Читать книгу Hired Husband - Rebecca Brandewyne - Страница 12

Minneapolis, Minnesota

A s Caroline Fortune wheeled her sedate dark blue Volvo into the underground parking lot of the towering, glass-and-steel structure that housed the global headquarters of Fortune Cosmetics, she glanced anxiously at her gold Piaget wristwatch. An accident on the snowy freeway had caused rush-hour traffic to be a nightmare this morning. As a result, she could be late for her 9:00 a.m. meeting—and if there were one thing her grandmother, Kate Winfield Fortune, simply couldn’t abide, it was slack, unprofessional behavior on the job.

And lateness was the sign of a sloppy, disorganized schedule.

Involuntarily, Caroline shuddered at the thought of her grandmother’s infamous wrath being unleashed upon her. The stern rebuke would be precise, apropos and scathing, she knew, delivered with coolly raised, condemnatory eyebrows and in icy tones of haughty grandeur that had in the past reduced many an executive—even male ones—at Fortune Cosmetics not only to obsequious apologies, but even to tears. Caroline had seen it happen on more than one occasion, although, much to her gratitude and relief, she herself was seldom a target of her grandmother’s anger.

And she wouldn’t be this morning, either, not if she could help it. That would be a disastrous way to start out the new year.

Grabbing her Louis Vuitton tote bag and her black leather portfolio from the front passenger seat, Caroline slipped gracefully from the Volvo and slammed the door. The heels of her Maud Frizon pumps clicked briskly on the concrete floor as she hurried toward the bank of elevators that would take her up into the skyscraper owned by her family. She pressed the Up button on the wall, muttering under her breath as several minutes seemed to tick by before, at last, a chime sounded and a pair of elevator doors slid open to admit her.

Presently, she was rushing down the long, plushly carpeted corridors of one of the hushed upper floors, toward the conference room where the meeting was scheduled.

By now, Caroline had her portfolio open and was leafing through it as she hastened along, reviewing the notes she had prepared for her presentation. So she didn’t see Dr. Nicolai Valkov until she literally ran right into him. Like her, he had his head bent over his own portfolio, not watching where he was going, either; as the two of them collided, both their portfolios and the papers inside went flying.

At the unexpected impact, Caroline lost her balance, stumbled, and would have fallen had not Nick’s strong, sure hands abruptly shot out, grabbing hold of her and pulling her close to steady her. She gasped, startled and stricken, as she came up hard against his broad chest, lean hips and corded thighs, her face just inches from his own—as though they were lovers about to kiss.

Caroline had never been so close to Nick Valkov before, and in that instant, she was acutely aware of him—not just as a fellow employee of Fortune Cosmetics, but also as a man. Of how tall and ruggedly handsome he was, dressed in an elegant, pin-striped black suit cut in the European fashion, a crisp white shirt, a foulard tie and a pair of Cole Haan loafers. Of how dark his thick, glossy hair and his deep-set eyes framed by raven-wing brows were—so dark that they were almost black, despite the bright fluorescent lights that blazed overhead. Of the whiteness of his straight teeth against his bronzed skin as a brazen, mocking grin slowly curved his wide, sensual mouth.

“Actually, I was hoping for a sweet roll this morning—but I daresay you would prove even tastier, Ms. Fortune,” Nick drawled impertinently, his low, silky voice tinged with a faint accent born of the fact that Russian, not English, was his native language.

At his words, Caroline flushed painfully, embarrassed and annoyed. If there was one person she always attempted to avoid at Fortune Cosmetics, it was Nick Valkov.

Following the breakup of the Soviet Union, he had emigrated to the United States, where her grandmother had hired him to direct the company’s research and development department. Since that time, Nick had constantly demonstrated marked, traditional Old World tendencies that had led Caroline to believe he not only had no use for equal rights, but also would actually have been more than happy to turn back the clock several centuries where females were concerned. She thought his remark was typical of his attitude toward women: insolent, arrogant and domineering. Really, the man was simply insufferable!

Caroline couldn’t imagine what had prompted her grandmother to hire him—and at a highly generous salary—except that Nick Valkov was considered one of the foremost chemists anywhere on the planet. Deep inside, Caroline knew that no matter how he behaved, Fortune Cosmetics was really extremely lucky to have him. Still, that didn’t give him the right to manhandle and insult her!

“I assure you that you would find me more bitter than a cup of the strongest black coffee, Dr. Valkov,” she insisted now, attempting without success to free her trembling body from his steely grip, which continued to hold her so near that she could feel his heart beating steadily in his chest—and knew he must be equally able to feel the erratic hammering of her own.

“Oh, I’m willing to wager there’s more sugar and cream to you than you let on, Ms. Fortune.” To her utter mortification and outrage, she felt one of Nick’s hands slide insidiously up her back and nape, to her luxuriant mass of sable hair, done up in a stylish French twist. “You know so much about fashion,” he murmured, eyeing her assessingly and pointedly ignoring her indignation and efforts to escape from him. “So why do you always wear your hair like this…so tightly wrapped and severe? I’ve never seen it down. That’s the way it needs to be worn, you know…soft, loose, tangled around your face. As it is, your hair fairly cries out for a man to take the pins from it, so he can see how long it is. Does it fall past your shoulders?” He quirked one eyebrow inquisitively, a mocking half smile still twisting his lips, letting her know he was enjoying her obvious discomfiture. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you. What a pity. Because my guess is that it does—and I’d like to know if I’m right. And these glasses.” He indicated the large, square tortoiseshell frames perched on her slender, classic nose. “I think you use them to hide behind more than you do to see. I’ll bet you don’t actually even need them at all.”

Caroline felt the blush that had yet to leave her cheeks deepen betrayingly, its heat seeming to spread throughout her entire body. Damn the man! Why must he be so infuriatingly audacious and perceptive? Because what Nick suspected was true: her hair did fall below her shoulders, and the prescription in her lenses was so light as to be negligible. She customarily wore both the French twist and the glasses solely because she felt they gave her a more businesslike appearance, a no-nonsense image she had determinedly cultivated to conceal her vulnerable, romantic inner self from the rest of the world—from men in particular.

“Dr. Valkov,” Caroline said frostily, forcing herself to marshal her wits and composure, “not only am I not even remotely interested in what you think, but neither of us has time to stand here exchanging idle chitchat—that is, unless you care to be the recipient of one of my grandmother’s notorious dressing-downs. I, however, do not. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you would release me, so that I, at least, can make our nine o’clock meeting on time. There are currently less than five minutes to spare.”

“The meeting.” Nick started slightly at the reminder. “Would you believe that bumping into you drove it completely from my mind, Ms. Fortune?” He let her go then, kneeling to help her retrieve and sort out all the papers that had scattered from the two portfolios.

Once she and he finally had everything straightened out, they entered the conference room together, where Caroline was dismayed to observe that she and Nick were the very last ones to arrive. Her grandmother sat at the head of the huge, Honduras-mahogany conference table. She was flanked by Caroline’s father, Jacob Fortune, who was Kate’s eldest son and the president of Fortune Cosmetics, and Sterling Foster, who was Kate’s attorney and closest friend. Sprawled in a chair to one side and looking as though he were nursing a pounding hangover was Caroline’s playboy cousin Kyle, his suit jacket already discarded and his collar and tie loosened, despite the early hour.

Although seventy, Kate Winfield Fortune was anything but old and decrepit. She had a striking, barely wrinkled face born of both excellent bone structure and the best cosmetics and skin care money could buy. As usual, her rich, wine red hair, lightly streaked with gray, was upswept in a classic Gibson girl that accentuated the high cheekbones and flawless, creamy skin Caroline herself had inherited.

Despite that Kate was slim and small in stature, her feisty, dynamic personality ensured that she dominated her surroundings. Her sparkling, shrewd blue eyes were evidence to the fact that her vivacity and energy were those of a woman half her age and that her mind was still as sharp as the proverbial tack. Nobody put anything past Kate Winfield Fortune.

She was the CEO of the entire Fortune holdings, which included not only Fortune Cosmetics, an enterprise she herself had founded years ago, but also a worldwide construction and development corporation, and interests in oil and ranching. More than anyone else in the extended Fortune family, Caroline adored her grandmother. She wanted to be just like her.

But in her heart, Caroline knew that, unfortunately, she lacked her grandmother’s natural warmth, wittiness and high spirits, her zest for life and her quest for adventure. If Caroline had ever possessed those attributes, they had been crushed out of her some years back by her disastrous engagement.

She had been so young and so in love with Paul Andersen, a colleague at Fortune Cosmetics. It had nearly destroyed her when, by a cruel trick of fate, she had inadvertently learned it wasn’t her Paul had truly loved, but her share of the Fortune riches.

Since that time, deeply wounded and embittered, Caroline had resolutely steered clear of men, concentrating instead on her career, emulating her grandmother’s business acumen, ambition and flair for fashion. Through intelligence, savvy, hard work, dedication and sheer determination, Caroline had risen through the ranks to become Fortune Cosmetics’ vice president of marketing.

And she knew she was good at her job, that she had earned her position. Because her grandmother didn’t believe in handing anybody—not even family—anything on a silver platter.

“Good morning, everyone.” Caroline quickly drew off her expensive leather gloves and elegant camel wool coat, laying them aside, trying to still the wild thudding of her heart, the agitated quivering of her body, as Nick’s dark glance raked her again appraisingly. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long. The snow caused an accident on the freeway this morning, tying up traffic forever, or I would have been here sooner.”

“Not to mention the fact that Ms. Fortune and I had a small collision of our own out in the hall.” Nick’s mouth turned down wryly at the corners as he surveyed Caroline, and he shook his head at her imperceptibly, so she knew he disapproved not only of her hair and glasses, but also of her classically tailored Chanel suit and cream-colored silk blouse.

She had the horrible, unsettling impression that he was mentally stripping her naked, that he knew exactly what she looked like naked; to conceal the flush she felt creeping up once more to stain her cheeks crimson, she swiftly bent over her portfolio, which she had spread open on the conference table. She was abruptly beset by such an awful urge to box Nick’s ears, to slap the smirk clean off his handsome face, that she could scarcely contain herself.

What on earth was the matter with her this morning? She was usually cool, composed and competent. It was most unlike her to be so flustered and irritated—especially by a man. The terrible traffic snarl must have rattled her more than she had suspected. She had better get hold of herself in a hurry, she told herself, or her marketing presentation was definitely going to suffer—particularly as Kyle now appeared to have fallen asleep in his chair.

At the sight of him, Caroline silently cursed the kindly impulse that had caused her some months ago to promote him to the position of her assistant. Despite that he was one of her favorite cousins, he was just like every other man she had ever known—utterly worthless and no good, she now thought hotly.

“Well, despite all the mishaps, we’re still on schedule. So, since we’re all assembled, shall we get started?” Kate asked briskly. “Kyle. Kyle! Do you care to wake up and join us this morning?” Frowning, she stared at her errant grandson censoriously as he was nudged to awareness by a surreptitious punch in the ribs, delivered by Sterling Foster. “Somehow, Kyle, I just don’t think you’re cut out for Fortune Cosmetics,” Kate observed dryly, once he had started awake. “It’s my belief that you need to be someplace where you’re forced to get up at the crack of dawn, breathe great lungfuls of fresh air and work so hard all day that you’re too tired for any nightlife at all—much less the wild one that seems to be affecting you for the worse these days.”

“Good heavens, Grandmother. I can’t think of anything less appealing than sunrises and crisp air.” Yawning and rising, Kyle strolled leisurely over to the credenza along one wall, where he poured himself a cup of black coffee from the automatic coffeemaker that sat next to a Baccarat crystal pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and a sterling-silver tray sporting an assortment of fruits and breads. “Besides, I worked late last night.”

At her grandson’s words, Kate snorted her disbelief but, mercifully, chose not to pursue the subject. Instead, she directed peremptorily, “Nick, you begin, why don’t you. How is my secret youth formula progressing?”

“Very well, actually.” Confidently, Nick stood, moving around the conference table to the computerized video-presentation equipment, into whose drive he inserted a diskette. After a few moments, the huge monitor on the stand was filled with a complex diagram and chemical equations Caroline could not begin to understand. Using a laser pointer, Nick explained. “You’re all aware from previous meetings of the steps we’ve taken to date. This morning, I’m happy to report that after years of research and development, the secret youth formula is finally nearing completion. This is the formula’s matrix. When combined with various properties present in the epidermis, this is what happens, according to both theory and our tests.”

A click of the mouse put the big screen into motion. What followed was a thirty-minute video, detailing in layman’s terms the effect of the secret youth formula upon the skin. The intricate demo ended with the reassembling of the original matrix.

“Now,” Nick continued, “you will notice that the matrix is not wholly formed. The break you see here in this molecular chain—” he shone the laser pointer on the monitor “—is what I call Ingredient X, meaning that we’re certain we need one last element to finish the formula. We just don’t know yet what that element is, although we’ve managed within the past several months to narrow the range of possibilities considerably. My guess is that it won’t be long at all now until we do isolate and identify Ingredient X, at which point the formula will be ready for market. Are there any questions?”

“So what you’re saying,” said Jacob Fortune, known to everyone as Jake, “is that the secret youth formula utilizes properties similar to those found in Retin-A and salicylic acid, as well as alpha hydroxies like glycolic acid? But that Fortune Cosmetics’ formula will go beyond those products—that it will, in fact, revolutionize the entire cosmetic market in that it will be similar, basically, to a chemical peel for which consumers previously would have needed to visit a plastic surgeon or dermatologist? And the difference is that they will now be able to perform the task themselves—both safely and relatively inexpensively—in the privacy of their own homes? Further, that the effects of Fortune Cosmetics’ formula will be cumulative, that is, the longer the formula is used, the greater the benefits will prove?”

“Exactly.” Nick nodded, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. “With proper, regular use, Fortune Cosmetics’ formula will, within just a matter of months, restore even the most deteriorated skin to the texture, elasticity, et cetera, that it exhibited in its late teenage to early twenties years—minus the acne, of course.” The observation brought a round of appreciative chuckles. “In addition, once that youthful stage has been reached by the consumer, consistent use of the product a few times a week will maintain the skin at that level—which means, of course, that the majority of consumers will be steady customers.

“Because the formula is, in essence, a chemical peel, it will require FDA approval. However, all our tests have led us to believe that won’t be a problem. As you know, we’ve worked closely with the FDA all along, both to ensure conformity with all their rules and regulations, and to keep them apprised of our test results. Sterling can fill you in on all those legalities. In addition, we’ll undoubtedly have several patents granted—which will tend to slow down our competition for quite a while. I expect our market share to increase substantially as a result.” Nick grinned wickedly, bringing a scowl to Caroline’s face as she watched him.

It just wasn’t right for any man to be so damned attractive, she thought—especially when that handsomeness was coupled with an imperious attitude and undeniable intelligence. The man was brilliant; she had to give him credit for that.

Opening his portfolio, Nick withdrew several identical bound reports, which he passed around the conference table, announcing, “I have, of course, prepared full written summaries of my presentation for you all.”

“Excellent.” Kate beamed her approval. “You’ve done an outstanding job, Nick! I have every confidence that you will shortly discover the missing Ingredient X. Further, I know I speak for all of us here at Fortune Cosmetics when I say how much I deeply appreciate your dedication to the job and all the contributions you’ve made to the company since coming aboard. Keep up the good work! And keep me informed of your progress, won’t you? Now, speaking of our market share…Caroline, is your advertising campaign ready for the launch of our secret youth formula?”

“Yes, Grandmother, it is.” Smoothing her skirt, Caroline rose to make her way to the computerized video-presentation equipment while Nick pressed the button on the drive to release his diskette, which he slipped into his portfolio.

Then he strolled over to the credenza. “Ah…sweet rolls!” he exclaimed, glancing rakishly beneath hooded lids at Caroline.

Much to her irritation and discomposure, she felt herself blush as furiously again as she had earlier outside in the corridor, and her fingers were suddenly so clumsy that she dropped upon the floor the diskette she was attempting to insert. When she bent to retrieve the diskette, she accidentally knocked her portfolio from the conference table, too, sending all her papers flying once more.

Swearing under her breath, she shot Nick the proverbial look that could have killed, causing him to grin hugely.

“Here, let me help you, Ms. Fortune.” He knelt beside her to gather up the fallen papers. Between his teeth, he now gripped one of the sweet rolls from the sterling-silver tray on the credenza.

It was all Caroline could do to prevent herself from shoving the sweet roll down his throat. She was embarrassedly aware of her grandmother, father, cousin and Sterling watching her and Nick curiously, clearly wondering what, if anything, might be between the two of them.

While Fortune Cosmetics did not have a company policy against employee fraternization, Caroline could not help but remember what had happened with Paul Andersen and how disappointed her grandmother and father both had been in her judgment. Her mistake with Paul had caused them to look over her shoulder for months afterward, double-checking the decisions she had made on the job.

Were they even now sitting there knowing—as they had known about Paul and she had not—that Nick Valkov was a fortune hunter, too, or otherwise unsuitable in some fashion? Were they even now questioning her judgment again?

That thought incensed Caroline, reminding her why she had always gone out of her way to avoid Nick—and every other man at Fortune Cosmetics.

Beneath the edge of the conference table, she glowered darkly at Nick. In response, he broke off a piece of the sweet roll, offering it to her, while he ate his own portion with relish, deliberately savoring it. Despite herself, she felt her eyes drawn to his sulky, sensuous mouth, his tongue that licked the sticky icing from his long, elegant fingers. Unbidden, a sudden image of him doing wild, sexy things to her with those lips and tongue rose in her mind, mortifying her and setting the pulse at the hollow of her throat to fluttering wildly.

Shaking her head curtly at the proffered sweet roll, she bent over her scattered papers, feeling the heat of her blush deepen and spread, stricken by the terrible, unnerving suspicion that Nick had somehow seen the mental picture she had had of the two of them together.

From beneath her long, thick sooty lashes, she glanced at him surreptitiously. He was no longer grinning, which should have relieved her—and would have—except that now his dark eyes glittered with speculation as he stared at her, as though he had never really looked at her before and suddenly saw a great deal to interest him.

“Your papers, Ms. Fortune,” Nick said softly as he handed them to her. One powerful, slender hand reached out, took hold of her arm. Caroline was so startled and unsettled by their physical contact that she only barely restrained herself from jerking away from him as he assisted her to her feet.

“Thank you, Dr. Valkov,” she replied as cooly as she could manage, silently cursing the fact that her hand trembled as she jammed her diskette into the drive. She cleared her throat nervously. Then, determinedly ignoring Nick, she began her presentation. “As you’re all aware, we’ve had several names for the secret youth formula under consideration. Based on the marketing campaign that I and my department have developed, however, this is the name we suggest that you approve.”

A click of the mouse brought her own presentation to the monitor, and superimposed over the Fortune Cosmetics’ logo, the words Fabulous Face flashed on the screen.

After a moment, the video itself unfolded, explaining the concept for the marketing campaign, then focusing on the actual print and television advertising. The proposed TV commercial started with a closeup of Caroline’s sister Allison—who was Fortune Cosmetics’ top supermodel—and a low, seductively confiding voice-over that asked, “What’s her secret?”

Then the spiel describing the new product ensued as several different women of various nationalities and ages, all the models beautiful and youthful-looking, were shown in a number of settings, both at work and play. More than one of the women had a tall, handsome man at her side. Tucked discreetly into each scene was a shot of the product itself, packaged in an appealing, gilded, heavy glass container designed in Fortune Cosmetics’ signature style.

Sixty seconds later, the proposed commercial ended with the voice-over announcing, “And now that you know her secret, you, too, can be one of Fortune’s Fabulous Faces.”

Much to Caroline’s pleasure, at the video’s completion, the room erupted in applause.

“It’s wonderful!” Kate crowed, laughing like a gleeful child. “Precisely what we want to get across to the consumer…that any woman who uses our secret youth formula can have a fabulous face! That’s it! That’s exactly what we’ll call it—Fabulous Face! Sterling, make a note to register that name right away. Oh, it’s a clever television commercial, Caroline, beautiful, sensuous, a little mysterious, not clinical at all, even though you manage to get the primary points of the product across…. And the magazine layouts you’ve designed are gorgeous and glamorous yet down-to-earth at the same time, so they won’t make the average woman feel that a fabulous face is beyond her reach. I am just absolutely delighted—and so proud of you, Caroline! Excellent work! Keep it up!”

Even more than her grandmother’s praise, Caroline was thrilled to hear her father’s compliments when he chimed in exuberantly. Jake was very much aware of his position in both the family and Fortune Cosmetics. He had, she knew, given up his own dreams to take charge of the company, resolutely dedicating himself over the years to making it a tremendous success. As a result, he had demanding, frequently impossible expectations, and Caroline understood that she had always taken second place in his heart, that it was her older brother, Adam, whom Jake would have preferred to have seen at Fortune Cosmetics, being groomed as its heir.

But Adam had always been at odds with their father and had never wanted anything to do with any of the family businesses. At eighteen, her brother had rebelled and struck out on his own, joining the military. That had been a bitter disappointment to Jake. And although ever since then, Caroline had striven almost desperately to make up for Adam’s desertion, to win her father’s approval, today was the first time she felt she had truly succeeded. More than anyone else at the company, she thought, Jake realized just how much was riding on the secret youth formula that would prove the culmination of all Kate had ever hoped to achieve in life.

After a few more minutes of discussion, the meeting adjourned, everybody agreeing that the new product was wonderfully on track and extremely close now to becoming a reality.

“Before you all leave, I want to remind you that positively everything connected with the secret youth formula is to remain strictly confidential,” Kate insisted as she gathered up her copies of Nick’s and Caroline’s presentation reports. “We all know the hazards of industrial espionage, and I don’t want any of our competitors getting wind of Fabulous Face until it hits the market. We’re going to blow them away with this one! I can feel it in my bones. Oh, how I’d love to see our competitors’ expressions when they find out about Fabulous Face! They’re just absolutely going to croak!” Kate giggled again like a mischievous child at the notion.

Then she swept from the conference room, Sterling trailing along in her wake, Jake following behind.

“Kyle, I need to see you in my office for a few minutes,” Caroline announced hastily, not wanting to be left alone with Nick Valkov. Even so, her heart sank as she thought of what she must say to her wayward cousin. Over the years, she had become very adept at reading between the lines of her grandmother’s words. So, sadly, Caroline had recognized that Kate’s seemingly innocent observations about Kyle earlier had, in reality, been her grandmother’s subtle way of instructing her to fire her cousin.

In her heart, Caroline knew that what Kate had said was true: Kyle just didn’t fit in at Fortune Cosmetics, wasn’t cut out for the cutthroat corporate world. Not only did he play around a great deal more than he worked, but he had also had a string of affairs and one-night stands with more than one of the supermodels signed to exclusive, multimillion-dollar contracts with the company.

Recently, Danielle Duvalier—who rivaled even Caroline’s sister Allison for face and name recognition in the marketplace—had been so devastated by her breakup with Kyle that she had nearly suffered a nervous breakdown, and Caroline had been forced to send her to the Bahamas to recuperate.

Kyle’s falling asleep at this morning’s meeting was simply the last straw.

So, no matter how callous and cruel it seemed to Caroline, she realized she had to get rid of her cousin. Now, as she and Kyle entered her office together, she mentally steeled herself for the unpleasant task. She loathed firing anybody.

“Close the door and sit down, Kyle,” she directed as she hung her coat in the closet of her luxurious corner office with its wide windows overlooking the Twin Cities and the Mississippi River, which separated Minneapolis and St. Paul at its confluence with the Minnesota River. As Kyle cast his suit jacket aside and sat down in one of the two plush chairs before her elegant, cherry-wood Queen Anne desk, Caroline took her own seat behind it, drawing a deep breath before she spoke again. “Kyle, you know you’re one of my favorite cousins,” she began, only to have him interrupt with a wry grin.

“But I’m not living up to your expectations, am I? I’ve let you down in more ways than one, especially by falling asleep at the conference table earlier, and now you’ve got to fire me. Oh, don’t look so surprised and chagrined, Caro. You’re not the only one who’s got a handle on Grandmother and what she meant this morning with her observations about my character. And to tell you the truth, I’ve sensed this day was coming. In a way, I’m actually even glad and relieved that it’s here. It’s saved me from quitting.” Kyle paused for a moment, running his hand through his sun-streaked hair, his smile rueful but his blue eyes sober.

“I know you gave me a chance, Caro, and for your sake, I’m sorry your promoting me to your assistant hasn’t worked out. But unfortunately, Grandmother was right. I just don’t belong here at Fortune Cosmetics. Hell. I’m starting to believe I don’t belong anywhere! Frankly, the fascination of my jet-setting nightlife began to pall some time ago. But I just can’t seem to find anything more worthwhile to replace it. If you want to know the truth, I’m restless and bored to tears. Honestly, half the time, I feel like just chucking it all and going off to hole up in the wild somewhere, becoming a mountain man or something.”

“Well, why don’t you, then?” Caroline asked, her brow knitted with caring and concern. “Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to be a playboy all your life, Kyle.”

“I know that. But you know how we Fortunes are, Caro. From Grandmother on down, we’re all a spoiled, stubborn lot, each of us in our own fashion determined to have our own way, no matter how foolish. Look at Adam, running off to join the army. Look at you, hiding behind those glasses you don’t need and cutting yourself off from men all because of that worthless Paul Andersen. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not criticizing you, Caro. I’m commiserating. God knows, I haven’t done any better myself in the love department,” Kyle stated glumly. “I need to get out less, and you need to get out more—and that’s a fact. I noticed Nick Valkov seemed quite taken with you this morning.”

At his words, Caroline felt a blush once more creeping up to stain her cheeks. She frowned at her cousin censoriously. “That’s ridiculous! Why, the man’s as big a playboy as you, Kyle. He could have any woman he wanted. Why should he be interested in me?”

“Well, if you’d ever take off those stupid glasses, let down your hair and look in the mirror once in a while, Caro, you’d know. You’re as beautiful as Allie, damn it! You could be one of Fortune’s Fabulous Faces yourself.”

“Oh, Kyle, that’s so sweet of you to say so. But you know it’s not true.”

“The hell it isn’t. Why, if you weren’t my cousin, I’d be tempted myself.” He flashed her the devastating grin that had charmed and then broken so many hearts. “There’s always something about an ice queen that makes a man want to melt her. Trust me. Nick Valkov isn’t any exception. I know the signs. He’s interested in taking up the challenge, all right.” Kyle stood, tossing his jacket carelessly over his shoulder and jamming one hand into his trouser pocket. Then he leaned across her desk to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “So why don’t you loosen up, Caro? Give the man a chance. And don’t feel bad about firing me. You’ve done me a favor. Take care of yourself—and I’ll see you around.” Whistling cheerfully, he sauntered from her office, leaving her staring after him, dwelling on his words.

After a long moment, Caroline shook her head, resolutely forcing herself from her reverie. Kyle was crazy. Nick Valkov had deliberately taunted her this morning only to amuse himself at her expense. He had no real interest whatsoever in her.

Absolutely none.