Читать книгу Bride Candidate #9 - Susan Crosby, Susan Crosby - Страница 9

Two

“I see.” Ariel stiffened. She felt as if she’d just gained a hundred pounds, most of it in her feet, which she was afraid weren’t going to move forward on command and get her out of here before she made a bigger fool of herself. “I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time. I can see myself out.”

“I haven’t said no. When I said you figured wrong, I meant about my coming into the city for the Super Bowl. The rest might be manageable.”

Her uncooperative feet stayed rooted. She smoothed her suit jacket down her stomach, fidgeted with the brass buttons, fussed with her purse strap. She’d counted on him—maybe for more than just his help out of a jam.

“I’ve just requested information from the comptroller regardin’ how much we could do for you, financially and with product,” he said. “He’ll bring the answers when he has them. But I’ll also need to check out the Center before we commit. We have to choose our causes carefully. Public opinion is what drives this company. And a good product, of course. We’re on our way up. We can’t afford to become involved in anything remotely questionable.”

Ah. So here was the hard-hearted businessman she hadn’t met. Good. He wasn’t merely a figurehead. She didn’t know why that pleased her so much, but it did. His image—Well, she’d been wrong about him. That’s all that mattered. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased with what you find, Lucas. But money alone can’t save this event from total devastation. It’s going to take a public show of commitment to the cause. From Titan and you. You’re the key.”

“Is your reputation on the line, too?”

“That’s the least of it.”

“Is it? Titan has credibility, enough credibility to turn things around. I need to know something, Ariel. Did you exhaust every other possibility? Was I your last resort?”

She shook her head. “You were the first person I thought of. The first person I turned to. The truth is, I’m desperate. We can’t afford the loss of publicity at this point. You’re high profile in San Francisco. You could make the difference.”

He looked away from her for a moment, then shifted his weight slightly.

“If I determine there’s no reason not to,” he said, “I’ll add the weight of Titan’s name to your cause. Now, don’t get that all-hopeful look yet. There are hurdles to jump first.”

“For me or for you?” Her heart did a little dance at his softening expression.

“Maybe both.” He brushed his fingers along her hair, a feather-light touch. “You know, I hadn’t seen you with your hair up. I kinda miss the way all that honey blond silk flows around your shoulders and down your back. I can’t remember those big brown eyes of yours bein’ so dark and mysterious either. Tell me you missed me, darlin’.”

“Like a fly misses a swatter, darlin’.”

He moved a little closer. “I wanted to kiss you that last night on the cruise. You kinda ruined the mood when I asked to see you again and you told me sure, as soon as hell froze over.”

“So you remembered. I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

He ran a finger along her jaw. “I doubt I forgot much about you.”

She listened to her heart pound. “Not too many women turn you down, I imagine.”

“Just ’cause I’m kinda well-known, doesn’t mean I’m not out there scroungin’ for dates on Friday night like every other man. I’ve had my share of turn-downs.”

“I find that a little hard to believe. One of the magazine articles I read about you called you a party animal, or something like that.”

He toyed with her earring, just barely brushing the skin below it with his thumb. “Amazin’ what a well-paid personal publicist, not to mention a team publicist can do for a man’s image, isn’t it? I might’ve kicked up my heels now and then, but I wasn’t nearly as busy as the media liked to paint me Women weren’t beatin’ down a path to my door, darlin’. Sure made for good press, though.”

Even though her skin rose in bumps of reaction to his touch, she held herself perfectly still. “Maybe you need to give up those cigars you’re so fond of. Personally, I’ve never understood how any woman kisses a man who smokes cigars.”

“Well, now, that part’s simple, Ariel.” He framed her face with both hands and lowered his head. “Like this.”

Any thought of resistance evaporated in a heartbeat, perhaps because she’d been waiting for this moment. Hoping for it. At the touch of his lips, she took flight in a long, slow takeoff of reaction, soared in a current that kept her adrift and astonished and mesmerized. At the feel of his arms enfolding her, she began a free fall of delight and desire and something close to fear. He wasn’t supposed to taste this good, or feel so familiar, or fill so many needs at once. His smoky scent only added to his appeal, making him so distinctive, so much his own man. So much a man she wanted.

When he lifted his head, she was overwhelmed with the need to stay in his arms and be held. He let her go too soon.

Here was the biggest risk. Not the Center, no matter how important that was, but her heart, which was in much greater danger of being lost. She’d known that from the moment she’d met him. Known it and ignored it. Known it and denied it. She still had to make sure she didn’t fall under his spell. He was far too public a person.

Someone knocked on the door At Luke’s invitation, a man walked in, a very tall man with the distinctive look of a Walker about him.

“I’ve got that information for you, Luke.”

“Sam, I’d like you to meet Ariel Minx. You’re gonna be spending a little time gathering some data from her. Ariel, this is my cousin, Sam Walker. He’s Titan’s comptroller.”

“I noticed the resemblance,” she said, shaking off the kiss, trying to settle her feet back on the ground and pull her head from the clouds. “I figured you were brothers, though.”

“Close as,” Sam said. He looked at Luke. “Are we working here or in my office?”

“Here. Three heads will be better than two, in this instance.” He slid his jacket off and loosened his tie. “Grab yourself a cup of coffee, Sam. We’ll be here awhile.”

From his office window, Luke watched Ariel climb into her Explorer. Snow wasn’t predicted for tonight, but he was glad she had four-wheel drive, just in case. The thought of her driving to San Francisco at night, a three- to four-hour trip, depending on traffic, bothered the hell out of him. He hadn’t been able to convince her to stay over, though. Too many obligations at home, she’d said. Obligations. Her middle name, apparently. She worked more than full-time, and all as a volunteer.

“Drop your pants, Luke.”

Ignoring the distinctly feminine command, Luke waited until Ariel’s car was out of sight before kicking off his shoes and unbuckling his belt. The running shorts he wore underneath were a new style and would hit the retail market next month. He’d expected to wear them himself. In training, that is. It wasn’t going to happen now. Hell, he’d be lucky to walk without a hitch for the rest of his life—provided his surgery went well.

“Hurry up. My hands are freezing,” Marguerite complained.

He limped to the sofa, took the towel she offered, then sucked in a fierce breath as she molded a plastic bag filled with ice over his knee. It had taken everything he’d had in him not to show Ariel how much he hurt.

“Do you want a pain pill?” Marguerite asked as he situated himself more comfortably.

“Just took one.” He hated taking them, so he avoided it until the pain became unbearable. He shifted until he lay flat, shoving some pillows under his leg to elevate it above his heart.

“Exactly what was so all-fired important about this meeting that you couldn’t use your crutches?”

“None of your business.” His amiable tone dulled the impact of the words.

“Oh, I see. This is the one. Gotta be caveman for the potential wife.” She snorted. “Her name wasn’t on your list, the last I looked.”

He opened one eye. “I don’t recall seein’ anything about badgerin’ the boss in your job description.”

“And I haven’t seen anything about playing nurse, either, but I’m doing it. Quit being a baby.”

Luke opened his other eye. “Lord, I feel sorry for Sam. I think I’d better clue him m about you before he’s shackled for life.”

“Sam knows what he’s getting. He loves me because I’m bossy.”

“And because you’ve got a body that won’t quit,” Sam said, appearing out of nowhere. He slid an arm around her waist.

“Won’t quit what?” Marguerite teased him.

“Come with me, little girl, and I’ll show you.”

“Stop growling like some lecherous wolf, Sam, and take it somewhere private,” Luke muttered.

“Jealous?”

“Hand me a cigar, then go home. Both of you.”

Sam plucked a cigar from the humidor on Luke’s desk, snipped off the end and passed it to his cousin, along with a lighter. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Luke caught the look that passed between Sam and Marguerite. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Turn off most of the lights, too, please.”

He waited until the door closed before he groaned. As soon as the swelling subsided and the medication kicked in, he’d be able to function again. He knew the drill. Until then, he had to lie still.

He blew a smoke ring, then another. Sam’s innocent query gave him pause. “Jealous?” he’d asked. Yeah, he was jealous. Jealous of Sam’s unbroken body. Jealous of his having a companion to share his life with. But not jealous of his impending marriage, not when Luke could see how hot Sam was for Marguerite.

Luke had made that mistake twice in his life—confused lust for love. Not this time. This time he would choose a woman he knew would be a good companion outside of the bedroom. And someone who didn’t want his money, either. He’d prefer a woman whose body was the exact opposite of either of his voluptuous ex-fiancées, a woman who didn’t make him fantasize.

He knew what he wanted. Home and hearth. Continuity. They had to be on the woman’s wish list, too.

He relaxed as his pain eased. Maturity hadn’t sneaked up on him—it’d slapped him full in the face. First, with the arrival of his thirty-fourth birthday six months ago. Then the damned injury two months later. He might have tried to continue playing ball for another couple of years, hoping that he wouldn’t totally destroy both knees, but he’d decided to stop sacrificing his body for his sport, difficult as that decision was.

Finally, the last big change, the sudden opportunity to take Titan to a whole new level of competition in the industry when his grandfather had turned over the presidency of the company to him. His entire life was going to be different from here on. A normal existence, finally. One where he wasn’t taking orders from coaches and trainers and owners, but leading the team, instead, and deciding the future. And marriage, of course.

Lust wasn’t going to make his decisions for him this time. Not that dubious emotion love, either, whatever that was. Nope. This time he was choosing a helpmate, a companion, a friend.

Gingerly, he swung his legs around and sat up. He’d already had surgery on one knee. Day after tomorrow, the other. Cautiously he stood, not moving until he got his balance, then he walked to his desk, switched on a light and opened his top drawer. He plucked a small velvet box from the corner he’d shoved it into and pushed up the lid. A flawless, three-carat diamond ring sparkled back at him. A ring his jeweler insisted any woman would be thrilled to wear. He snapped the lid shut and picked up his neatly typed list, examining it, top to bottom.

Each name was followed by the details he thought important. They represented a spectrum of professions—Realtor, two lawyers, orthopedic surgeon, physical therapist, actress, loan officer and television sportscaster. Five of them already had children—a definite advantage in his book—but it also meant an ex-husband to deal with forever because of kids being involved. Of the three childless women, he could conjure up the image of only one, the sportscaster for a San Francisco station, whom he’d met last year. He supposed he remembered her face because he’d seen her on television since.

Names. They were just names.

His plan suddenly seemed idiotic. Juvenile. And yet, how else could he get what he wanted? He had to start somewhere.

He let the paper drift back onto the desk, the sound as it landed seeming to whisper a word. He glanced out his window at the darkening sky. A moment later he picked up a pencil and scrawled an addition to the list—the name that had been in his head trying to get out all afternoon:

9. Ariel Minx—

He hesitated. What did she do for a living? Did she have any children? He realized how little he knew about her.

Finally, he added: professional do-gooder. That made him smile.

He took the paper with him as he returned to the couch and stretched out again. He drew on his cigar, contemplating Ariel. He admired that she hadn’t asked for help for selfish reasons. Had she begged his assistance for herself alone, he might have agreed without learning whether it made sense for Titan She hadn’t used that leverage.

Because she’d been so adamant about his not contacting her after the cruise, he hadn’t considered her before, but he could see that she would make a good wife. A great hostess. A phenomenal mother She wouldn’t care that they’d have to adopt, either. She’d love those kids just the same as if she’d given birth to them.

The scent of her perfume drifted over him before he realized how impossible that was. He’d already filled the air with cigar smoke. Wait. There it was again. Soft and flowery. He turned his head toward the back of the couch and sniffed. The leather seemed to breathe her fragrance.

He smiled. That all-business suit and hairstyle had thrown him at first, not looking like his recollection of her. But the fire in her eyes hadn’t changed. That she’d rebuffed him once before didn’t matter. He had a clean slate, he figured, since she’d come to him.

He tried to recall their kiss, but he’d been in so much pain, he hadn’t really been able to concentrate on it at the time. Without being able to put much weight on one leg, it was all he could do to stay upright. Still, if the lust had been strong enough, it would’ve wrestled the pain out of his mind, wouldn’t it? Yeah. He was sure of that. He’d had plenty of experience with lust. He’d only kissed Ariel because she’d all but challenged him to.

Yeah, right. Got some other fairy tale on your mind, Luke?

He stared at her name before folding the paper carefully and sliding it into his shirt pocket. He could make his own rules this time—and there was no rule saying he had to start his search at the top of the list.