The Billionaire's Bidding

by Barbara Dunlop

  Well, Emma could be fearless. And she could bury whatever knee-jerk hormones were messing with her reaction to Alex. She’d make her father proud or die trying.

  Emma was on guard Saturday night.

  When they pulled into Tavern on the Green, she waited until Alex stepped out of the limo before she moved across the back seat. Mindful of the reporters waiting on the other side of the red rope line, she smoothed her champagne cocktail dress, and readied herself for a graceful exit.

  Next to the open door, Alex turned to face her. He gallantly offered his hand, and she bit back a protest. She didn’t want to touch him at all, definitely not first thing. But there was no way to refuse the invitation.

  Surrounded by the tiny white tree lights and the glowing lanterns of the portcullis, she took a breath and reached out. As soon as their fingertips made contact, a warm glow whooshed up her arm. She smiled bravely as cameras flashed in all directions.

  Her gaze caught on Alex’s soft, gray eyes. But she quickly blinked her attention away as he played out his role for the cameras. She tried to appear adoring without actually looking at his face—bad enough he was holding her hand. Bad enough she was imagining some cosmic connection between them as they strode the gauntlet of reporters firing questions.

  Then Alex wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her to a halt for the photographers. They were pressed together, from knee to shoulder, and she could feel every single breath he took.

  “Act like you adore me,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I’m trying,” she returned, holding a smile, cursing her traitorous body that was cataloguing every nuance of Alex.

  “Try harder.” He gave the photographers a final wave, then propelled her toward the entrance.

  Emma resisted the pressure of his hand on the small of her back. “Katie and David were right behind us.”

  “They can catch up.”

  “But—”

  “Until you become a better actress, we’re not standing around for the paparazzi.”

  “I’m smiling, already.”

  “That’s a grimace.”

  “That’s because I’m in pain.”

  His arm immediately slacked off. “I’m hurting you?”

  “Mental anguish.” And that wasn’t a lie.

  “Give me a break.” He resumed the pressure on the small of her back as a balding man in a finely cut suit stepped forward to greet them.

  “Mr. Garrison,” said the man with obvious enthusiasm. “So very good of you to join us.”

  “Good evening, Maxim,” said Alex, reaching out to shake hands. “May I present my um, girlfriend, Emma McKinley.”

  His voice softened ever so slightly over her name. Emma’s heart tripped for a split second, while Maxim did a double take.

  “Maxim is the chairman of Teddybear Trust,” Alex explained.

  The burly man smiled broadly as he reached for Emma’s hand. “And you’re the president of McKinley Inns. We haven’t met. But I’ve heard a good deal about you, Ms. McKinley.”

  “Please, call me Emma.” Her smile was genuine now. “I have the utmost respect for the Teddybear Trust.”

  The foundation had built a new children’s wing at St. Xavier’s last year, and they’d funded countless pediatric cancer research projects.

  “This way,” said Maxim, gesturing through the cut glass doorway to the Tavern on the Green foyer. “Drinks are in the Terrace Room. And might I suggest the Pavilion as a starting point for casino games?”

  “Blackjack?” asked Alex, tossing Maxim a wry grin.

  Maxim grinned back. “Last year was unfortunate for you.” Then he winked at Emma. “But I know you’ll bring him good luck tonight.”

  “I’ll try my best,” she promised Maxim, thinking that karmic forces might not be so quick to reward them for lying to the entire city.

  Then Alex recaptured her hand and nodded to the doorman as he placed a quick kiss on her knuckles. Emma struggled to keep her head clear as they crossed into the richly decorated entry. The lobby was festooned with fine crystal and stained glass, while magnificent chandeliers refracted light as they started their way through the winding hallways.

  She caught their reflection in a beveled mirror, shivering at the image of Alex, straight and tall, his strong hand resting on the small of her back, only a hair below the plunging V of her sparkling dress.

  “Would you care for a drink?” His deep voice rumbled through her.

  “A Chablis,” she replied, then cleared her throat against the sultry sound. They were playacting here. He was pretending to be her date for the benefit of the reporters and the other patrons. And she was pretending to like him for exactly the same end.

  She dragged her gaze away from the mirror and vowed to ignore every facet of his sex appeal. She needed to get a grip here.

  He pointed to a doorway. “Through there, then.”

  They entered the Crystal Pavilion, catching the obviously curious glances of other guests.

  Did they recognize Alex? Did they recognize her? She craned her neck, looking behind her for her sister’s reassuring face. “We’ve lost Katie and David.”

  “We don’t need a chaperone.”

  “But—”

  “Tonight’s about you and me.” He smiled, nodded and waved a greeting to someone across the room.

  They stopped next to the bar, and Alex rested a forearm on the polished top, giving the waiter their order before turning his attention to Emma. “You should try to relax and enjoy yourself.”

  Emma couldn’t imagine relaxing under these circumstances. She couldn’t imagine relaxing around Alex at all.

  “In a few minutes you get to start spending my money,” he said.

  “I’ve never gambled in my life.” She didn’t mean it to sound snippy, but it came out that way.

  “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” He snagged a handful of nuts from a crystal bowl on the bar and tossed them in his mouth.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re way too conservative.”

  The waiter set the drinks down on Teddybear Trust coasters.

  “I am not,” Emma insisted.

  Alex stuffed a bill in the tip snifter and nodded his thanks to the man. “Are too,” he chuckled low to Emma as they walked away.

  She huffed out a breath.

  “You can prove me wrong, you know.” He handed her the glass of Chablis, gently steering her back to the hallway. “Just belly on up to the blackjack table and make sure everyone knows I’m bankrolling you.”

  She took a sip of the crisp wine and let the alcohol ease into her system. “Is that what the modern urban male does for the woman he loves?”

  “Since it’s no longer practical to slay you a mastodon. Yeah. That’s what we do.”

  She hid an unexpected grin behind another sip of the wine. “What if I want the mastodon instead?”

  “Are you going high maintenance on me?”

  “Apparently.”

  He pointed to another entryway. “Through here to the tables.”

  “Truthfully, I don’t know how to play blackjack.”

  He shrugged. “It’s easy.”

  Beyond the glass wall, lighted gardens spread out before them, lanterns swaying in the breeze as the well-dressed guests mingled from the restaurant to the patio and back again. The dealers, dressed in black jackets and bow ties, chatted with the guests as they doled out the cards.

  Alex steered her toward a green felt table with high chairs and small white squares printed on the fabric.

  “Hop up,” he whispered against her ear, and she tried not to react to his nearness.

  But then his arm casually brushed her bare back, raising goose bumps and sending pulses of energy to very inappropriate spots on her body.

  “There you are.” Katie’s voice interrupted the moment. “This is fabulous!”

  “Fabulous,” Emma echoed, grateful for the buffer.

  Katie hop
ped up next to Emma. There were already two men at the opposite end, of the table facing the dealer. That left one empty seat in the middle.

  David stood behind Katie’s chair, and Emma gave him a smile.

  “Buy me some chips,” Katie told him.

  In her peripheral vision, Emma saw Alex place some bills on the table in front of the dealer.

  “I thought we were going to the roulette wheel,” David said to Katie.

  Katie patted the tabletop. “I want to play blackjack.”

  The dealer slid four stacks of purple chips in front of Emma. She half turned to Alex. “What do I do now?” she whispered.

  She could almost feel his smile. She inhaled his scent, and the fabric of his suit gently touched her bare back.

  “Make a bet,” he whispered back. “Put it in the white square.”

  The man at the far end bet two green chips, and the other bet a black one.

  “What are the colors?” she asked Alex.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  The dealer placed stacks of black chips in front of Katie.

  Emma pushed two purple ones into the square in front of her, and the dealer gave them each a face-up card.

  She glanced at everyone’s cards, wondering if the man had made a mistake. She leaned back to talk to Alex. “They can see—”

  “It’s okay. You’re only playing the dealer.”

  “Well, the dealer can see what I’ve got,” she hissed. How was that fair?

  “Trust me.”

  Emma tipped her head to look into his eyes. Trust him? Was he kidding? He’d made it clear last night—somewhere between gross revenue and capital depreciation—that he was looking out for his own interests. In fact, he’d strongly advised her to do the same.

  Of course, in this case, it was his money. Who cared if she lost?

  “Emma?”

  “Hmmm?”

  He nodded at the table. “Look at your hand.”

  She glanced down. A queen and an ace.

  “You won,” he said as the dealer pushed a couple of chips into her square.

  “Hit me,” said Katie next to her.

  Even though it was just luck, a warm glow of pride grew in Emma’s chest. She’d won. Her very first time gambling, and she’d won. Whatever happened from here on in, at least she had that.

  “Bust,” sighed Katie, while David shook his head.

  The dealer cleared the cards.

  “Bet more this time,” said Alex.

  Emma stacked another chip in her square.

  “It’s going to be a long night at this rate,” Alex breathed.

  “Why don’t you do it then?”

  He leaned in closer, his hand sliding up to her bare shoulder. “Because we want the world to see me spending a lot of money on you, remember?”

  She turned so that her nose almost contacted his cheek. His spicy scent surrounded her, and his broad palm moved ever so slightly against her shoulder. It would be so easy to sink into this fantasy.

  She reached for her wine. “How about if you bet my money instead?”

  He chuckled. “Doesn’t work that way. Now bet.”

  “You’re such a chauvinist.”

  “Yeah, I am. Get used to it.” He straightened, ending the conversation.

  Fine. He wanted to bankroll her? Emma moved an entire stack of chips into the white square. Take that, Alex Garrison.

  “That a girl,” he said.

  “Holy crap, Emma,” said Katie.

  Emma turned to her sister.

  “That’s ten thousand dollars.”

  “What?” Emma nearly swallowed her tongue.

  The first card landed in front of her.

  “Those are five-hundred-dollar chips,” Katie pointed out.

  Emma’s stomach contracted. She quickly reached for the stack of chips, but Alex stopped her by putting his hand over hers.

  “Too late,” he warned.

  She turned to stare at him, her eyes wide in horror. She couldn’t bet ten thousand dollars on a hand of cards. That was nuts.

  “Play the game,” he calmly advised.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Alex.”

  “Play the game.”

  “No way.” She started to rise, but her hand was trapped by his.

  “You won,” he said.

  “What?”

  He nodded to her cards. “You won again. You really should gamble more often.”

  Emma slowly looked down at her hand, a ten and an ace. She gave in to her wobbly knees and sat back down on the stool.

  “Bust,” said Katie.

  David shifted behind her.

  “How much did you lose?” Emma asked her sister. David didn’t look too happy about this.

  “Five hundred dollars.”

  Emma cringed. “Ouch.”

  Katie tossed two more chips in her square.

  “I think we should move to roulette,” David suggested.

  “This is fun,” said Katie. “We’re having fun. Aren’t we, Emma?”

  “I’m having fun,” said Alex, a definite edge of laughter to his voice.

  David’s nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath.

  The dealer passed out the cards.

  “You know you just let fifteen thousand dollars ride?” asked Katie.

  Emma’s gaze flew to her chips. Good God. Why hadn’t Alex stopped her?

  After a long, tense minute, she won with a three-card nineteen. She immediately swiveled her chair sideways. “I can’t take this anymore.”

  Alex trapped the chair with one knee to keep it from recoiling. “You’re winning.”

  Their legs touched, and the warmth of his body seeped into her thigh. “I’m having a heart attack,” she told him. And it was definitely on more than one front.

  She started to climb off the high stool, and he quickly offered a hand to steady her. “You don’t walk away from a hot streak.”

  “Watch me.”

  She shifted. Whoops. She hadn’t counted on being all but trapped in his arms. A half step forward and she’d be pressed up against him. If she tipped her head, they could kiss. Or she could bury her face in his neck and flick out her tongue to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

  Of course she didn’t. But the desire was strong. So was the image.

  He watched her with those smoky eyes for a long moment. “Okay.” He finally said. “Ever played craps?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Then he gestured toward the hallway, putting an end to the intimate moment. “Craps tables are in the Chestnut Room.”

  She turned to Katie. “Are you coming?”

  “Not for craps,” said David.

  Katie peered at her boyfriend’s expression. “We’ll catch up,” she told them.

  Emma nodded. Then she began walking with Alex. “Can we at least switch to ten-dollar chips?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t bet five hundred dollars at a time.”

  Alex might be comfortable with a high-rolling, high-stakes lifestyle. But she sure wasn’t.

  “You’re already up several thousand,” he said.

  That was true. She felt a little better. She could lose all this, and he’d still be even.

  “If you don’t start losing soon,” Alex continued. “The Teddybear Trust will be bankrupt.”

  Emma stopped, and her mouth formed a spontaneous O. She’d forgotten all about the Teddybear Trust. “I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?”

  Alex chuckled, his hand going to her back to get her going again. “I’ll say.”

  She gave a sigh of frustration.

  Then, unexpectedly, his lips brushed her temple. “You’re delightful, you know that?”

  Her chest contracted around the compliment.

  But then Edwina and Fredrick Waddington materialized next to Alex, and she realized the compliment was part of the ruse. Everything about tonight was part of the ruse.
Alex wasn’t an easygoing, philanthropic businessman. He was only playing his part.

  She forced out a smile as he performed the introductions. No more fantasy. No more intimacy. No more physical reactions. From this minute on, she was remembering it was a game.

  Four

  No matter how hard Emma tried, she couldn’t seem to lose. A crowd had gathered around one of the craps tables, and every time she attempted to pass the dice, they’d erupt in a torrent of protest, shoving them back into her hands.

  She took a deep breath.

  Standing behind her, Alex rubbed her shoulders. “With a bet like that, you’re either going to save the charity or buy us a new hotel.”

  She shook the dice up between her hands. “We don’t need a new hotel. This is getting embarrassing. Don’t you see Maxim glaring at me?”

  “He’s not glaring at you.”

  Emma glanced surreptitiously at her host and watched him run a finger under the collar of his shirt. It was bad enough that she was winning. But the entire crowd was winning along with her.

  “How do I lose?” she whispered to Alex.

  “Roll a seven.”

  “Okay.” She blew on the dice.

  Alex chuckled at her theatrics, and she dug her elbow into his ribs.

  “A little support, please,” she breathed.

  “Come on, seven,” he rumbled in return. “You do know you’ll lose two hundred grand.”

  “It’s not my money.”

  “Yeah. It’s mine.” Despite his protest, he sounded completely unconcerned.

  It wasn’t his money anyway. It was the Teddybear Trust’s money. And she was going to put it back where it belonged or die trying.

  She tossed the dice. They scattered along the green felt table, bouncing amongst bets that probably totaled a surgical wing, hitting the far wall of the table, then rolling to a stop. A six and a one.

  Delight zipped through her.

  She’d done it.

  “Quit grinning,” Alex warned as the crowd groaned.

  Right. The other betters were disappointed. She quickly hid her smile against Alex’s chest.

  His strong arms went around her, and he made a show of stroking her back.