Читать книгу Big-city Bachelor - Ingrid Weaver - Страница 11

“And this is my office,” Alex said, holding open a door.

Lizzie stepped inside eagerly, knowing this was the culmination of her guided tour of Whitmore and Hamill. Maybe now they would get down to business and she’d learn what her responsibilities in this company would be. Besides lending her name to the letterhead, that is.

For the past hour or so Alex had ushered her around the entire complex layout of the thirty-sixth floor. They had progressed from meeting rooms to the tape editing rooms and the layout studio and then on to an array of individual offices ranging from windowless cubbyholes to spacious corner rooms.

As Alex had introduced her to the rest of the staff, she’d been astounded by the number and the variety of the people who worked here. She met a few fashion plates who could have been clones of Pamela the receptionist, and she also met some genuinely friendly people who had claimed to have been very fond of her uncle. It had been a pleasant experience, since overall the staff had treated her with the same polite hospitality that Alex had been displaying.

Their last stop had been the office her uncle had used, but there had been little to see there—Alex had already explained that Roland hadn’t been involved with the company for a few years. Lizzie had lingered, hoping to find some clue to the character of the man she’d never known, but the shelves and the desk were bare, giving away nothing that could begin to satisfy her growing curiosity.

Walking into Alex’s office now, Lizzie admitted to herself that her uncle wasn’t the only partner of Whitmore and Hamill that she was curious about.

“Why don’t you relax for a while?” Alex suggested, pausing beside the door. “I’ll ask Rita to make us some coffee while we wait for Jeremy.”

Lizzie smiled and agreed, pleased that her tongue seemed to have recovered fully from its initial paralysis.

Alex slipped out of the office with the same animal grace that characterized all his movements. His voice drifted back through the doorway as he spoke quietly with the dour, middle-aged woman he’d introduced as his secretary. Even though Lizzie couldn’t make out the words, she tilted her head, simply enjoying the sound. No matter how often she heard him speak, his words still evoked thoughts of spells and fairy tales.

She might never get used to his appearance, either. What normal woman would? Especially one whose last suitor had considered a ripped-out cedar tree to be romantic.

Hold on there, girl, she cautioned herself. This was her business partner. Their association had happened literally by accident. Just because she had trouble keeping her imagination in check didn’t mean that she had to let him know about it. Prince Charming. Lordy, he’d think she was a complete fool if he ever knew the thoughts she’d been entertaining about him.

Lizzie turned from the door and walked slowly around the room, pausing to read the framed certificates that attested to awards of excellence that the company had won. Her company. Whether it was deserved or not, she felt a surge of the same kind of pride she’d felt on seeing the plaque with her name.

It’s yours. For once in your life, you have something that’s just for you.

Well, it wasn’t all hers. Fifty percent of it was Alex’s. Clasping her hands behind her back, she moved toward the massive L-shaped oak desk that dominated the spacious office. There was a computer set up on one side and an area for paperwork on the other. No clutter marred the polished surface, though. Everything was neatly aligned, from the gold pen set and the leather-trimmed blotter to the telephone that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a space shuttle. Even the picture frame was angled so that it was parallel to the pen set.

Picture? After a quick glance at the empty office doorway, Lizzie moved closer and picked up the frame to get a better look. To her surprise, it was a photograph of a pair of boys. Brothers, perhaps even twins, judging by the smiles that were reflections of each other. They both had black hair and dimples and were completely captivating. Almost as captivating as…

Who? Their uncle? Their father? What relation were these children to Alex? They had to be related somehow. There was a strong resemblance to him, not only in their coloring but in their expressions. Even though the boys appeared to be no more than five years old, there was a definite twinkle in their eyes that would probably develop into full-blown charm by the time they grew up.

Lizzie felt herself smile in response.

“Rita reminded me it’s getting late,” Alex said, striding into the office with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. “We’ll try to wrap up our business with Jeremy as quickly as possible.”

“That’s fine with me.” She glanced up. “Who are these adorable kids?”

He hesitated when he saw what she was holding. “They’re my sons.”

“I can see the resemblance. What are their names?”

“Jason and Daniel. Jason’s the one on the left.”

“They really are adorable. How old are they?”

“They’ll be five in a few months.”

Her smile grew. “Twins. I figured that. We have a pair of twin girls in the day care center where I work. They’re always full of mischief, but they’re only three so the mischief isn’t that hard to contain.”

“You sound as if you enjoy your work.”

“I love it. I’m a sucker for kids, always have been.” She replaced the photograph on his desk and reached to take the cup he was holding out to her.

He moved the photo she had replaced, realigning it so that it was parallel to the pen set, then guided Lizzie to the sitting area in front of the corner window. He waited until she had settled comfortably into one of the deep burgundy armchairs before taking the matching one across from her. “So, how long have you worked in the day care business, Lizzie?”

“Almost four years now.”

“And before that?”

“Oh, I worked at the Packenham Dairy and then helped my stepbrother Benjamin at the cheese factory.”

He sipped his coffee slowly, watching her over the rim of his cup. “Cheese,” he repeated.

She nodded. “Pedley Cheese. He couldn’t afford to keep me on, so that’s why I started up the day care center.”

“That’s an interesting switch. What made you decide on day care?”

“It seemed to come naturally. Like I said, I’m a sucker for kids. Probably because of my family.”

“Oh? I thought you were your uncle’s only surviving relative.”

“I mean my stepfamily. When my father died, my mother remarried, and her new husband was a widower with three young children of his own. I was fourteen, and as the oldest kid in the household, I ended up helping raise the little ones.”

“Do your mother and stepfather still live in Packenham Corners?”

“Junction,” she corrected. “Packenham Corners is on the other side of the county line.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she said generously. “Lots of folks get them mixed up. Anyhow, my stepfather, Warren Pedley, still lives on the family farm about ten miles from town, but my mother died the year after she married Warren.”

He sat forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs as he cradled his cup between his hands. “That must have been very difficult for you.”

She shook her head, not wanting to remember those dark years of her adolescence. “The Pedleys were wonderful. They always made me feel like one of the family.”

“And in return, you tried to pay them back by being helpful,” he said.

The accuracy of his insight startled her. They had met less than two hours ago, yet he had zeroed in on one of the major reasons her life had taken the direction it had. She studied him over the rim of her cup. Maybe there was more to him than a pretty face.

Of course he was more than a pretty face, she thought, exasperated with herself for dwelling on his appearance. The success exhibited by the luxury of the Whitmore and Hamill offices, as well as the famous ads and slew of awards that were displayed on the walls, made it obvious that there had to be plenty of intelligence behind those brown bedroom eyes.

“I suppose you’re right,” she continued. “I still like to help them out, but instead of baby-sitting them, I baby-sit their children. Except for my youngest stepbrother. He’s a long way from settling down and raising a family of his own.” She heard the wistful note in her voice and shifted uncomfortably. “Of course, with so many nieces and nephews to love, he could be happy just the way he is.”

“You sound as if you’re still very close to your family.”

“Oh, yes. We’re not blood relatives, but we’re still close.” Her gaze strayed back to the photo of the twins. “You’re very fortunate to have two sons. They look like fine children.”

“Thank you.”

Suddenly she realized what should have been obvious at her first glance of Alex’s children. It had taken two people to produce those boys. That meant they had a mother, too.

She glanced at the large, capable-looking hands that clasped his coffee cup. There was no sign of a gold band on any of those long fingers, but that was no guarantee these days.

Was Alex married?

Not that it should make one whit of difference to her, of course. So it was simply polite curiosity, from one business partner to another, that prompted her to ask the next question. “Does your wife take care of the children while you work?”

“Excuse me?”

“As a day care provider myself, I was simply wondering who’s taking care of Jason and Daniel.”

“My housekeeper, Mrs. Gray. She’s been with us for the past few months.”

Simple curiosity, she told herself again. “I know several working couples who would prefer to have someone in their home like that.”

“Mrs. Gray certainly keeps things running smoothly.”

“What kind of work does your wife do?” she asked, abandoning her attempts at subtlety.

“I’m not exactly sure what Tiffany does these days. Right now she’s in Europe.”

Well, that answered her question. Sort of. “I see.”

“We divorced three years ago, Lizzie. She’s on her honeymoon with her new husband.”

She felt a blush warm her cheeks. Darn. He’d probably known what she was angling to find out all along. “I’m sorry.”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug that would appear casual if it weren’t for the way his knuckles whitened on his coffee cup. “These things happen. One learns from one’s mistakes.”

She felt a stirring of sympathy for him, coupled with a strange urge to reach out and cover his hands with hers. Instead, she placed her empty cup on the table beside her and laced her fingers in her lap. “So,” she said in a blatant attempt to change the subject, “how did you get into the advertising business, Alex?”

The flash of white knuckles disappeared as if it had never been. His charming smile was firmly back in place. “The art of persuasion has interested me from the time I finished college. After my first position with an advertising firm evaporated when the company failed, I decided to establish my own agency.”

“Is that when you met my uncle?”

“Yes, we met through a mutual acquaintance. Roland and I formed a partnership and the rest, as they say, is history.”

She suspected there was probably a lot more to the story, but before she could form her next question, there was a quiet knock on the open door.

Alex glanced over his shoulder, then rose to his feet. “Hello, Jeremy.”

The man who walked into the room looked exactly as Lizzie would have expected from hearing his voice on the phone. At least this wasn’t a surprise, she thought wryly.

Jeremy Ebbet was a few inches short of six feet and a few pounds shy of filling out the shoulders of his pinstriped suit. His hair was dark blond and thinning and his face bore the long-suffering worry lines of a farmer in a drought. After shaking hands with Lizzie and exchanging a few stilted pleasantries, he sat on the edge of the chair beside Alex, set his briefcase on his knees like a grasshopper with a wheat husk and clicked open the lid.

“We appreciate your willingness to clear up this situation so promptly, Miss Hamill,” he said, adjusting his steel-rimmed glasses with a poke of his index finger.

Alex crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair while he listened to Jeremy set the second phase of their plan into motion.

As Alex had advised him, Jeremy emphasized how Roland hadn’t been involved with Whitmore and Hamill for years, and how the company had been running profitably under Alex’s sole control. Lizzie nodded, already prepared for this by the carefully chosen comments Alex had made during their tour.

“Your uncle was in the process of negotiating the sale of his shares when he met with his tragic accident,” Jeremy said, withdrawing a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and passing them to Lizzie. “Here’s a copy of our offer.”

She nibbled on her lower lip as she concentrated on reading, drawing Alex’s attention to her mouth yet again. Her generous, ready-to-break-into-a-smile mouth. Alex had been distracted by it unexpectedly throughout the course of the afternoon. Especially when it had curved with a touch of wistful sweetness while she’d been looking at the picture of his sons.

Damn. She might be going about it in a completely different manner, but if he didn’t maintain control of his thoughts, in her own way Lizzie might prove to be as disruptive to the smooth course of his life as her uncle had been.

Yet another reason to close this deal and get her on a plane back to Packenham Corners. No, Junction. Whatever.

“As you can see,” Jeremy continued, “we have substituted your name for Roland’s, since you are now the sole owner of his fifty percent.”

She stopped nibbling and pursed her lips in a whispered whistle.

The pucker made Alex think about kissing. He shifted in his chair and focused on her hand, the one that would hold a pen.

“Is that what my shares are worth?” she asked in a voice that approached a squeak.

“It’s an excellent offer,” Jeremy said.

“Lord love a duck.”

“Excuse me?”

“I had no idea.” She looked up, turning toward Alex. “This is so fast. I just found out I own half the company, and now you want to buy me out?”

Alex wrenched his gaze from her mouth and met her eyes. “It must be overwhelming for you, but I’m sure you see that it would be the best solution for everyone.” He paused a moment before adding the final nail. “It’s what Roland would have wanted.”

“But I had thought that…I mean, when you arranged for me to come all the way out here…” She trailed off, shaking her head as she looked at the paper in her hand. “Do you mind if I take this back to the hotel with me?”

“Go ahead,” Alex said. “Take all the time you want to consider it, Lizzie. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Thanks. I need to think about this.”

Alex pushed back his sleeve and checked his watch. “Let’s continue this discussion tomorrow. In the meantime, why don’t we grab dinner and then catch a Broadway show? I understand this is your first visit to New York?”

She folded the offer and slipped it into her purse, then smiled and nodded her head.

Like taking candy from—

Rising to his feet, Alex refused to listen to the nagging little voice. He also refused to acknowledge the tug at his pulse as he noted the way his partner’s plain navy blue skirt molded delectably curved thighs as she shifted to stand up.

And the way her lips softened with her smile.

And her eyes sparkled with earthy sensuality.

And the touch of her fingers on his skin when she took his hand sent a shock of heat through his nerves…

But apart from that, everything was progressing according to plan.

THE SCENTS of smoldering candles and expensive perfume were as subtly pervasive as the background hush that permeated the restaurant. The black-suited waiters didn’t bustle, they glided. Polished silverware winked from the white linen tablecloths and tiny lights twinkled in the crystal wineglass Lizzie held. Clutching the stem securely, she lifted it in response to Alex’s toast.

“To New York,” she repeated, taking a healthy sip of the wine Alex had ordered. It was as smooth and sweet as spring water with honey.

“What would you like to see tomorrow?” he asked. “The Statue of Liberty? Times Square? The museum?”

“The Statue of Liberty, I think.”

“Wonderful. It’s been years since I went there.”

She took another sip of wine as she listened to the sound of his voice. She was vaguely aware that he was detailing the tour he planned to take her on tomorrow, but as had happened before, she paid more attention to his voice than to his words. And why not? She might as well enjoy it while she could. His devastating handsomeness, the dazzling restaurant, the wine…come midnight, it would probably all disappear.

That would be a fitting end to this fairy tale, wouldn’t it?

She should have seen it coming. Lord, she must be pathetic to confuse, even for a minute, the attention Alex had been showering on her. He wasn’t being kind. This was purely business. What other possible reason could there have been for someone like him to whisk her to New York and give her flowers and treat her to dinner at a restaurant with no prices on the menu?

Considering what he was willing to pay her for her uncle’s shares, what would the cost of a few roses and a filet mignon matter?

She put down her glass and toyed with her fork, annoyed with herself for the disappointment that was totally misplaced. Her imagination had really gotten the better of her again, that’s all. Of course, he wouldn’t want someone he didn’t know for a partner. Of course, he’d think she would be anxious to sell her half of the company and scuttle back to her stable, safe, secure, happy life in Packenham Junction.

She should have seen it coming, she thought again, poking at a morsel of meat that had already gone cold. She was Auntie Liz. Good old Lizzie. The perpetual baby-sitter and bridesmaid, destined to exist forever on the periphery of other people’s lives.

In a way, there was a fitting irony to the situation. This entire trip, what she’d seen as her one chance at adventure, had the sole purpose of ensuring that she would return home and stay right where she’d always been.

“Is there something wrong with your meal?”

She put down her fork carefully so it wouldn’t clang and disturb the hush. “No, it’s delicious.”

“I could have the waiter bring you something else.”

“Please, don’t bother,” she said, reaching for her wine once more. She knew she shouldn’t be drinking it, considering the fact that she still hadn’t eaten anything today, but swishing dollar-a-mouthful wine through her teeth was another one of those things she might as well enjoy while she could.

Alex had made her a generous offer. Heck, it had more zeros than she’d seen in one place since she’d sneezed while she’d been typing out the day care center’s financial statement. With that much money, she could build a new barn for her stepfather, pay off Jolene and Tim’s mortgage, even pay Zack’s way through Harvard.

That is, if they would accept the money.

What a stubborn bunch her family was. It must hark back to their pioneer roots, when money in the bank was a foreign concept and people bartered for what they needed. Too bad Whitmore and Hamill didn’t make milking machines or something else useful.

Her lips curved at the thought of the immaculately groomed Alex Whitmore being involved with anything as mundane as a milking machine. He probably wouldn’t know which end of a cow to install it on. With his long fingers and firm grip, though, he likely wouldn’t have too much trouble coaxing out the milk by hand.

She glanced across the table, and a slow flush rose to her cheeks at the mental image of Alex with his long, strong fingers turning his attention to such an earthy task. If the way he moved was any indication, there was plenty of physical strength beneath his sophisticated appearance. Plenty of determination behind his good manners, too. He’d have a gentle, purposeful touch, the kind that would soothe and stimulate at the same time. And he’d be murmuring soft words in that deep, love-potion voice of his, and his brown eyes would grow smoky, and…

Lordy, he was one impressive specimen. Maybe it was the excitement of this whole situation, but never in her life had a man made such an immediate impact on her. She wasn’t so naive as to confuse physical attraction for something deeper, yet knowing what it was didn’t do anything to eliminate it.

It had never been that way with Bobby. Even when he’d been stripped to the waist on those hot summer days on her stepfather’s farm, and his shoulders had flexed with the effort of slinging those hay bales around, and his jeans had clung damply to his hips and thighs, she had never felt more than a comfortable kind of interest.

If she ever had the chance to see Alex Whitmore flex his muscles while he was half-naked and gleaming with sweat, she doubted if she would feel anything close to comfortable.

With a sickening clunk, her wineglass tipped over, spilling the remainder of its contents across the tablecloth in a sudden flood.

Alex whipped the linen napkin from his lap and stemmed the flow. “Sorry, I must have jarred the table,” he said.

She knew that he knew that her own fidgeting had been responsible for the mishap, yet he was willing to take the blame in order to spare her embarrassment. He was a regular…prince. A bubble of laughter hiccuped past her lips.

“Would you care for some dessert, Lizzie?” he asked, righting her glass and moving the wine bottle out of her reach.

“No, thank you, Alex.”

“Some coffee? We still have some time before the show starts.”

Oh, Lord, he must think she was on the downhill side of tipsy. She wasn’t even close to the edge, empty stomach or not. Compared to Bobby’s homemade cordial that could clear sinuses and blister paint, this stuff was cream soda. If her faculties were impaired at all, it was from the effects of Alex’s presence, not the wine—the man was too appealing to be legal.

“Is there anything else you’d like, Lizzie?”

Sure, you can strip to the waist and sling some hay bales. “Do you ever do any modeling?” she asked impulsively.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, posing for any of the advertisements the company does.”

He looked startled. “No, we use an outside agency. Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering. Considering the way you…” She stopped herself before she could blurt something out about the way he looked. “Um, I thought it might cut costs.”

“That particular cost-cutting method hasn’t been necessary so far.”

“Oh. That’s good. I mean, I’m glad Whitmore and Hamill is doing all right.”

“With each campaign we try to find individuals who would match our needs and the client’s expectations. My job consists of coordinating the people who work for me, making sure things run smoothly—”

“Us,” she interrupted.

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Who work for us,” she said, blushing at her own audacity. “I haven’t sold out yet.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek. He pressed the napkin more firmly against the puddle of wine. “Running a company doesn’t suit everyone, Lizzie. Your uncle found it much too restricting. That’s likely why he gradually withdrew from the day-to-day business over the past few years.”

She restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She’d lost count of the number of times Alex had stressed how her uncle had been eager to sell. As an angle of persuasion, it was starting to wear thin.

Besides, the more she heard Alex talk about Roland, the more she suspected there were other reasons behind the imminent end of their partnership. Although Alex hadn’t openly criticized her uncle, obviously they hadn’t gotten along.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t get along with him, did it? She got along with everyone. After all, as Packenham Junction’s perpetual bridesmaid and baby-sitter, she had plenty of experience keeping other people happy. Sure, these New York types were different from the people back home, but under their three-piece suits they were still people, right?

And she could readily imagine what was under Alex’s three-piece suit…

“What’s going to happen to the company name if I sell you my shares?” she asked quickly.

“The company name?”

“Whitmore and Hamill. I’m the last Hamill, so if I’m gone, would you change the name?”

He hesitated. “What would you like me to do?”

“I’d like the name to stay the way it is.”

“Well, it could prove confusing for our clients.”

“As a tribute to my uncle.”

“I see.”

“Uncle Roland never married and he didn’t have any children to remember him. Maybe he wanted me to make sure there would at least be the company name for him to leave behind for posterity.”

“All right. If that’s what you really want.”

No, what I really want is to see you naked and sweaty and flexing—

She bit her lip. She really had to stop dwelling on that fantasy. Or at least get herself a different one. “Why are you so anxious to buy me out, Alex?”

A flash of emotion briefly hardened the planes of his face. It was no more than a subtle tightening of his jaw, a twitch of his eyelids, and if she hadn’t been so conscious of his every nuance, she would have missed it. Yet it wasn’t the first time she’d seen a crack in the smooth image he projected. This had happened before, when he’d mentioned his divorce.

“Alex?”

He blinked, and the moment of emotion was gone. “I believe that the company would have a much more stable, secure future with one person controlling its direction.”

“Didn’t you get along with my uncle?”

“It’s no secret that we had our differences with respect to management decisions, but I’m thinking on more practical terms than that. During the past few years, the necessity of having to go through the motions of contacting Roland each time we needed to make a major decision caused delays and confusion. That will all be eliminated once you sell your shares to me.”

“If I agree.”

“Lizzie, you’d be so much more comfortable without the headache of this responsibility. You said you enjoy your work at the day care center, and you’re so close to your family. Think of all that you could do with the proceeds of the sale.”

“I have been thinking about it.”

“It’s really the best solution.”

She toyed with her wineglass, tipping it forward to roll the base in arcs along the tablecloth. Was it really the best solution?

Giving up her college scholarship in order to keep the farm running while her stepfather recovered from that tractor accident had been the best solution. So had opening up a day care center in the house on Myrtle Street when Bobby had destroyed her dreams. Twenty years from now, when the children she was caring for brought their own children to her, would she look back on this adventure and say, “If only?”

Frowning, she set her glass beside the puddle of wine and looked at Alex. “I admit I don’t know all that much about the advertising business, and I might not have a fancy degree in economics, but like most people from the country, I know about horse trading. Or to be more exact, cow trading.”

His eyebrows went up. Balling the napkin in his fist, he watched her in silence, his jaw tightening.

She hesitated. “What is it?”

“For a minute there you sounded just like your uncle.”

Whatever he meant by that, she took it as a compliment. Encouraged, she pushed her plate away and leaned her forearms on the edge of the table. “The way I see it, inheriting my uncle’s shares is like being given a cow that I’m not sure how to deal with.”

“I see. Please, go on.”

“Well, apart from the drastic and permanent option of fixing beef stew, there are always other choices when it comes to getting rid of livestock.”

“Such as?”

“Okay, first of all, it’s important to have a good idea of what the cow is actually worth so you can get a fair price. No offense, Alex, but I’m going to have my own lawyer look over the offer Jeremy drew up.”

“Naturally.”

“And there’s another point to consider,” she continued. “When a cow is healthy and producing milk, it might be better to keep it.”

He pushed his plate aside and leaned forward in a movement that mirrored her earlier one. “What exactly are you saying?”

What was she saying? She wasn’t too sure herself, but the more she thought about this, the better it seemed. “I could make quick money by selling the cow, but in the long run I might be better off keeping the cow and selling the milk.”

“So you’d expect me to…milk your cow for you?”

Long, strong fingers squeezing warm flesh…Lizzie moistened her lips. “Well, you said my uncle didn’t involve himself in the business for a few years. It might have been inconvenient for you at times, but you said you managed to stay profitable, so what difference would it make if I did the same thing? If I hung on to my half, I could be a silent partner.”

He looked at her mouth, his jaw tightening. After a breathless minute, he raised his gaze to hers.

Lizzie felt another one of those crazy tickles whisper through her stomach. There was yet another option here. She didn’t have to be merely a silent partner. What if they both…milked the cow? “Alex?”

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Yes, Lizzie?”

“What kind of qualifications did my uncle have?”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“To work in advertising. Did he go to the same college you did, or take a course or something?”

He remained silent for so long, she was about to repeat the question before he finally answered. “No.”

“Really?”

“Your uncle learned through experience. He relied on instinct and inspiration rather than formal education.”

The tickle turned into a tingle as the seed Jolene had planted began to take root. “Even though I enjoy my day care business, it can get along without me, so there’s nothing stopping me from staying in New York for a while.” She cleared her throat. “This is something you might not have thought of, Alex, but if I learn all I can about the company, I could help you out.”

“Help me out?”

“Sort of give the company another perspective.”

“Another perspective?” His voice was growing quieter with each phrase he repeated. Rather than sounding soft, though, he sounded as ominous as rumbling thunder.

She smiled. “You know, just like Uncle Roland.”

Alex didn’t return her smile. Silence stretched out between them as he continued to stare at her. Something gleamed in the mesmerizing brown depths of his eyes. Challenge. More than challenge. Awareness.

Lizzie shivered at the thrill that went through her body. She felt herself respond, and she wasn’t even sure what she was responding to. All those tickles and tingles that made her palms sweat…how much was due to her interest in her company…and how much was due to her interest in her partner?

Alex fought to keep his expression impassive. How could her mouth look so appealing when she was talking about exerting control of the company, his company?

This wasn’t progressing at all according to plan.

Then again, how could he expect any woman who used barnyard analogies to explain the concepts of a market economy to behave predictably?

Just like Uncle Roland.

He hadn’t believed that there could be two people like that in the world. And there weren’t. Despite her innocent charm, Elizabeth Hamill was far more dangerous than her uncle. Because she was threatening far more than his business. She was threatening his self-control.

He wasn’t a man who acted impulsively. He relied on logic to guide his actions. And there was nothing logical about the sudden urge he had to lean across the table and taste Lizzie’s lips.

First thing tomorrow, he’d tell Jeremy to increase the offer for her shares. And if that didn’t work—

The silence between them was broken abruptly by a purring ring from Alex’s jacket. He jerked, yanking his attention away from his new partner’s lips to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone.

“Mr. Whitmore? Are you there?”

At his housekeeper’s panic-stricken tone, he reflexively stiffened. Great. Now what?

It took less than a minute for Alex to find out what had put the panic in Mrs. Gray’s voice. All thoughts of his business and his partner were swept away by a wave of anxiety. Flipping the phone shut, he crammed it back inside his jacket and surged to his feet. “I’m sorry, Lizzie,” he said, already moving away. “I’ll have to meet you at the theater later. Something’s come up at home.”

She hesitated for less than a second before she wiped her palms on her skirt, grabbed her purse and rounded the table to follow him. “Hold on, partner. I’m coming with you.”