Читать книгу The Billionaire Date - Leigh Michaels, Leigh Michaels - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

ALISON was already in Flanagan’s when Kit arrived. She was sitting at a table toward the back of the dim little pub, taking advantage of the light from a neon beer sign above her head to read the latest issue of a public relations journal.

The glass of diet cola in Alison’s hand was half empty, Kit saw. That meant she’d been there for a while, and since she wasn’t in a position to look out the front window there was no chance she’d seen Kit walking by with Jarrett.

One down, Kit thought.

Kit pulled out a chair across from her partner and waved at the waitress. “Where’s Susannah?”

“Don’t know.” Alison slid a bar napkin into the magazine to mark her page and set it aside. “She had a meeting with a client this afternoon, and she wasn’t back yet when I left.”

“If it was Pierce at the museum, she might not be back at all.” The waitress brought Kit a glass of Chardonnay, and she sipped it gratefully.

Alison looked puzzled. “You don’t think she’s serious about him, do you?”

“Why shouldn’t she be? I’ve only met him a couple of times, but he seems nice enough, and he’s certainly attractive.”

“He’s not her type. Look at me in disbelief if you want, Kit, but underneath all that froth, our Susannah’s a very steady sort. And somehow, I suspect, Pierce isn’t. She’s no more serious about him than...than you are about Jarrett Webster.”

Kit almost choked. “Oh, well, when you put it that way...” She drew a set of imaginary parallel lines on the tabletop with the base of her wineglass. “Ali, if you had to raise a lot of money for a good cause in a very little time, what would you do?”

“Is this a trick question, or wasn’t I listening at our staff meeting Monday?”

“It came up since then. It’s sort of a competition.” At least that much was the truth, Kit thought.

Alison looked thoughtful, but before she could comment Susannah came in with a swirl of her jersey skirt and sank into the chair across from Kit. “Guess what I just saw, parked straight in front of the brownstone. The most gorgeous black Porsche with Teddy on the license plates. Putting two and two together—”

“And coming up with seven, no doubt,” Alison said. “I thought incredible math was Kit’s specialty.”

“Maybe the car belongs to a bear collector,” Kit said.

Susannah leaned forward. “Then what was Jarrett Webster doing walking down the street toward it?”

“Taking a healthy stroll?” Kit mused. “Or slumming, perhaps?”

“You really don’t know?” Susannah sounded doubtful. “I thought perhaps he was looking for you, but Rita said he hadn’t come into the office.”

“See, Kit? I told you Susannah wasn’t serious about Pierce. In fact, it’s beginning to sound as if she’s got Jarrett Webster on the brain, instead.”

Susannah rolled her eyes. “Ali, you know very well I wouldn’t poach on Kit’s territory.”

“You’re welcome to him,” Kit offered.

“You two and your men,” Alison grumbled.

Susannah sat up straight. “Oh? As if there aren’t any in your life?”

“The men in my life are friends, not romantic interests. And now that we’re on the subject—”

“I’m lost,” Susannah said. “Which subject? Friends or romantic interests?”

“Friends. Two of mine are announcing their engagement tomorrow evening. The party came up rather suddenly, and—”

“And you want to know what to take as a gift? I’d suggest a bottle of champagne. That’s always appreciated.” Susannah flagged the waitress. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving.”

“Thanks, darling, but I can figure out a gift,” Alison said. “The trouble is, I’m also supposed to attend a convention banquet for one of our clients. It’s not critically important, I suppose—I mean, I’ll stop by the convention during the day, and it’s not as if we’re in charge of the arrangements for the banquet itself. But I think Tryad ought to be represented, so I was wondering if one of you—”

Susannah shook her head. “Sorry, but I’ve already made plans for the whole weekend.”

“I’ll go,” Kit said. “Tell me where and when.”

“You’re a love, Kitty. I owe you one.” Alison passed an envelope across the table. “Here are the tickets. It’s at the Englin Hotel, main ballroom, eight o’clock.”

“Tickets?” Susannah said. “Plural?”

“Too late, Kit’s got dibs. And you’ve already got plans, remember?”

“I didn’t mean I was volunteering to take over. I just couldn’t help thinking of who Kit might take. As long as there’s an extra ticket—”

“I can’t think of a soul I want to spend the evening with,” Kit said firmly. “At least, not one I could invite to a banquet featuring rubbery chicken and a roomful of strangers.”

“That’s a curse of modern life, you know,” Susannah announced. “Somebody ought to start up a singles club.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, dear,” Alison said, “but someone already has.”

“No, I mean a real singles club—not a dating service, but something to deal with the honest-to-goodness problems of unattached life. The woman who needs a companion for a dull evening at a business banquet, the man who doesn’t know how to do his own laundry—”

“I think you’ve just hit on the reason it won’t work.” Kit tucked the envelope into an inside pocket of her handbag.

“I didn’t say she should actually wash his shirts, just teach him how.”

“I told you Susannah’s a very conservative type, underneath it all,” Alison murmured. “Next thing we know, she’ll be starting up a Laundromat.”

Kit tried not to laugh at the indignant look on Susannah’s face. I do love these two, she thought. And I can’t let them, or Tryad, down.

Kit spent a restless night, and as dawn approached, dreams disturbed her. Aware enough to know she wasn’t awake but unable to pull herself from the nightmare, she lay rigid as one weird scene chased another through her mind. Finally, just as Jarrett Webster triumphantly put Tryad out of business and began to personally auction off everything from desks to copy machines to drawing boards to the calico cat who lived in the top-floor production room, Kit woke with a snap.

She lay flat on her back, her heart pounding painfully. A couple of tears had slipped from the corners of her eyes and lost themselves in the soft brown hair at her temples. But she felt more anger than fear.

She pushed herself upright and went to the kitchenette. While she waited for her coffee to brew, she relived the dream, analyzing each unrealistic element in the hope of banishing the emotional hangover it had left behind. She still felt half dazed.

It was only a nightmare, after all, she told herself, the aftereffects of contact with an arrogant, insufferable, egotistical male.

“I’d like to auction him!” she said, and the coffeemaker sighed as if in agreement.

She started to fill her cup and stopped, holding the pot in midair. And why not? she asked herself.

She stood frozen in place, not seeing the stream of coffee that ovenflowed her cup and pooled on the kitchen counter.

There were women who’d love to spend an evening with Jarrett Webster. Kit recognized the attraction he posed, even though she didn’t understand it. He wasn’t to her taste, but there was no question he was devastatingly good-looking, and that aura of power was no doubt a turn-on for a lot of women. Add his money and his fame....