He flipped up the collar of his gray overcoat and gestured her inside. She gathered her own wet coat around her and ducked to climb in.
“Lunatic,” he muttered under his breath.
“Lucky for you we’re not having children,” she said over her shoulder as she settled into the seat.
“Lucky for me we’re not buying plants.” He firmly shut the door behind her before walking around the vehicle to get in behind the driver.
She shook the rainwater from her fingertips, smoothing her soaked jacket and frowning at her soggy bag. “Green and Stafford in Yorkville,” she said to the driver, getting an unwelcome glimpse of herself in the side mirror.
“The penthouse, Henry,” Zach corrected.
“You’re not dropping me off?” She wasn’t sure why his bad manners surprised her. Zach was all about his own convenience. His minions obviously didn’t factor in on his radar.
“Henry will take you home later,” he said.
Later? She raised her brow in a question.
“The papers are at my penthouse.”
Of course they were. Having the papers available in the car would be far too simple. Resigned, she plunked her bag into her lap and gave up on trying to repair her look. She was a mess, and that was that.
“Don’t you worry about inconveniencing me,” she drawled. “It’s not like I have a life.”
Henry pulled into the snarl of traffic heading for Liberty and Wildon, while Zach sent her a speculative, sidelong glance. “Stroke of a pen gets you out of this any old time you want.”
She determinedly shook her head. Much as she’d love to sever both their marital and business ties, if she let him off the hook, the man would fire her in the blink of an eye.
He leaned back in the leather seat, angling his body so that he faced her. “What if I promised you could keep your job?”
Rain rattled harder on the car’s sunroof, while the wipers slapped their way across the windshield, blurring the view of the street.
Kaitlin made a half turn in the seat, meeting Zach’s dark eyes. “That would require me trusting you.”
“You can trust me,” he assured her.
She coughed out a laugh. “You ruined my life.”
He frowned. “I made you a very wealthy woman.”
“I don’t want to be a wealthy woman.”
“I say again. You can get out of this anytime you want.”
She made a show of glancing around the interior of the car. “Is there some way to exit this conversation?” she asked him. “Or does it just keep circling the drain?”
Horns honked in the lanes beside them as Henry inched his way through a left-hand turn. Kaitlin swiped at her damp, tangled hair, resisting an urge to slip off her soggy shoes and wiggle her toes into the thick carpet.
“You’re going to find it very inconvenient being my business partner,” Zach warned.
She cocked her head, watching him as she spoke. “Because you’ll go out of your way to make it hell?”
He resettled himself in the butter-soft seat. “And here I thought I was being subtle.”
“This is fifty pages long.” Standing in the middle of Zach’s penthouse living room, Kaitlin frowned as she leafed her way through the document.
“It deals with control of a multimillion-dollar corporation,” he returned with what he hoped resembled patience. “We could hardly jot it down on a cocktail napkin.”
Though he’d had a few days to come to terms with this bizarre twist in his life, Zach was still chafing at the circumstance. He didn’t want to have to justify anything about Harper Transportation to Kaitlin, even temporarily. His grandma Sadie had complete faith in him—at least he’d always thought she’d had complete faith in him. He’d never had to explain anything about the company to her. He’d basically been running the show for over a decade.
But now there was Kaitlin. And she was underfoot. And she had questions. And he could only imagine what kind of monstrosity he’d be left with for an office building.
Dylan had pointed out yesterday that appeasing Kaitlin was better than losing half his company. Maybe it was. But barely.
“I’ll need to have my lawyer look at this,” Kaitlin announced, reaching down to pull open her oversize shoulder bag in order to deposit the document inside.
“Give it a read before you decide,” Zach cajoled through half-gritted teeth. “It’s not Greek.” He pointed. “You and I sign page three, authorizing the board of directors. The board members have already signed page twenty, confirming my positions. The rest is…well, read it. You’ll see.”
She hesitated, peering at him with suspicion. But after a moment, she sighed, dropping her bag onto his sofa. “Fine. I’ll take a look.”
He tried not to cringe as her wet purse hit the white leather cushion of his new, designer Fendi.
“Your coat?” he offered instead, holding out his hands to accept it. The coat he’d hang safely in his hall closet before she had a chance to drape it over his ironwood table.
She slipped out of the dripping rain jacket, revealing a clingy, black-and-burgundy, knee-length dress. It had capped sleeves, a scooped neck and a pencil-straight skirt that flowed down to her shapely legs, which were clad in black stockings. Damp as they were, her high heels accentuated slim ankles and gorgeous calves.
Though they’d spoken briefly at the office this morning, she’d been wearing her coat at the time. He’d had no idea what was hidden beneath. Just as well he hadn’t had that image inside his brain all day long.
“Thank you,” she acknowledged, handing him the coat.
“I’m…uh…” He pointed in the general direction of the hallway and the kitchen, making his escape before she noticed he was ogling her body with his mouth hanging open.
In the kitchen, he found that his housekeeper had left a note informing him there was salad and a chicken dish in the fridge. She’d also left a bottle of Cabernet on the breakfast bar. Zach automatically reached for the corkscrew, breathing through the dueling emotions of frustration and arousal.
Sure, Kaitlin was an attractive woman. He knew that. He’d known that from the minute he met her. But there were attractive women everywhere. He didn’t have to fixate on her.
He popped the cork.
No. No reason at all for him to fixate on her.
In fact, maybe he should get himself a date. A date would distract him. He’d been working too hard lately, that was all. A date with another, equally attractive woman would nip this fascination with Kaitlin in the bud.
He reached for the crystal glasses hanging from the rack below the cabinet.
Dylan had offered to introduce him to his newest helicopter pilot. He’d said she was attractive and athletic. She was a Yankees fan, but he could probably live with that. And she had a master’s degree in art history. Who didn’t like art history?
Before Zach realized what he’d done, he’d filled two glasses with wine.
“Oh, hell.”
Then again, he supposed the woman deserved a drink. If she signed the papers, they’d toast the accomplishment. If she refused to sign, maybe the wine would loosen her up, and he could take another stab at convincing her.
He shrugged out of his suit jacket, moving farther down the hallway to the master bedroom. There, he hung the jacket in his closet, shed his tie and glanced in the mirror above his dresser.
He definitely needed a shave. And his white shirt was wrinkled from being worn all day.
He glanced once at the jacket and considered putting it back on. But common sense prevailed. Instead, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. If this was a date, he’d shave and redress. But it wasn’t a date. And his looks would be the last thing on Kaitlin’s mind.
More comfortable, he returned to the kitchen and retrieved the wineglasses. He moved down the hallway to the living room. Inside the doorway, he paused.
Kaitlin seemed to have made herself at home. She’d kicked off her strappy shoes
and curled her legs beneath her, knees bent and pressed together, stocking-clad feet pushing up against the arm of his sofa. Her hair was drying to a wild, glossy halo that framed her smooth skin. And her face was a study in concentration, red lips pursed, green eyes slightly squinted as she read her way through the pages.
She looked good in his living room, somehow settled and at home.
Funny, he’d seen her dressed up, dressed down, dancing with laughter and crackling with anger. But he’d never caught her unaware. And somehow he had the feeling this was the real woman, halfway between Vegas glitter and Saturday casual, her energy turned inward, mind working. He sensed a calm intelligence in her that he hadn’t noticed before.
He must have moved, because she finally noticed him.
“Wine?” he offered, raising one of the glasses, walking forward, pretending he hadn’t been staring.
“You’re right,” she told him, letting the papers drop into her lap, stretching an arm across the back of the sofa in an obviously unintended, sensual gesture.
“Never thought I’d hear you say that.” But there was no bite to his words. He’d meant to mock her, but it came off as a gentle joke.
She flipped the document back to the first page and set it in front of her on the coffee table. “I’ll sign it.”
“Really?” Too late, he realized he sounded surprised. To cover, he handed her the glass of wine.
She accepted the glass and shrugged. “It’s exactly what you said it was.”
“How about that,” he couldn’t help but tease.
“Shocked the heck out of me,” she returned, doing a double take, seeming to note he’d shed the jacket and tie.
He sat down on the other end of the couch. “Then, cheers.” He lifted his glass.
She allowed a small smile, which made her prettier than ever. She leaned toward him, holding out her glass to clink it against his. The motion gave him a glimpse of her cleavage, and he was forced to drag his gaze away from her soft breasts.
They each took a sip.
Then her smile grew, and an impish dimple appeared in her right cheek. “Tough day at the office, dear?” She mimicked what was obviously a wifely voice of concern.
Something inside him responded warmly to the banter. “You know—” he paused for effect “—the usual.”
“Is this weird?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“Yes.”
“Because it feels weird. I mean, on a scale of one to, well, weird, it’s weird.”
“Did that make sense inside your head?”
She took another drink, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m sure you got the gist of it.”
“I did. And I agree. It’s weird.”
“We’re married.” She said the words in a tone of wonder.
“Yes, we are.” Zach took a healthy swig from his own glass. He’d never been married. And even if he had, he couldn’t help but doubt anything could prepare a man for this particular situation.
She paused, and then her voice went soft. “I’m not trying to ruin your life, you know.”
He didn’t like it that she seemed so vulnerable. It was better when she was acting tough and feisty. Then, it was easier to view her as a combatant. And he was beginning to admit fighting with Kaitlin was much safer than joking with her.
He struggled to put a hard note back in his voice. “I guess it was the blackmail scheme that had me confused.”
Her green eyes were clear, open and honest. “I’m not looking to gain anything.”
He made a show of skeptically raising his brows.
“I’m looking to set things right,” she assured him.
He tried to sound doubtful. “Is that how this is playing out inside your head?”
“Once I’ve earned my way back into the good graces of my profession, you’ll be home free. I want a career, Zach, not your company.”
He had to admit, he believed her. He understood she was trying to make her own life better. Her methods weren’t the most noble from where he was standing. But he did accept the fact that he was collateral damage.
She leaned forward and flipped to the signature page of the document. “Do you have a pen?”
“Sure.” He rose and crossed to the small rosewood desk that held a telephone and a reading lamp.
“I’m meeting Lindsay for dinner,” Kaitlin explained from behind him. “I don’t want to be too late.”
“I have a date,” he lied, extracting a pen from the small desk drawer. He’d call Dylan and get the number of the pretty helicopter pilot just as soon as Kaitlin left.
“You’re cheating on me?”
Her outburst surprised him, but when he turned, he saw the laughter lurking in her jade-green eyes.
“Yes,” he answered easily, not about to rise to the bait. “I’ve been cheating on you since the wedding.”
“Men,” she huffed in pretend disgust, folding her arms across her chest, accenting her breasts.
Focusing beyond her lovely figure, he shrugged an apology on behalf of his gender as he crossed the room. “What can I say?”
She accepted the pen, bending her head to sign the papers. “Well, I’ve been faithful.”
He waited for the punch line.
It didn’t come.
“Seriously?” he asked.
She finished her signature with a flourish, declining to answer.
But he couldn’t let it go. “You haven’t had sex with anybody since Vegas?”
“What do you mean since Vegas.” She sat up straight, handing the pen back in his direction. “Who do you think I had sex with in Vegas?”
He accepted it, feeling a twinge of remorse. “I didn’t mean it that—”
“The only person I was with in Vegas was you and we didn’t—” The amusement suddenly fled her eyes, replaced by uncertainty. “We, uh, didn’t, did we?”
Okay, this was interesting. “You don’t remember?” He might not have total recall of the entire night’s events. But he knew they hadn’t made love.
Then the vulnerability was back, and she slowly shook her head. “I barely remember the wedding.”
He was tempted to string her along, but quickly changed his mind. The cursed vulnerability again. It made him want to protect her, not mess with her mind.
“We didn’t,” he assured her.
She tilted her head to one side. “Are you sure? Do you remember every minute?”
Their gazes locked for a couple of heartbeats.
“I’d remember that.”
“So, you can’t say for sure…”
“Has this been bothering you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Because it sounds like—”
Suddenly, she snagged her bag and hooked it over her shoulder, coming to her feet. “It’s not bothering me. If we did it, we did it.”
“We didn’t.” Not that he hadn’t wanted to. Not that he wouldn’t love to. Not that he wasn’t still—
Damn it. He had to stop going there.
“Because I’m not pregnant or anything,” she said, slipping into her sexy shoes and straightening her clingy dress. The action pulled it tighter against her lithe body, and it was more than he could do not to let his gaze take a tour.
He summoned his strength. “Kaitlin. I think we need to leave Vegas back in Vegas.”
“We tried.”
That was true.
“But it didn’t work,” she pointed out.
“Blame Elvis,” he drawled, fixing his gaze firmly on her face and telling himself to leave it right there.
Her smile grew. “You’re funnier than you let on, you know?”
He gritted his teeth against her softening expression, those lips, those eyes, that tousled hair. It would be so easy to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
But for the first time in his life, he ignored the powerful urge.
“Thanks for signing the papers,” he offered gruffly.
“Thanks for giving me a job.”
T
he specter of her previous designs appeared inside his head. He didn’t know what he’d do if she insisted on resurrecting them.
Now might not be the time. Then again, now might be the perfect time. They seemed to have come to a truce. Maybe he should take advantage of it.
“You know that building has been in my family for five generations,” he declared.
“That doesn’t mean it can’t look good.”
“There are a lot of different ways to make it look good.” Classic ways. Functional ways. They were a transportation company, for goodness’ sake, not an art museum.
He wished he could interest her in using the Hugo Rosche plans as a jumping-off point. Hugo had taken over after he’d canceled Hutton Quinn. Zach had paid a penalty to get out of the contract. But Hugo had left on good terms with a reference and several prospective clients set up by Zach. Hugo’s plans made the most of the existing layout, and they’d only take about six months to implement.
“And I’m going to find the best one,” she breezily promised. Her bravado frightened him.
“It’s my heritage you’re playing with, you know.”
Her expression faltered for a split second, something close to pain flitting through her eyes. But she recovered instantly, and the confidence returned. “Then, you’re a very lucky man, Zach Harper. Because I’m going to make your heritage a whole lot better.”
Three
The following week, Kaitlin and Lindsay made their way into the bright pool of sunshine on the roof of the Harper Transportation building. The cement was solid beneath Kaitlin’s feet, and the building seemed to fit seamlessly into its surroundings. Modern high-rises towered over on two sides, while across Liberty, they studied a row of dignified—if chipped—lion statues, and looked farther to the river.
The roof was square, blocked on one side by the service level and staircase. It was bordered by a three-foot-high concrete wall. Years of rain had stained it, but the mottled color evoked a certain nobility. Kaitlin couldn’t help wonder what it would be like to work under the same roof as five generations of your ancestors.
Her mother had died when she was born. Her father was “unknown,” not even a name on a birth certificate. And if nineteen-year-old Yvette Saville had had relatives somewhere nobody ever found them. All Kaitlin had of her own heritage was a single, frayed and blurry photo of her mother, and the address of the rooming house where Yvette had been living prior to Kaitlin’s birth.
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