Читать книгу His Marriage Bonus - Cathy Thacker Gillen - Страница 11

“Don’t we both wish that were the case,” Mitch said, tightening his arms around Lauren’s waist, holding her closer yet, so their bodies were all but intertwined. “But not a chance,” he murmured, looking deep into her eyes. “Because I never do anything I don’t want to do.”

Gazing into his eyes, listening to the conviction in his low voice, Lauren could believe him.

The phone rang. Mitch leaned back just enough to be able to reach into the breast pocket of his suit coat and extract his cell phone. He checked the caller ID screen, pushed the button. Frowning, he held the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Jack, what’s up? …I don’t know. Well, if he’s not answering…yeah… I’ll be right there.” Mitch ended the connection and slid his cell phone back into his suit jacket. He released Lauren with a beleaguered sigh, the sexual electricity of moments before forgotten. “We’ve got to go. There’s trouble at the docks.”

Lauren picked up her handbag from the floor next to the sofa. “What kind of trouble?” she asked, sincerely interested.

Mitch looked at her with sudden wariness. “Problem with a shipment,” he said vaguely, after a moment, looking strangely loath to confide anything in her at all. “The company attorney, Jack Granger, can’t find my father—he’s not picking up his cell phone—so I’ve got to handle the situation.”

Lauren wondered if that was all Mitch was upset about. Somehow, it seemed like more than just that worrying him. “Does this happen a lot?” she asked casually as they walked outside to his car, wanting somehow to help him feel better about whatever was going on, even if it was just by talking about it.

Mitch tensed as they reached the passenger side. “Lately, more than I’d like to admit,” he said, making no move to open the car door for her. “What about what happened just now?” Mitch backed her up against the side of the Lexus and caged her there with his arms, one hand planted on either side of her. “Does that happen often?” All too aware of the sudden pounding of her heart, Lauren leaned back against the metal, putting as much distance as she could—which wasn’t much—between herself and his strong, hard body. Flushing self-consciously despite herself, she asked, “Does what happen often?”

Mitch favored Lauren with a challenging half smile she found even more disturbing than the way he was holding her captive. “Do you tease men about seducing them?” he queried in a low, inherently seductive tone.

Lauren’s neck and shoulders drew taut as a bow, even as she defiantly lifted her chin. “I’m not a flirt, if that’s what you’re asking,” she stated plainly.

Mitch shifted so his feet were braced slightly apart, his knees nudging hers. “You were doing a pretty good job of it,” he observed, giving her a narrow-eyed glance.

To both our surprise, Lauren thought, aware she had never before teased a man in such a wanton manner. She couldn’t even say why she had done it exactly. She’d just felt Mitch pulling away from her in a way he hadn’t earlier in the day. And she’d wanted to goad him back into the reckless good cheer and impulsive sexuality that had so marked their encounter earlier in the day. She had wanted this week of dating to be something she didn’t have to think about or consider. She had wanted it to mean nothing more than a reckless, meaningless fling that was forgotten almost as soon as it happened. And the only way she had known how to accomplish that was to keep the chemistry flowing between them—to the point it overrode all common sense and customary judgment. Too late, she saw what a mistake that had been. She wasn’t an impulsive person, and neither was Mitch. “Just giving you a hard time,” she said lightly.

Mitch quirked an eyebrow and looked down before returning his probing gaze to hers. “You did that, all right.”

Lauren’s jaw dropped in shock. She was flooded with embarrassment. “Mitch!”

Ignoring her censure, he cupped her face in his hands and rubbed his thumb across her lower lip in a way that had her heating with desire from head to toe. Looking at her, Mitch warned softly and seriously, “Don’t play with fire, Lauren. Not unless you want to get burned.”

LAUREN WAS SILENT during the drive to the docks. As much as she loathed the scolding way he had done it, Mitch had been right to warn her away from any disingenuous behavior. She had been prodding him unnecessarily, in a way she had instinctively known he wouldn’t appreciate. She wasn’t sure why. Except that, deep down, she was angry he had seemed, on some level, to be holding her at arm’s length this evening, after coming on to her so strongly that afternoon. And also angry that he hadn’t told her father what he could do with his proposition from the get-go, but instead had helped talk her into it! Not that she’d been a hard sell, Lauren admitted ruefully to herself. She had wanted to turn that mansion into the beautiful showplace it should be for so long. To be able to do that and call it her own home, too, well, it would be a dream come true. She was still going to have to figure out how to sell enough property to be able to pay for the renovations, of course, because there was no way she was marrying Mitch to get the money to do that. But she figured she would solve that problem over time.

Meantime, all she had to do was keep Mitch at arm’s length during their dates for the rest of the week. Given the way they had just ticked each other off without really even trying, she was pretty sure she could do that. She just had to keep him wanting the same thing. Given the vaguely irked look on his face, that too seemed like a done deal.

Jack Granger was waiting for them in his office when they arrived at the Deveraux Shipping Company. The company attorney looked ruggedly handsome in a button-down white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt.

Jack took one look at Lauren, then turned to Mitch and, looking much more weary and disillusioned than a successful, career-driven bachelor in his early thirties should, said grimly, “Damn it, Mitch. You know how your father feels about consorting with the enemy. How could you have brought Lauren Heyward here? Tonight, of all nights!”

BESIDE HIM, Mitch felt Lauren take a step back. Her shock was every bit as palpable as his own anger. Jack Granger had worked for the firm for years. First as a dockworker, summers while he was in high school, later as an intern. Now he was the company attorney, and, as a personal favor to the Deveraux clan, the legal expert the entire family relied on for advice. Jack had recommended the lawyer who handled Mitch’s divorce for him.

Consequently, Jack knew things about what had gone on between Mitch and Jeannette that no one else in the world knew—save Jeannette, Mitch and their two attorneys. But that didn’t mean Jack could chastise Mitch when it came to company business. On the executive level, they were on equal footing. Mitch looked out for the continued growth of the company. Jack enforced existing contracts, even when those contracts were handshake deals. As CEO and president of DSC, Tom Deveraux presided over them both. And it was Tom both wanted to please.

“Excuse me?” Lauren stammered to Jack.

Mitch held up a hand, letting Lauren know it was all right, he could handle this. He turned to Jack. “My father knows I’m seeing Lauren tonight.”

Jack grimaced at Mitch and raked a hand through his dark blond hair. “I doubt Tom would approve of you bringing her here when we’re in the middle of a crisis.”

No helping it, Mitch thought. He wasn’t about to bow out on his date with Lauren and lose his chance at merging the two most powerful shipping companies on the entire eastern seaboard. Not even if Lauren’s being here made Jack uncomfortable. “Like I said, Jack, my father knows Lauren is with me,” Mitch repeated evenly, letting Jack know with a glance the decision had been made. A decision for which Mitch was fully accountable. Mitch sat in one of the two armchairs in front of Jack’s desk and signaled for Lauren to do the same. “Now, what’s up?”

Jack sighed and took a seat behind a desk littered with contracts. He leaned back in the leather chair, rested his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his hands in front of him. “There’s been a delay with the five hundred luxury cars we were supposed to ship to Miami tonight. Only half of them arrived,” he confided, concerned. “LC Motors insists we wait for the rest of them before taking off. Meanwhile, we’ve got containers of perishable foods on the ship that need to go out as scheduled tonight.”

What a mess, Mitch thought. He was glad Jack had called him in to help handle it. “Have you tried putting the rest of the cars on a different ship?” Mitch asked.

Jack nodded. “Nothing’s available for five days. Everything else is booked solid.”

Mitch slanted a sidelong look at Lauren. To his chagrin—he would have much preferred she had been bored or distracted—she looked as tense and concerned and attentive as he and Jack. “Those shipments can’t be moved around?” Mitch asked.

“No.” Jack frowned again. “It’s all cargo from regular clientele.”

Realizing it was going to be a long evening, Mitch stood. Preparing to head for his office, he took off his suit jacket, unbuttoned his collar, and loosened the knot of his tie. “Let me see what I can do.”

Jack gave Lauren a considering look, which seemed to warn her from doing anything that would hurt the Deveraux or the company they owned, as she rose to accompany Mitch down the hall. “I’ll keep trying to get in touch with your dad,” Jack said before they left.

Lauren and Mitch walked down the hall the short distance to his office. “Tough break,” she murmured sympathetically as Mitch opened the door to his own suite of offices and turned on the lights.

“Yes, it is,” Mitch agreed. The question was, how to fix the situation without giving either Lauren—or by extension, her father—a chance to take advantage or betray him, and prove his father and Jack Granger right about her, and her motivation, after all.

Lauren sat down and waited patiently while Mitch worked the phones. To Mitch’s chagrin, he noted uneasily that though he gave her some old Business Week and Fortune magazines to flip through, Lauren secretly appeared to be hanging on to every word he said, even as she turned the pages and pretended to read the material in front of her. Were Jack and his dad right? Mitch wondered as he made yet another call. Was Lauren with him simply to uncover anything that would give her dad the edge in the ongoing competition between the two firms? Or was he right? Mitch wondered. And this was all simple coincidence, albeit an unfortunate one. Problems were a dime a dozen in any business. And missed shipments happened all the time. Generally not, however, when he was “contracted by gentleman’s agreement” to have the daughter of his fiercest competitor, and a savvy businesswoman in her own right, with him.

Half an hour later, Jack came back in. “Any luck?” he asked Mitch hopefully as soon as Mitch hung up the telephone.

Mitch shook his head, displeased to report, “LC Motors and Specialty Foods are both threatening to take their business to one of the Web-based exchanges on the Internet to find alternate transportation if we don’t do as they want.”

If possible, Jack looked even grimmer. “So what are you going to do?” he asked.

Mitch shrugged. “The only thing I can. Order the ship to get under way immediately, with whatever cargo is on it. And then talk to Payton Heyward. See if he’s got a ship we can use for the rest of the cars as soon as they arrive. We ship a lot for both LC Motors and Specialty Foods. We can’t afford to lose either’s business. And that means keeping to the contracted schedule as close as possible.”

Jack shot another long considering look at Lauren before turning back to Mitch.

Mitch knew what Jack was thinking. Jack was thinking he shouldn’t be giving any business to a competitor. Had Mitch not wanted to merge firms with Payton Heyward, he would have agreed. He would have found some other company to handle the cargo rather than do anything to strengthen their chief rival. But he did want to merge firms with Payton, and this was the surest, quickest way to prove that the two powerhouse shipping companies could work together in ways that would benefit—and empower—both.

“You can’t do this on your own,” Jack warned humorlessly at last. “Your father is going to have to sign off on it.”

“If you can find him, I’ll be glad to turn this problem over to him,” Mitch promised. “Until then, I’m going to use my executive powers, as second in command, to do what I have to do to solve the problem.” And the first order of business was to get the loaded ship under way. The second was to find Payton Heyward and get him to cooperate with Mitch in a way Payton had never joined forces with Mitch’s father.

Mitch studied Jack. “Are you with me or not?” he asked.

Jack nodded reluctantly. “I’m with you,” he said. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. ’Cause if you don’t, and this backfires on us in any way, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“DO YOU HAVE PROBLEMS like this all the time?” Lauren asked as they drove the short distance to the penthouse apartment where Payton stayed during the week, in lieu of commuting back and forth between Charleston and his Summerville estate.

“Unfortunately, nowadays, we do,” Mitch explained, trying not to get too used to having Lauren’s soothing, perfumed presence in the car beside him. He turned to look at her as they waited at a red light, and explained, “It used to be that a shipping company established a regular clientele—these were all usually handshake deals—and then the two stuck together, through good times and bad. If there was unusual weather or some other calamity, it wasn’t a problem. Chiefly because there was nowhere else to turn. Now if something goes wrong, a customer can just switch on his computer, go to one of the auction sites on the Web, post his needs. The customer will start getting bids immediately and will usually find an alternate shipper within twenty-four hours.”

Lauren frowned, looking, Mitch thought, more troubled than someone should who had no interest at all in the family business. “But your family’s company doesn’t do that,” Lauren supposed slowly, her soft tone as sympathetic as her pretty, dark brown eyes.

“No, and neither does your father’s,” Mitch said as the traffic light changed, and he pressed his foot down on the accelerator again. “And that’s beginning to cost us both. And it’s a shame. We should both be doing business on the Web as well as the old-fashioned way.”

Lauren raked her teeth across her lower lip. “Why don’t you do that if it’s something you need to be doing to stay competitive?”

Mitch sighed as he turned into the parking lot and guided his Lexus into a visitor space. “I can’t speak for your father,” he said as he cut the engine and turned to Lauren. “But we haven’t done so yet chiefly because all our container ships are filled to capacity, as is.”

“Then why worry about it?” Lauren asked, getting out of the car before Mitch could get around to help her.

Mitch took her elbow as they headed toward the building entrance. “Because the way the shipping business is conducted is changing, Lauren, and both our companies need to change, too—at least stay ahead of the curve. Otherwise, five years from now both could find themselves out of business.”

Lauren said hello to the uniformed doorman and headed for the elevators at the other end of the elegant marble-floored lobby. “If you merge, will you force some of the auction sites to fold?” she asked.

“No.” Mitch stepped into the elevator behind her, taking in the appealing perfection of her skin. “Although statistically about half will fail on their own, anyway, due to poor plans, etcetera. But we will make ourselves stronger, bigger, more competitive. And that’s what both Deveraux and Heyward shipping companies need to do if we’re to keep growing,” he said, looking deep into her eyes and trying to determine once again if he could trust her as much as his gut told him he could.

“I guess you’re right,” Lauren commiserated as she leaned against the railing that lined the back of the elevator and looked up at him. “Whether we like it or not, business—any kind of business—is tough. To stay on top, you really have to be on your toes all the time, not just between the hours of nine to five.”

Like now? Mitch wondered, excruciatingly aware this problem had conveniently happened during the hours of his first arranged date with Lauren, at a time when his father was oddly, and unusually, out of touch with the office.

His instincts kept telling him it was all just a coincidence.

Bitter experience, and his involvement with his ex, told him to be on guard for something more complex and deviously underhanded.

“WHY WOULD I HELP bail you out?” Payton asked, after he had let them both into his apartment. He looked just as suspicious as Mitch felt when Mitch had first learned of the problem.

Excruciatingly aware that although the two of them were tentatively discussing a merger, they were still chief competitors, and not in any way bound to do favors for each other that would hamper their own capacity to do business, Mitch looked Payton straight in the eye. “Because Deveraux Shipping Company will pay you to ship those cars as soon as they arrive at dawn tomorrow morning. And I know you have more shipping capacity than you need right now, thanks to the purchase of those brand-new, state-of-the-art container ships you bought last spring.”

Payton studied Mitch with something akin to respect while Lauren waited nervously nearby. “We’ll get the full fee?” Payton ascertained.

Mitch nodded, knowing now was where it would get particularly tricky, and said, “Minus a ten percent referral fee, of course.” After all, he reasoned practically, Deveraux Shipping had to make something on the deal. Given how thin their profit margins were these days, the lost revenue was going to be hard enough to absorb as it was.

Payton sipped the vanilla-flavored protein shake he had been preparing when they arrived. Despite the way he was dressed—in a golf shirt and slacks—he remained the hard-edged businessman. “That’s highway robbery,” he growled.

“It’s also business you wouldn’t have if I weren’t putting it in your lap.” Mitch took a drink of his own smoothie and found it disgustingly bland and chalky. With effort, he kept from grimacing, even as he noticed Lauren had simply put hers aside. But then, maybe she’d had one of these vitamin-laced health concoctions before. “You don’t have long to decide,” Mitch continued. “If you can’t help me, I’ll go to the next shipping company on my list.”

Lauren crossed her legs and continued to watch the byplay between the two men. She might say she hadn’t the least enthusiasm for the family business, but there was no doubt she had understood and latched on to every word that was being said, both here and earlier, in the Deveraux offices, Mitch noticed. Which meant he was going to have to be more careful than he had expected, because the merger hadn’t happened yet. And might not happen, if at any point during the week Lauren changed her mind and refused to keep her deal with him. Or Mitch failed to convince his own father it was what they needed to do, not just to survive, but to grow.

“Then you will have lost this chance to pick up the extra revenue,” Mitch continued, glancing at his watch, knowing that like it or not, his time was running out. He was going to have to call both LC Motors and Specialty Foods shortly and tell them what was to be done.

Payton Heyward grinned in a way that said he appreciated Mitch’s aggressiveness in solving this problem. “One of my ships just came in this morning. I’ll have them send it over to your docks.”

The two men shook on the deal. Payton consulted the clock above the mantel. It was eleven. He narrowed his eyes at Mitch and Lauren thoughtfully. “I thought the two of you were supposed to be on a date this evening.”

“We were. Are,” Mitch said.

Lauren nodded, her affection for her father shining through now as clearly as her pique with him had earlier that day. “Wherever Mitch goes, I go,” she parried. “At least between the hours of six and midnight.”

Payton harrumphed, looking less than happy about the detour their date had taken, despite the additional business it had brought his company. “Then get back to it,” Payton advised, showing them to the door. “You two have wasted enough time on business, when you should have been courting, as it is.”

“Well, that went a lot easier than I thought it would,” Lauren remarked as they headed back out to Mitch’s car. She turned to Mitch with a sexy smile. “I half expected him to tell you no, and then get on the phone and steal the extra business out from under you.” She paused, shook her head, sighed. “I don’t know what’s happened to him, but he hasn’t been as aggressive at going after business lately as he has been in the past.”

Maybe there were reasons for that, the same reasons that were suddenly prompting Payton Heyward to consider a merger. Uneasily, Mitch realized his father was probably right on the money about one thing. Payton Heyward hadn’t told Mitch everything, just as he hadn’t told his own daughter everything. Hence, it was up to Mitch to use whatever means necessary to discover what was going on behind the scenes, and make certain that Payton wasn’t using Mitch and the Deveraux Shipping Company to bail him out of a messy financial situation or quietly failing business. The last thing Mitch wanted to do was drive his own family company into ruin because he had failed to investigate the obvious.

Oblivious to the grim, suspicious direction of Mitch’s thoughts, Lauren continued, “Take tonight for instance. Since it’s a weeknight, and he’s here in the city, my father’d normally be out courting a major client and showing him the sites. Instead, according to his doorman, he was home all evening, alone. That’s unlike him, Mitch.”

“Maybe he’s just getting older. And can’t keep up the same pace he used to.”

“Maybe.” Lauren sounded unconvinced.

They lapsed into silence until they arrived at the Deveraux mansion. Lauren’s car was parked on the street right where she’d left it before dinner with his father. “I’ll follow you home,” Mitch said.

Lauren consulted her watch. “We still have another forty-five minutes.”

“So we’ll have coffee at your place,” Mitch said with a shrug. “Unless you’d rather go somewhere else. There’s a gourmet coffee shop up on King Street that’s open until midnight—”

“No. My place will be fine.”

Lauren led the way, and five minutes later they arrived at the double house Lauren owned. The stuccoed brick town-house style villa was two rooms wide on both floors and surrounded by palmetto trees and overlooked South Battery. And that evening, as always, the view of the water beyond the seawall was staggeringly beautiful. Moonlight shimmered on the water—ships, some moving gracefully across the water, some at anchor—were visible in the distance.

Mitch inhaled the tangy scent of saltwater as Lauren led the way up the brick sidewalk, across her welcoming porch, and let them inside. The interior of her home was decorated with floral fabrics and antiques.

As soon as Lauren walked in, she went to her answering machine and pressed the button to retrieve her messages. The first two were from clients, confirming or changing dates to view houses. The third was enough to stop Mitch in his tracks.

“Hi, Lauren. Ron Ingalls calling you back. First, just let me say I think it’s great what you’re trying to do for your father. I’m not sure it’s going to be possible—the guy’s no pushover. But sure, I’d be glad to help you try and get what you want. I’m actually going to be in South Carolina on Wednesday, so maybe the two of us can meet then. In the meantime, I’ll try and find the information you need tomorrow and get back to you. Later.” Click.

“I wasn’t aware you knew Ron,” Mitch said mildly.

Lauren turned to Mitch, her expression happy but relaxed. “He and my dad go way back,” Lauren replied, looking as innocent as a newborn babe. “My dad always gets his new container ships from Ingalls Shipbuilding in Newport News, Virginia. You’ve met him, too, I guess.”

Mitch nodded. The forty-year-old executive was an accomplished businessman and a very affable guy. Mitch or his father played golf with Ron whenever Ron was in town, and usually managed to work in some business out on the greens, too. “We’ve bought a couple ships from him. Although we also get ships from a company in Maine, and another one in Connecticut.” Unlike Heyward Shipping Company, DSC preferred not to rely on just one supplier.

“Hmm. Well.” Lauren looked as if she could have cared less about that. She smiled at Mitch casually, the only sign of her inner restlessness the light tapping of her fingers against her thigh. “Did you want some coffee?”

I’d rather sit here and talk about what it is exactly that Ron is going to do for you and your dad. Had Ron been referring to Mitch on the phone, or some other guy who was no pushover? There was no doubt Ron’s allegiance would be to the Heywards before the Deveraux, and it bothered Mitch to think that Lauren could be conspiring with her father to pull something over on Mitch and his father. “That would be great,” Mitch said, doing his best to keep his suspicions to himself.

Lauren smiled again, even more warmly. “The kitchen’s back this way, if you want to come with me.”

“Mind if I stay in here and turn on the news?” Mitch asked. He needed more information—the kind Lauren was not going to give him, and he wanted something to cover the sound of him looking around.

For a second, Lauren looked both taken aback and hurt that he would prefer the company of the television to her, and Mitch felt even more guilty about what he had to do next. But that didn’t change his decision. He had been a chump once where a beautiful woman was concerned. He wasn’t going to ignore the early warning signs again. This time he was going to find out for sure what kind of woman he was dealing with before he got further involved.

“I missed the weather earlier and I want to know if I should get my car washed tomorrow,” Mitch fibbed.

Lauren rolled her eyes. Looking very annoyed, she muttered, “Suit yourself,” and then turned to exit the room. Mitch waited until she had rounded the corner, then switched on the TV and headed for the antique secretary where the phone was. The polished cherry-wood surface was bare except for a pad of paper and pen, and a leather-bound address book—which was filled with addresses and phone numbers of shipping-industry people, as well as countless other Charleston heavy hitters and real estate-industry people.

Of course, that in itself could mean nothing, Mitch reassured himself as he picked up the phone and scrolled through the list of incoming phone calls on Lauren’s caller ID. It was who had called her recently, and how many times, that was going to tell him what he really wanted to know.

LAUREN TOOK HER TIME in the kitchen. She just didn’t understand it. One minute Mitch was warm and personable, exactly the kind of guy she’d like to get involved with. And the next he was all business, as emotionally remote as could be.

Not that she shouldn’t have expected as much, she scolded herself firmly. The fact Mitch Deveraux had even agreed to date her for the sake of a merger should have told her what kind of man he was deep down. The kind who put business first, always. The kind she had always sworn she would avoid.

If she didn’t want the mansion at 10 Gathering Street so very much…

But she did.

So she had to get through this date, and six more, Lauren told herself firmly, looking at her watch. Luckily, she only had ten more minutes to go. She filled two coffee cups, put them on a silver serving tray along with cream and sugar and headed back into the living room. As she had expected, Mitch was sitting on the sofa, his eyes glued to the TV.

For the next ten minutes they sat and sipped coffee and made such inane conversation she knew she’d be hard put to recall any of it even half an hour later. Promptly at the stroke of midnight, he stood and prepared to go. Without making the slightest attempt to kiss her good-night, he thanked her politely for the coffee and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at six.”

Wondering what had happened to the man who hadn’t hesitated to put the moves on her earlier in the day, Lauren watched Mitch Deveraux stroll down the front walk to his car. She told herself she should be relieved that Mitch suddenly wanted to take a step back and proceed a hell of a lot more cautiously, as well. But she wasn’t. It didn’t matter that it was a sure way to get hurt when the week came inevitably to an end. She didn’t care that setting herself up that way was foolish. She had wanted another hot, reckless, impetuous kiss. Or two, or three. The question was—why hadn’t he?