She started toward the nearest table filled with discarded glasses, but he caught her hand.
She met his gaze. "Surely you don't mean—"
"Why not? Scared?"
Her look said he was a fool for asking. "I'm hired to work, not party till the cows come home."
"And I pay the bills," he countered, stepping closer to slide his arm around her waist and pull her into the dance.
"Not for this, you don't."
He held her gaze, feeling several pairs of eyes watching them, including Liz's. "It's just a dance."
"Do you always use the advantage for your own means?"
Her expression turned sweet, yet he saw the fury lying beneath. "Always." The music was soft and slow, and he nudged her closer.
Her brows shot up. "Mr. Donahue."
"Yes, Miss Holt?" God, she smelled good.
"That's too close."
"All depends on the perspective. And they—" he inclined his head to the guests "—don't matter right now. You're aware I paged you."
"I know. Four times."
"You wanted to humble me."
"Saintly creature though I am, miracles are not my specialty."
Over her head, he scanned his home, his guests. "I would say they were." He looked down at her. "I'm sorry."
She looked up. "Apology accepted."
He frowned. "Doesn't sound like it."
She batted her lashes dramatically. "Why, sah, I'm most grateful and thank you evah so much for concernin' yourself with little ol' me." He grinned, and her expression returned to normal, though hinting sarcasm. "You were acting like a complete jerk, you know."
God, he liked her frankness. "Yes, I was."
"That's one for the manhunters."
His lips flattened in a thin line. "I wasn't aware we were at battle."
Madison sighed, mentally chastising herself. He'd apologized, and antagonizing him wasn't going to win her brownie points if she needed a reference. "The South has surrendered, sir. The white flag is up."
He eyed her for a second. "Then tell me, Miss Holt, what the heck does poe-dunk mean?"
"Diddly-squat … nothing. My daddy says it a lot." She responded, smiling. "How come you didn't know? You're from the South."
He shook his head. "I moved here when I expanded my company ten years ago. I was born and raised in Ohio."
Her brows rose. "A Yankee." This was news to her, especially since he had a rather nice drawl.
He grinned, and her stomach flipped end over end. "I'm just chalking up the black marks, huh?"
"I'd give a tally, but the white flag still flies," she reminded him with a smile.
Nodding acknowledgement, Alex sashayed them across the floor, her hand small and warm in his, her body radiating a heat that had nothing to do with the humid Savannah night. She kept a respectable distance between them, yet her hand on his shoulder shifted every now and then, fingertips smoothing the fabric. It soothed, and he simply stared, enjoying the sensation.
"You don't like me very much, do you?" he said.
"I don't know you well enough to make that strong a judgment." Her lips curved. "Let's just say you've lived up to my expectations."
Alex didn't like how much that stung, whether she meant it to or not and he was about to clarify it when the music changed to something quicker by the Drifters. She looked suddenly excited, and the muscles squeezed in his throat.
"This is one of my favorite songs."
"Then we can't let it go to waste." He moved her across the floor to the beat of the music, feeling her reluctantly fall in step with him. "You got this one?"
He flung the challenge with his Irish eyes, and she flipped it back. "Get ready to rock, rich boy."
"You're drawing battle lines again, darlin'," he drawled, then spun her out and pulled her back, rocking with her tight against his front.
"Not bad for a corporate yahoo," she said as he twirled her to face him.
"Are you saying I'm stuck-up?"
"No," she said looking him over. "Just stuck."
He frowned, affronted and confused in the same instance and she laughed in spite of it, liking that he wasn't totally in control and letting him twirl her out. They matched step for step in the intricate pattern before coming together again. Neither noticed as the guests and servants stopped to watch, then cleared the floor as they danced.
And boy, could he. It surprised her, his grace, and she felt weightless as he expertly led. "Where did you learn?"
"I wasn't always a company president."
She gave him her best, do-tell, I-would-never-have-thought look.
His lips twitched.
"My parents were great dancers." He noticed a flicker of pain in her eyes before it was gone. "So are you."
"You too, Yankee."
"I don't consider myself a Yankee, Miss Holt."
"Until you're comfortable saying 'y'all,' 'fixin' to go' and know someone named Bubba, you're still a Yankee."
He laughed, the rich sound rumbling in his chest, bringing heads around as he yanked on her hand, spinning her sharply into his arms and up against his chest. The impact knocked her breathless, her eyes flaring wide, her hands clutching his upper arms. Nothing in her life prepared her for the exquisite feel of honed muscle and man layered tight to her body. Her insides shifted, broke loose.
Only one arm around her slim waist, Alex bent, sliding her low against him to lay her back over his arm for a big finish at the end of the song.
The guests cheered, whistling and applauding.
Alex and Madison stared, trapped.
Every nerve in his body sizzled with the feel of her against him, hip to hip, and in his mind he saw her like this, bowing back as he tasted her rosy flesh, naked and brazen as her sharp tongue. He grew hard and was helpless to control it, knew she could feel it when her eyes flared. Then in a flash of abandon, he wanted her to see the danger of a man like him.
He was ruthless in all things. It's why he owned a multimedia conglomerate at thirty-four. And though she might have all the qualities to make some man a terrific wife, she was right – even if he scraped away the layers, he wasn't husband material. But that didn't smother the animal desire he experienced this close to her. And he was afraid nothing would.
He straightened slowly, gazing into her sultry dark eyes. "Thank you, Miss Holt." He didn't let her go, the contact so hot he thought he'd burn to ashes right there.
Madison swallowed, her body screaming to rub against him, her mouth burning to feel his. "You're welcome, sir." She pushed out of his arms and looked at the crowd, giving them a quick curtsy.
Alex didn't take his eyes off her as she quickly scooped up a tray and collected glasses, stacked dishes. She handed the tray to a server while encouraging others to keep dancing.
"You must teach me that," came from his side, and he dragged his gaze to Elizabeth.
"Sure, Liz." He swung her into his arms. They danced, unhurried and private, yet in the back of his mind, in a place he didn't want to go, he longed for the feel of Madison, dark-haired and sexy as midnight mist.
* * *
Gradually the guests departed, and Alex felt a little humbled when Madison pulled a basket from the hall closet, handing each guest a gift of local homemade jam wrapped in ribbon and tulle as they left. Her thoughtfulness made this a success, and he wished he could do more than pay the bill. But his thoughts centered on the wrong part of his anatomy when she was around, hazardous territory as far as he was concerned, and he told himself he was glad she'd be out of his life in a couple of hours.
With a wave to the last guest, Madison hurried to the kitchen while Alex stood out front, watching the limos drive away. He lingered, loosening his tie and wishing he hadn't quit smoking and had a cigarette handy. He headed inside, returning to the kitchen. The catering staff looked up from repackaging freshly washed dishes and glasses the instant he stepped inside.
"You did a tremendous job, people. I am eternally grateful."
> "You're welcome, Mr. Donahue," they said in unison.
Madison slipped up beside him and he glanced down. He felt drained and sweaty and damned if she didn't look fresh, as if the party was just starting.
She leaned on the counter and, with a look of pure deviltry, handed him the bill.
His gaze dropped to the bottom line. "I didn't know After Eight would do anything at this price."
"They don't. In fact, with the short notice, they wanted nearly three times that." He looked confused. "I used Jasmine Knights on Abercorn." She motioned to someone, and Alex saw the woman he'd met the second day coming toward them. "This is Christine Knight. Her company did all this on such short notice."
Alex shook her hand, praising her efforts, her staff and insisted that from now on, he'd call on her.
"Please do, but try a little more than a week before the event, Mr. Donahue."
Alex flushed, realizing that he'd demanded a lot from all these people.
"That's it for tonight, don't you think, Christine?" Madison asked, and when Christine nodded gratefully, she looked up at Alex.
He motioned to Christine and the women followed him into his office. From his desk he took out his checkbook, a mammoth thing, Madison thought and immediately wrote a check, handing it to Christine.
She blinked at the amount.
Christine left and Madison stared across the desk at him. "The leftovers are in the freezer and fridge in meal packages, Mr. Donahue—"
"You can call me Alex, you know."
Her posture tightened. "I'd rather not."
He shrugged, unaffected, then left his chair, rounding the edge of the desk and resting his rear there. "You saved my bacon."
She met his gaze head on. "Let's be honest, Mr. Donahue. I saved you from letting Elizabeth Murray think she could get her manicured French nails into you."
That brow went up.
"Desperate, weren't you?"
Painfully, he thought, but he wasn't going to admit that to her, and simply stared.
She waved him off, grabbing her purse from the chair near the door. Alex hurried after her. She was already opening the front door.
"Can I drive you home? It's late."
"Thank you, but I have my ride." She stepped out. A red pickup truck sat in his driveway, the engine running, the bartender, David, in the driver's seat, smoking a cigarette. Something close to jealousy speared through him. He looked down at her, wanting to say something, do something, and though the urge to kiss her nearly knocked him over, he put out his hand. She clasped it warmly.
"Nice doing business with you, Yankee." With that, she turned and walked to the truck, her handbag knocking against the sexiest behind he'd ever seen.
Alex watched until they pulled out, then turned into the house and shut the door. He leaned back against it, inhaling the lingering scent of magnolias and knowing he would never smell the flower again and not think of her.
* * *
But he did think of her. For a week her image, the sweet feel of her against him when they'd danced, haunted him, irritating him. No woman ever commanded his senses so thoroughly, and he tried spending time with other women, any woman, to get her out of his mind. When he managed an entire night without her walking through his dreams, he thought, that was that.
Yet a day later his entire financial world hinged on having a wife.
Right now.
And he could think of only one person who might be willing to play the role.
* * *
Chapter 4
«^»
"I can't ask her to do that, Alexander," Katherine said from behind her desk.
"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." Alex was too close to let anything stop him now. He'd worked his entire life to this point – to regaining the company his father had started and been forced to sell in the face of a failing economy and his mother's cancer treatments. Both losses had killed his dad. And a deathbed promise had kept Alex pushing and working until now he had the cash to buy anything he wanted. And he wanted Little People Toys. But convincing Angus O'Malley that his toy company, Alexander's dad's old company, would be in the hands of a reliable fellow Irishman was harder than he imagined.
There was a thirty-day time limit on this sale before it went public. If it did, Alex wouldn't stand a chance against the bigger guns of the industry. He'd already invested half his life for this. Angus didn't have any sons, and his daughters were well married, their spouses having no desire to take the reins. Reins Alex wanted. The time was now.
"I have to consider her feelings in this."
"What feelings? It's fake. For one night, maybe two."
Her eyes narrowing, Katherine tapped the gold pen against her lips. "You are asking her to lie to a client of yours so you can get a deal." She leaned back in the plush, maroon silk chair. "What happens when the contracts are done and the client learns you aren't really together? It's all a bit underhanded."
"It's taking the advantage. O'Malley is on the verge of sealing this up, anyway. He wants to retire, but he's a die-hard family man. The company logo is 'Happy Families are Our Families,' for crying out loud. He wants to see his employees keep their jobs, and for some reason he thinks my lifestyle doesn't promise that. Being engaged or married might make the difference to him." Alex hadn't started his own company with a woman at his side, and he hated being judged like that, especially when the thought of marriage made his stomach knot. "He wants the company to grow, and I can make it huge." And I have to get it, he thought. I promised.
"I don't doubt that, sugah, but this is not the normal Wife Incorporated duties. Madison is very dear to me, and I won't see her reputation ruined because you want to make more money than God." He scowled slightly, and she leaned across the desk. "You are asking her to flat out lie for you. And Madison won't like playacting at all."
"How do you know for sure, if you don't ask her?"
Katherine sighed, sinking back into the chair. "Why not ask Elizabeth?"
He made a rude sound and fell back into his chair. "Elizabeth will have this all over the city in a day, and I'll be walking down the aisle by next week. That's not in my plans."
"Then I was right," came from somewhere behind. Alex jumped to his feet and turned, his insides doing an unaccustomed lurch as she stepped farther into the room. She stopped a few feet from him, looking too damn good in jeans and a black T-shirt.
"You did take the bid and hire Wife Incorporated to keep her at bay."
"You make her sound like a hound."
"You said that, I didn't." She sent him a smile that read ha-ha. "Guess it didn't work if you're engaged."
"I'm not. Nor will I ever be."
His tone snapped with finality, and Madison frowned, glancing at Katherine. "I thought I heard—"
"You need to discuss this in private." Katherine stood and rounded the large polished desk.
"I don't have anything to talk about with Mr. Donahue. I have to get going, anyway. Daddy needs me."
"Please, stay for a minute and hear him out." Katherine walked to the conference table and poured two cups of coffee from the silver service, then carried them back. "Sit. Talk." Pointedly she met Alex's gaze. "Remember what I said." They accepted the cups and watched as she left the large office.
Then they stared at each other.
Madison set the cup on Kat's blotter, dropped her handbag on the floor, then sat. "Well, do you need another hostess?"
Alex started to take a sip of coffee, then sighed and set his cup aside, as well. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he rested his rear against the desk edge. "No, I need a … fiancée."
Madison raised her brows a bit and listened as he explained about O'Malley.
"You've already told him you're engaged … haven't you." It wasn't a question.
He held her gaze, the look so remote it made her shiver. "Not quite."
Her breath raced into her lungs. "You said you were married!"
He nodded, and inside his pocket his
fingers clenched. Angus had backed him into a corner, and that he'd allowed it to happen, with all his experience, was embarrassing to say the least. It was reckless desperation, he decided, but he was facing a thirty-day time limit on fulfilling his dreams.
"You want me to play the role?"
He paused and then said, "Yes."
She met his gaze. "Why?"
Her grilling stare made him squirm. "You're attractive, witty, smart—"
"And none of your business associates or friends know me. Except the few at the party, and that's a memory now. I can be swept away like all the rumors about you."
He let out a short, hard breath, about to contradict, except he knew that was it exactly. "Yes." Though he wouldn't have put it quite that way.
Neither her eyes nor her expression shifted. "Good. You are not the kind of man I want my daddy thinking I'd even date, anyway."
He straightened. "What the hell does that mean?"
She leveled him a frosty look. "You are a ruthless businessman, Mr. Donahue." And that was the only thing driving him right now, she knew. "And this proves it. Now, I don't cotton to judging people before I know them well, but you come with a lot of baggage, and it ain't pretty."
Alex glanced away, the lines bracketing his mouth tightening. He'd never cared that others listened to rumor and gossip. In fact, sometimes it helped him, but for reasons he didn't want to examine, knowing that she'd heard the worst of it left a bitter taste in his mouth. But then, it would keep another neat line between them. "It's all true."
She scoffed. "Flattering yourself, huh?"
He turned his head, meeting her gaze. "Then some of it must be pretty good, huh?"
Madison wasn't going to match wits with him now. "You do realize what this entails, even for just an evening?"
"I have an idea." His smile bordered on wolfish, and her heart skipped.
"Had many wives?"
"No. God, no."
GOING … GOING … WED! Page 4