you’d only taken me up on the idea of sleeping together, you could have spent the night at my place. And since my apartment happens to be just a few blocks from the te
levision station, neither of us would have had to get up at such a ghastly hour.”

  It really wasn’t fair, Kit thought wryly, that he was not only early, but wide awake into the bargain. “Well, the part about sleeping isn’t a bad idea.”

  “Poor Kitten.” He sounded quite solicitous. “Aren’t you resting well these days?”

  Kit didn’t bother to dignify that with a comment, figuring that he could perfectly well judge for himself. Jarrett, in contrast, looked as if he’d not only had a full night’s sleep but had just stepped out of his tailor’s shop. His topcoat was open over a trimly tailored dark blue suit that she’d never seen before. Every hair was in place, and his eyes held a good-humored sparkle that set the hairs on the back of her neck quivering in alarm.

  It was simply not fair, Kit thought. There ought to be a law. No man should be allowed to be so good-looking and so incredibly sensual at that hour of the morning.

  He looked around the tiny living room. “Cozy place.”

  “You can say that again. But then I’m seldom here except to sleep, so it doesn’t matter much.” She took her coat from the hall closet.

  Almost absentmindedly, he held it for her. Even after Kit had slid her arms into the sleeves, however, he continued to hold the lapels. His hands lay lightly across her shoulders. When Kit turned her head in puzzlement to see what had absorbed his attention, her dangling earring brushed his wrist. The contact set off an electrical tingle that raced through every nerve in Kit’s body.

  You are a sad case, Deevers, she told herself.

  Kit couldn’t seem to force herself to step away. It wasn’t as if he was holding her. The weight of his hands was barely noticeable. But other things seemed to form a web that was more effective. His cologne was little more than a breath of scent, but it seemed to paralyze her. His warmth made her want to nestle against his body and close her eyes and relax....

  There was a reason, Kit thought irritably, that executions by firing squad were always held at dawn. It was the hour when the human body was least able to put up a fight!

  “If we’re going to make it in time for the show, we’d better get going,” she said.

  “What? Oh, I’m sorry—I was just admiring your taste in furniture.”

  “Courtesy of an aunt who owned an antique shop.”

  “Do. you mean the furniture or the taste?”

  “Both, actually. She taught me to trust my instincts about what I like, and then she bought it for me wholesale.”

  “Nice person to know.”

  The air was still night-crisp, though the eastern sky was beginning to glow. As they walked toward the Porsche, Kit saw the first streetlight wink out as dawn approached.

  Jarrett said abruptly, “I’ve been thinking, Kitten.”

  “So early in the morning? That could be dangerous.”

  “What have you planned for after the auction?”

  “A champagne toast to celebrate my survival. Why? What have you got in mind?”

  “It occurred to me that after all the excitement and hype, just saying thanks and sending everyone home might be a bit antictimactic—especially for the women who bought the dream dates.”

  Kit frowned. “Now that you mention it... So what do you suggest we do instead?”

  “We turn up the lights and have a party. It would be a chance for the buyers to meet their dates and for the women who didn’t succeed in buying a package to wind down and have a good time anyway.”

  “Great,” Kit said crisply. “You’re in charge. And before you start fussing about the responsibility, remember that I only agreed to raise the money—and by the time the party starts, I’ll have kept my part of the bargain.”

  “Was I fussing? The party was my idea, after all.”

  His tone was so mild, so cooperative, that every nerve cell in Kit’s body began to shriek warnings. But she could hardly withdraw permission now. And no matter what he planned, a party after the auction surely couldn’t hurt the outcome where fund-raising was concerned. Could it?

  Dawn was streaking the sky as they passed the security guard at the back door of the television station. They were ushered into the green room to wait for their segment to begin. Jarrett got them each a cup of poisonouslooking coffee from a machine in the corner, but before Kit could try a sip, a young aide came to take them onto the set, and she gratefully set the cup aside.

  The background was painted a vibrant blue, which made Kit’s eyes hurt almost as much as did the bright lights. She could hardly concentrate on the host as he introduced himself, and there was barely time for a deep breath before the commercial break came to a close.

  “There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Jarrett said under his breath.

  If you knew what I have in mind, Kit thought, you wouldn’t be so certain of that.

  The host began to talk about the auction and turned to Jarrett with his first question.

  Kit tipped her head and looked at Jarrett with the shy, worshipful glow she’d practiced in her bathroom mirror for an hour last night. She only hoped she didn’t look as silly as she felt.

  Jarrett didn’t seem to notice. “But those details are really Kit’s part of the event,” he finished, and flashed a smile at her.

  The host turned to Kit. “There’s been some discussion in the press of disagreement between the two of you about the auction,” he said.

  He couldn’t have given her a better opening if she’d scripted it herself. Kit braced herself—it was now or never. “Oh, no. In fact...” She flashed the shy-butproud smile of a woman who’s just gained her greatest desire and said, “Of course there’s nothing official till after the auction, but Jarrett and I...” She paused and did her best to look adorably confused. “But I shouldn’t have mentioned that here, should I, darling? About the engagement?”

  Jarrett drew a sharp breath. Kit thought it quite likely, considering the sensitive microphone he was wearing, that viewers all over Chicago heard it just as clearly as she did. She wanted to cheer.

  “You little wretch,” he said under his breath.

  Kit clapped both hands over her mouth. She’d anticipated that he would be caught off guard, but she’d never dreamed he would react so strongly. She only hoped the laugh she was trying so hard to stifle would look like badly handled hysteria.

  Jarrett seized her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. “All I can say is—” His other arm slid around her shoulders with the taut strength of a steel cable.

  He had pulled her slightly off balance, so she was leaning into him, and with his left hand still holding both her wrists, there was no way for Kit to get enough leverage to free herself.

  All right, a little voice at the back of her brain whispered. How are you going to maneuver yourself out of this one, Deevers?

  Then Jarrett’s mouth came down firmly on hers, and Kit forgot all about struggling. The kiss she had imagined in her office yesterday had been powerful enough to light up Chicago, but the reality was enough to blow every electrical grid in the country.

  Kit’s heart seemed to shudder to a halt. Time itself slowed till cold molasses would have seemed speedy in comparison.

  Not that Kit cared. Her world had narrowed until it held only the taste of him, the scent of him, the feel of him. And when eventually he stopped kissing her, Kit’s eyes wouldn’t focus, and breathing was nothing more than a dim memory. If it hadn’t been for his arm still tight around her, she’d probably have slid off her chair.

  Jarrett released her wrists and gently shook a fingertip in her face. “Keeping me in suspense like this and then giving me my answer on television.” He turned to the host and added calmly, “Don’t you think she’s a wretch to do that?”

  The host was opening and closing his mouth like a fish gasping for oxygen.

  Kit hadn’t realized how hot it was on the set. She was burning up. She wanted to fan herself, but the muscles in her arms didn’t seem to work anymore.

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen, you hear
d it here first,” the host said finally. “I suppose this means you won’t be offering a package after all, Jarrett? I mean, since you’re pretty much taken now—”

  Jarrett smiled at Kit, still leaning helplessly against his shoulder. “Oh, I’ve certainly been taken,” he murmured.

  With the speed and clarity of the visions experienced by drowning swimmers, Kit suddenly saw the Dream Dates Auction going down the drain. All her planning, her work and her effort were in vain, because she’d miscalculated so badly when she’d planned this prank. And she’d handed Jarrett the perfect opportunity not only to get out of the auction, but to make her look like an incompetent fool in the bargain.

  Which was exactly what he’d wanted from the beginning.

  “Oh, not at all,” he said cheerfully. “Kit’s a wonderful, understanding, terrific woman, and she’s in full support of this excellent cause. That’s why she said that we won’t make anything absolutely official till afterward.”

  “Oh.” The host, obviously at sea, looked toward the control room as if he wanted to beg for help. “Well, thank you two for—”

  Jarrett went on relentlessly. “Naturally, this confirms my suspicion that she’s been planning all along to bid for me. And I’m sure it’ll be safe for everyone else at the auction to offer any amount of money, since—under the circumstances—my Kitten obviously plans to top all other bids. I’m right, aren’t I, Kit?”

  “Umm—” Kit said.

  Jarrett looked at her lovingly. He did it, Kit thought irritably, with tremendous skill—far more than she’d displayed when she’d tried earlier to put across her shy and worshipful gaze.

  “But of course you will,” Jarrett went on smoothly. “Because you wouldn’t want to let any other woman go with me on our honeymoon—would you, darling?”

  They were hardly outside the station before Jarrett leaned against the cinder-block wall of the building and burst into raucous laughter. “The look on your face, Kitten—”