Читать книгу Misbehaving with the Millionaire: The Millionaire's Misbehaving Mistress - Kimberly Lang - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

THIS was definitely the way to work.

The guest room of Will’s penthouse had its own private balcony, and Gwen had taken her laptop outside. Looking over the railing from almost twenty floors up had made her feel dizzy, but as long as she stayed away from the railing, she was fine. The small table and chairs had enough room for her computer and paperwork, and she could enjoy the summer breezes while she worked.

Mrs. Gray brought her a small pot of tea and some snacks about the time Evie went downstairs for her tennis lesson, and the apartment was quiet except for the jazz floating from the CD player inside in her bedroom. She loved her little 1920’s cottage and the charm of M Street, but this she could get used to.

She posted her column to TeenSpace and answered a few e-mails. For the most part, she’d been able to either postpone clients or move them to the blocks of time she knew Evie would be with her tutors or at a lesson, but she’d sent a few to a friend and former classmate who did some deb training on the side. The obnoxious sum of money Will was paying her for this job more than covered the loss of income from those few classes.

She was just shutting down her laptop when her cell phone rang.

“You never called yesterday and I’m dying to hear everything.” Her sister sounded as eager as Evie.

“I know. I was busy getting settled in, and Evie and I worked most of the day.” The breeze on the balcony made it hard to hear Sarah, so she went inside and flopped on the sinfully wonderful bed.

“And…”

“The guest room here is nicer than that five-star hotel we stayed at in D.C. last year. The bathroom is the size of my bedroom at home and done completely in marble. The bedroom is huge, and I have my own balcony. It’s incredible.”

“Even the hired help lives the good life, huh?”

“That’s for sure.” Gwen rolled on to her back, felt the down duvet mold itself around her and stared at the hand-painted ceiling. “I swear, I feel like a princess in this room.”

“What about the princess herself?”

“Evie’s not bad at all. A little unsure of herself and the finer points of etiquette, but she’s far from the mess I expected. I’m going to bring her in Friday, if that’s still okay. I think you’ll like her.”

“Friday’s fine. E-mail me her picture and sizes. Now, quit stalling and tell me about the Most Eligible Will Harrison.”

Gwen nibbled on a fingernail as she hedged. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Gwennie!” Sisterly exasperation took over. “Details. Now. I’m holding your cat hostage, you know.”

“Okay, okay. He’s even more handsome than his pictures, and he can be quite charming when he wants to. Trust me, charm is not something the Harrison family lacks.” So it wasn’t the full truth, but Sarah wasn’t ready to hear that Gwen was living with a man who oozed sex appeal. And she wasn’t about to go into the details of what that was doing to her equilibrium. “He’s really good to Evie, too, even though they’re still figuring each other out.”

“I hear a ‘but.’”

“But he’s terse sometimes and always seems to be thinking about something else when I’m talking to him. And if that damn BlackBerry rings one more time, I’ll—”

Sarah’s sigh interrupted her rant. “Not everyone feels the way you do about phones, Gwen. He’s probably a very busy man. BlackBerrys just come with the territory.”

It was her turn to be exasperated. “You know good and well that flesh and blood people—”

“‘Always take priority over any message in any other medium.’ Yes, Gwennie, I know. That speech is getting old, honey.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.” She knew she sounded huffy and defensive, but she also knew Sarah had been brought up better than that.

“Maybe you should work on some new etiquette rules for this century.”

“The ones we have would work just fine if folks would only follow them.” Sarah started to interrupt again, but Gwen cut her off. “He brought it to dinner.”

“Oh.” Even Sarah’s lax rules on technology use included a moratorium on their presence at the dinner table. Mother had taught them too well. “So Will Harrison needs some work in the cell phone etiquette department. Big deal. He’s handsome and charming and richer than God. You can overlook a couple of flaws.”

“Sarah, I have no business even noticing his flaws. Evie Harrison is my business, not Will.” That needs to become my new mantra.

“So? You’re there. Living in his house. You’re both adults, and you never know…”

Sarah was going to drive her insane. “Forty-eight hours ago you were telling me what a bad idea moving in here was. You’ve switched camps pretty suddenly.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’d thought this whole thing through. Now that you’re there…” She trailed off suggestively. “Anyway, you said you felt like this was the right thing to do. That it was your chance. Maybe it is in more ways than one. Couldn’t hurt to keep your options open.”

“You’re jumping way ahead. Granted, Will is absolutely yummy—”

Sarah perked up. “Yummy? Really?”

Oh, for a different choice of words. Too late now. “This is business—and the future of my business. As you said, I’ve laid a lot of groundwork the last few years. I’m not going to screw everything up again with some silly crush on my boss.”

“So he is crushworthy.”

Gwen wanted to bury her head in the pillows and scream. “This whole conversation is ridiculous. Will Harrison barely knows I’m alive. I’m just someone he hired to tutor his sister. I doubt Evie’s French teacher is having this conversation with her siblings.”

“He didn’t ask the French teacher to move in, now did he?”

Gwen heard the front door slam and the pounding of feet in the hallway. Perfect timing. She sent up a quick word of thanks. “Evie’s back from her tennis lesson. I need to go.”

“But you haven’t told me anything—”

“I’ve got to go. Miss Behavior duty. We’re going to work on introductions and handshakes this afternoon.”

“Oooh, fun.”

“Sarcasm isn’t becoming of a lady, you know. Neither is that,” she added as Sarah made a raspberry noise in her ear. She heard Evie call her name as footsteps approached her room. “I’ll see you Friday, okay?”

“This conversation isn’t over, you know.”

“Yes, it is.”

“At least think about what I said. Don’t let past mistakes color your perception and cause you to miss out on an opportunity.”

“Past mistakes are what’s keeping my perception crystal clear.” Sarah started to grumble again. To keep the peace she added, “But I’ll think about what you said. Bye.” She flipped her phone closed before Sarah had a chance to argue some more.

Sarah went through life like it was some kind of movie—which, for her, it often was. Gwen just needed to remind herself of that so that her sister wouldn’t drive her into therapy or cause her to lose her job. If she limited her calls to Sarah over the next couple of weeks, she’d be able to concentrate much better on the job at hand.

Head in the game. Eyes on the prize. Hands to herself.

That should be easy enough to remember.

“Konichiwa.” His tongue felt too thick to get the word out sounding anything like the voice on the computer lesson. Picking up Japanese in three weeks would be a challenge.

He looked over the notes Nancy had prepared about doing business with the Japanese. The business card thing was no problem; bowing wasn’t that difficult to figure out. But he’d read how making an effort to learn a few words of Japanese—however badly pronounced—would go a long way in creating good feelings.

And good feelings were much needed. Expanding HarCorp’s distribution of its luxury items into Asian markets had been his personal goal for the company for the last three years.

HarCorp’s background was tied in Texas cattle, but the Harrison family didn’t have ranch roots. His great-grandfather opened one of the first tanneries in the area, providing leather to the saddle and boot makers. When the demand for saddles waned, Harrison Tannery changed its name and began supplying leather to the automakers and eventually began supplying leather overseas as well.

The Luxury Goods arm of HarCorp had been a special project of Will’s since he joined the family business. He’d championed it when the entire board had tried to nix the idea. It wasn’t until his father retired that he was able to give it the attention it deserved, but Luxury Goods now showed a larger profit than any other department, and the naysayers were off his back. Now that Harrison Leathers had made a name for itself providing unique, high-quality items, it was time to expand their reach to the newly affluent Asian countries and their growing upper classes. Kiesuke Hiramine was his way into that market. The meeting scheduled for next month would be the make-or-break moment of three years’ hard work.

“Konichiwa,” he tried again. “Dochirahe.”

The intercom on his desk beeped. “Mr. Harrison, are you ready for me now?”

He glanced at his watch. Three-thirty already, and past time for his daily meeting with his assistant. “Come on in, Nancy.”

One second later, Nancy knocked sharply on his door and entered. With her usual efficiency—and he paid her handsomely for it—she went through his calendar and schedule for the immediate future as he signed the stack of papers she laid on his desk.

“Finally Dallas Lifestyles would like to know if you can schedule an interview and photo shoot.”

A snort escaped at the mention of the magazine. Four-color gossip on glossy paper was still trash, no matter how the magazine tried to promote itself as something other than a gossip rag. He looked up from the contract he was initialing to see the corner of Nancy’s mouth twitching in amusement. “Why on earth would I do that?”

Nancy feigned a look of innocence. “It’s part of the whole ‘Dallas’s Most Eligible’ package. Each Bachelor gets a spread. You’re the only one left—are you sure you don’t want to schedule?”

“Has hell frozen over yet?” That’s all he needed: more encouragement for the fortune-hunting women out there on the dating circuit. Like he didn’t have enough on his plate already between running HarCorp and raising Evie. Even if he had the inclination, he certainly didn’t have the time.

“That’s what I thought. But I told them I’d ask anyway. Maybe they’ll quit calling now,” she grumbled.

“We can hope, right?”

Nancy shrugged as she collected the now-signed papers from his desk. Knowing they were finished, Will turned back to his computer and clicked the file on Japanese business etiquette open again. He needed to figure out this bowing thing.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

He laughed but didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Yeah. Find me a Japanese expert to run my meeting.”

His intercom on his desk beeped, meaning the lobby receptionist wanted to put a call directly through—which meant the call was either from Evie or Marcus. Nancy left as he answered.

“Hi, Will. I’m sorry to bother you.”

Hearing Gwen’s voice caught him off-guard. Jewel, the executive receptionist, must have been told something about their situation in order for Gwen to get connected to him directly. He hadn’t thought about doing it, but Nancy obviously had.

“It’s no bother.” Surprisingly he meant that. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine. Marcus Heatherton called Evie today to say he’ll be here for dinner tonight.”

He’d forgotten about that. “I guess I should have warned you. Marcus is checking up on us.”

“On me, you mean.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Gwen was sharp.

“How’d you know?”

“After everything Evie’s told me, I’m surprised he’s waited this long.” She sounded amused at the situation, which surprised him. Marcus was well-known, and it wasn’t for his laid-back outlook on life. Surely Gwen had at least heard of him in dealing with her debutantes.

His computer beeped, signaling an incoming e-mail. He glanced at the message and shot back a quick response.

“Mrs. Gray, however, is all atwitter. Something about Mr. Heatherton being impossible to please.”

“Oh, well, there was that one night when the meat was a little tough…”

“So, it’s going to be an interesting evening then.” Gwen chuckled conspiratorially, and the sound was infectious. He liked this side of her. Gwen still seemed tense whenever he was around, and this was one of the few times he’d felt her loosening up.

“Oh, definitely.”

“Actually I wanted to tell you that Mr. Heatherton plans to arrive around six-thirty. I’m hoping you’ll be able to make it home a bit earlier tonight. I think he’s eager to see you.”

That comment brought a full-out laugh. “You have heard of Marcus. Don’t worry. I’ll be home in plenty of time to run interference for you.”

“That’s not what I was implying—”

“Yes it was.” This was fun. How long had it been since he’d had an enjoyable and somewhat normal conversation with a woman? Years, possibly. He eased back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. “Marcus will be nothing if not impressed by you—what you’ve done with Evie, that is.”

“I hope. Evie’s a bit nervous. You did tell her she wasn’t going to be sent to boarding school, right?”

“Yep.” His e-mail beeped again, and he glanced at the subject line. As much as he was enjoying the conversation, it was time to get back to it. “Anything else I can do for you—short of uninviting Marcus to dinner?”

“Actually there is one more thing. You mentioned before that you wanted me to help Evie with her wardrobe. I’ll be taking her to Neiman Marcus tomorrow.”

Money. Of course. Everything in his life always came back to money. His money. Not that he minded spending it on Evie, but Gwen bringing it up had kind of dampened the mood. For a moment there, he’d forgotten he’d bought her time and attention. Her attention to Evie, he meant. “I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”

“Guess not. We’ll see you tonight.” He heard Evie’s voice in the background then Gwen’s muffled voice as she placed a hand over the phone to answer her. “Oh, Will?”

His intercom was beeping. He didn’t have time for this. “Yes?”

“Evie says not to be late. Mr. Heatherton frowns on tardiness, and it would be rude.” That restrained laughter in her voice snared him again.

“Tell Evie I said she has to wear a dress.” He waited as Gwen relayed the message and heard Evie’s wail in response. The intercom’s beeping got more insistent. “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

He switched to the intercom line to find Nancy waiting impatiently. “Mr. Hiramine’s assistant is on line three.”

“Great. Tamishi, right?”

“No, Takeshi.”

“Thanks. And tell Davis to just e-mail the sales figures. I have dinner arrangements with Marcus tonight, and I’ll look them over at home. I’ll be leaving early today.”

Nancy’s surprise registered, but he didn’t have time to explain further.

“Konichiwa, Takeshi.”