Читать книгу Marry Me, Kate - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 8

Chapter One

“I’d like to see Mr. Hardison,” Kate O’Connor announced calmly to the efficient-looking woman behind the large desk.

“Do you have an appointment?”

They’d certainly reached the sticky part quickly. “No, but I won’t take much of his time. I’m here to talk to him about the sponsor program.”

“Are you with the press?” the secretary asked with a frown, flipping the pages of her calendar.

Kate wanted to say yes, but her innate honesty wouldn’t let her. “No.”

“Then why do you want to speak to Mr. Hardison?”

“I’d prefer to give my explanation to him,” Kate returned, her spine stiffening with resentment at the woman’s attitude. Careful, she warned herself. She mustn’t let her temper do her in. She needed to subdue it just as she’d subdued her red hair this morning, pinning it into a sedate French roll.

“I can give you ten minutes next month.”

Next month wouldn’t do. She was too close to going under. “I need to see him now.”

“Sorry.” The word was accompanied by a superior smile that made control of her temper difficult. Without another word, Kate walked out of the deeply carpeted office. Once the door had closed behind her, she sank against the wall, her shaking knees and aching heart unable to continue.

It had been two months since her father’s death. Two difficult months. She’d discovered the diner her father had run for years had been losing money the past twelve months and, along with his medical bills, had almost exhausted her father’s savings. She’d come up with a plan to keep the diner, but she needed an infusion of capital. Her sister Maggie had offered her savings, even though she didn’t want to keep the diner, but Kate couldn’t take Maggie’s money.

A smile lit her face. Pop always said Maggie was a changeling because of her cautiousness. But she was financially solvent, the only one in the family. Their half sister Susan, only recently discovered by Kate and Maggie, was trying to raise two half siblings on her own. She certainly couldn’t invest in Kate’s idea.

Besides, Kate felt it was her job, as oldest in the family, to take care of her sisters. Not the other way around. And she was determined to do so. When she’d turned to the banks, however, they wouldn’t offer her much without better collateral.

She’d been desperate when an article in the newspaper had caught her attention. The CEO of Hardison Enterprises had begun a sponsoring program for small businesses.

Without waiting for second thoughts, she’d dressed in her only business suit, a bright blue, Parisiandesigned outfit that showed off her curves, and had come to see Mr. Hardison at once. It turned out she needn’t have called at all since she couldn’t see him with an appointment until next month.

The door behind her opened and she heard the snooty secretary say, “I’ll have it for you in fifteen minutes, Mr. Hardison.”

Then, as the door closed, Kate watched the back of the woman as she hurried down the hall away from her.

Leaving the CEO unguarded.

I know you always warned me about being impulsive, Pop, but I’ve got to go for it.

She quietly opened the door and slipped back into the outer office. Staring at the door to the forbidden sanctum across the room, she briefly wondered if she had the nerve to just walk in.

She grinned. Pop always said she had more nerve than sense. She’d never proved him wrong. It wouldn’t happen now. She pushed away from the wall, charged across the room and opened the inner office door.

Her first surprise when she caught sight of the man behind the desk was his age. If pressed, she’d guess him to be thirty, give or take a couple of years. Had she gotten the wrong office? This man appeared too young to be the head of Hardison Enterprises. And somehow she hadn’t pictured Mr. Hardison as being so...sexy.

Then he stood. His tall, lean frame only increased the intimidation she felt as she looked at him. On a lesser man, she would’ve called his expression a glare. On him, the look threatened bodily harm to anyone who bothered him.

“Mr. Hardison?”

“Who are you?” he snapped.

Bingo. She had the right office.

“My name is Kathryn O’Connor. I need to talk to you about the sponsor program.”

“Are you a reporter?” His voice was harsh.

What was it with these people? Were their lives so exciting that they were constantly pursued by the press?

“No. But I—”

“Then get out.” He sat back down and turned his attention to a pile of papers on his desk.

Kate stood there, wondering what her next move should be. She wasn’t about to give up but—

“I told you to leave.” He didn’t even look up.

“Not before I talk to you. I want to be considered for the sponsor program.”

He covered his handsome face with one hand before looking at her. “That’s what you want? Forget it.”

“Wait a minute. I’d be a good risk,” she protested, moving closer to his desk.

“Then go to a bank.” He turned his attention back to his paperwork.

“They won’t loan me enough money.”

“Lady, there are no free rides, even for someone who looks like you.” His gaze roved over her and she felt her cheeks heat up.

“I’m not asking for a free ride,” she returned, her voice reflecting her anger at his accusation.

“That’s what they all say.”

She moved over next to the desk, as irritated by the way he ignored her as she was by his words.

“At least listen to me,” she pleaded.

“Out,” he replied calmly, making notes on a letter.

Something snapped in Kate, to be treated this way after the struggle she’d had. She smashed her hand down on top of the letter. “You have to listen to me.”

Slowly William Hardison lifted his gaze from the letter to stare at hazel eyes, their luminous quality enhanced by her anger.

It wasn’t her beauty that caught his attention. He was constantly in the company of beautiful women.

No, it was her firm little chin, the determined glint in her eyes. He sighed. He’d already faced a determined woman this morning.

His mother.

She’d been on his case again, wanting him to promise to attend the reception this evening for society’s finest. And to escort her newest candidate for the role of Mrs. William Hardison. His mother never stopped trying to manipulate, cajole or force him into doing what she wanted. Just as she had his father.

James Hardison had married later than most men. Almost forty, he’d fallen head over heels for Miriam Esters. After finally agreeing to marry the wealthy businessman, she’d led him around by the nose for the rest of his life.

It wouldn’t have bothered Will so much if she’d made his dad happy. But she’d never let him believe she loved him, and she’d never been satisfied with the gifts he’d showered on her.

As much as he’d loved his father, Will had despised James’s weakness for his mother.

After a few unfortunate forays into the romance arena himself, Will had come to the conclusion that most women were like his mother. Best left alone.

Now, as the attractive young lady smashed her hand down on the letter he was reading, he realized that, like his mother, she wasn’t going to go away without a fight.

He noticed her nails: clean, neatly trimmed, instead of the long red claws his mother and all her friends sported. Probably meant she wouldn’t try to scratch his eyes out. At least he hoped not.

“Miss...whatever your name is, I believe I asked you to leave.” He spoke in measured tones, hoping to defuse the situation.

“I suppose people always do exactly what you ask?” she demanded.

“Well,” he said consideringly, a faint smile on his lips, “it is my office.”

“All I’m asking is for you to hear me out! I’m a perfect candidate for your sponsorship.” In her agitation, her hair was escaping from its pins, curly strands framing her face.

“How would you know the perfect candidate?”

“I read about Paul Jones in the paper.”

“And you want to be the next Paul Jones?” he asked, his voice taking on a sharp edge as he looked at her more closely. Did she realize Paul Jones had been a con artist? Was she one, also?

“Yes!”

“No way in hell, lady. Now, get out of my office or I’ll call security.” He wasn’t about to get himself in another mess like the one with Paul Jones. The man had lied and cheated and threatened blackmail. So much for Will’s philanthropical efforts.

“Why won’t you listen to me?” she cried out. “Is it because I’m a woman? Are you one of those men who believe women are incapable of counting above ten?”

He gave her his most cynical smile. “The women I know are quite capable of counting millions, especially if it’s someone else’s millions.”

Her chin thrust forward and her eyes narrowed. “I’m only asking to be heard. I’m not trying to steal from you.”

“Look, our sponsorship program has been suspended pending evaluation, so you’re wasting your time.”

“No!” she snapped, as if it were her decision. “No, no, no!”

He grinned. How his mother would hate this woman, so demanding, argumentative, determined. She was exactly the opposite of those sweet-smelling, soft creatures whose hearts were made of iron.

In fact, if he chose a wife like this lady, his mother would probably wash her hands of him in despair.

As his hand reached for the phone to call security, he halted in midair. A ridiculous thought—but intriguing. He shot a look at her ring finger. Bare.

“Are you married?” he asked.

For the first time since she’d entered his office, she drew back. Only inches, but a definite retreat.

“Why?”

“I want to know.”

She hesitated but finally answered, “No.”

“I will listen to your pitch tonight. Write down your address,” he ordered, shoving a piece of paper and a pen across his desk, “and I’ll pick you up at eight. It’s formal.”

“What’s formal?” she asked, her voice wary. She hadn’t picked up the pen yet, and he wondered just how strong her determination was. She might save him from his bizarre idea if she weakened.

“I have to attend a reception this evening. It’s the only time I can give you. Take it or leave it.”

She stared at him and he calmly waited for her decision. He’d always been a gambler. But he’d never taken such a personal risk before.

She reached out for the pen and paper and wrote down an address. He took it from her and nodded as he folded it and put it into his top pocket. “Eight o’clock.” Without another word he returned to his perusal of the letter. Even as she walked to his office door, he’d lost himself in the new project he was working on.

Will put his Jaguar in Park and pulled the piece of paper from his tux jacket pocket: 1205 Wornall Avenue. He slowly lifted his gaze to the monstrosity in front of him. The Lucky Charm Diner—an old trolley car, painted a pea green, though half the paint had peeled off, set at the edge of the small parking lot. The sign on top of it was covered with graffiti, making its name almost unreadable.

She couldn’t live here. The woman he’d seen this morning, Kathryn O’Connor, in that elegant blue suit, couldn’t live in a diner. If she did, his plan would not only upset his mother, but it might also give her a heart attack.

Maybe Miss O’Connor just wanted to meet him here. She hadn’t seemed the cautious type, though these days any woman should be. But couldn’t she find a classier place to meet?

He shut off the engine and got out of the car. As he stood there, adjusting his gold cuff links, a rattletrap old pickup pulled into one of the many empty spaces. Without even a glance in his direction, two grizzled men in coveralls got out and entered the diner.

With a shrug, Will followed them.

He surveyed the small eatery, noting the faded tabletops, their green color matching the outside paint, the patched and uneven floor, the close quarters. Clearly a down-and-out café. Its name had certainly not been lucky for the owner.

Clearing his throat, he waited for the only employee in sight, a frizzy-haired, middle-aged woman, to acknowledge him.

“Just come on in and park yourself, honey. We’re not formal here.” Even as she greeted him, she was pouring coffee for the two men who had preceded him.

“I’m looking for Miss Kathryn O’Connor,” he explained crisply, trying to hold back his distaste.

The woman paused and giggled, her gaze sweeping over him. “Oh! You must be the gentleman she said would be coming. Kate!” she called in gargantuan tones. “He’s here.”

Will barely stopped himself from shaking his head in amazement. He couldn’t have chosen a better place to shock his mother if he’d tried. The picture of her entering this establishment, in her fur and pearls, almost made him burst out laughing.

The redhead appeared from a door to the side of the counter. The men drinking their coffee put down their cups and clapped and whistled, jerking Will from his thoughts.

She was wearing a little black dress, cut low in front, displaying her charms, and slit to the thigh on one side. Sheer black nylons led his eyes to the high heels that only emphasized all those curves.

His mouth suddenly dry, he cleared his throat again and muttered, “Good evening, Miss O’Connor.”

Seemingly unaffected by his appearance, she replied, “Hello, Mr. Hardison. Are you ready?”

“Hey, Kate, where you going, all duded up?” a member of their audience called out.

Will frowned in his direction but waited for the woman to answer.

“This is a business meeting, Larry.”

“Whooeee! I think I’m going into business!” the man whooped as all the others laughed.

Will’s soon-to-be date laughed along with the men, but he didn’t. “Miss O’Connor, this is a formal affair,” he said.

“This is as dressy as I come, Mr. Hardison. I haven’t frequented formal occasions lately.”

His gaze briefly roamed the diner before he said, “I can see.” He hadn’t intended his remark as a criticism but he saw the flash of anger in her green eyes.

“If I’ll be too much of an embarrassment to you, we can have our meeting here and then you can proceed without me.”

“Not at all, Miss O’Connor. After you.” He was looking a gift horse in the mouth. Why worry about her embarrassment if she didn’t? He’d never deliberately place any woman in such an awkward situation, but he’d warned her. It wasn’t his fault she wasn’t properly dressed.

After they were settled in the Jaguar and on their way, he said, “The man in there called you Kate.”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Do you mind if I call you Kate?”

She’d been staring straight ahead until now. Turning, she let one brow slip up in a fascinating manner. “Are we going to be informal, then?”

There was a challenge in the husky tones that made his gut clench. He didn’t want to react to her, but her sexy apparel combined with her attractions would make any man sit up and take notice.

“I thought it might be a good idea—since we’re going to be in each other’s company all night.”

“All night?”

Damn, she was making him sound like an adolescent boy, stumbling through his first date. “Too literal, Miss O’Connor. I of course meant all evening. Though when the evening ends will be your choice. I’m a gentleman.”

“Don’t play word games with me, Mr. Hardison,” she returned, her voice smooth and enveloping. “Given my choice, we would’ve had our meeting in your office.”

He breathed deeply and inhaled her perfume. His gaze swept up her leg, following the slit that teased him with a glimpse of a firm thigh.

“Tell me about the project you think would be perfect for Hardison Industries’s entrepreneurial program.” If he didn’t change the subject and stop thinking about how the evening might end, he was going to embarrass himself.

“Can’t you guess?”

Such a strange answer brought his gaze back to her. “I beg your pardon?”

“The light’s turned green,” she murmured just as the car behind him sounded its horn.

Embarrassed, he stomped on the accelerator and the tires squealed as he roared through the intersection. Feeling like a teenager, he tried to bring himself under control.

“What did you mean?” he finally asked.

“You’ve already seen my project.”

He frowned. He really wasn’t interested in discussing business right now. His plans were more important. All he’d hoped to do was distract his mind from the urges that were overtaking him every time he looked at her. But now she’d caught his attention.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I’ve seen is you.”

“Not unless you walked inside the diner with your eyes closed.”

“Walked inside—” He broke off and stared at her again in horror. “You can’t mean—”

“Watch out!” she shrieked and grabbed the steering wheel to help him avoid a parked car.

He turned back to the road, keeping his gaze firmly fixed in front of him, as he fought through the shock. “You’re saying The—The Lucky Charm is your project? You’ve got to be kidding!”