Sex, Lies and the CEO

by Barbara Dunlop

  “You’re making me hungry.”

  Jennifer grinned while Darci turned to position the center painting.

  “How’s that?” Darci asked.

  Jennifer took a few steps back. “Perfect.”

  She retrieved the next largest painting and passed it to Darci.

  Darci married the hook to the hanger. Then she stepped down to see how they looked.

  “The spacing looks right to me,” said Jennifer.

  There was about four inches of cream-colored wall between the two connected oils.

  “You’ve given me a craving for ice cream,” said Darci.

  “We don’t have any ice cream. But I do have a box of almond-caramel crunch.”

  “Bring it on.”

  While Jennifer went for the chocolates, Darci moved the ladder and measured for the next picture hook.

  “Tell me about your upcoming date,” Jennifer called from the kitchen.

  “Dinner and wine on his deck. My plan so far is to get him to the wine cellar, pretend I need the restroom, then snoop my way through the basement.”

  “And if he comes after you?”

  “I’ll pretend I’m lost.”

  “It might work,” Jennifer conceded.

  On her return, she picked up the remote control and put on the TV in the living area. A news reporter’s voice filled the background.

  “He might get suspicious.” Darci hung picture number three, then stepped back, liking how it looked. “But he’s never going to guess the truth.”

  “Maybe he’ll think you’re a reporter writing an expose on him,” said Jennifer.

  “You think?” That hadn’t occurred to Darci.

  “You wouldn’t be the first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look,” said Jennifer.

  Darci turned.

  Jennifer pointed to the television. “Bianca Covington just published a book.”

  “Who’s Bianca Covington?”

  “Somebody gorgeous and famous, I guess.”

  Darci moved for a better view. A young blonde woman sat across the table from Berkley Nash, an infamous, local reporter. The camera zoomed in on a book with a fuchsia cover, titled Shane Colborn—Behind the Mask.

  “The perils of being rich,” said Jennifer.

  “I wonder if it’s flattering,” said Darci while a headshot of Shane came up on the screen. Her chest contracted at the sight. He was cover-model gorgeous.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t combat her rising trepidation. Why had he been so insistent about arranging a date with her when he could have any woman in the city? Sure, she’d been wearing a four-thousand-dollar dress, and her hair and makeup had been stellar. But she was no Bianca Covington.

  She had to allow for the possibility that Shane knew who she was and was stringing her along.

  “There are some scandalous accusations between these pages,” said Berkley.

  Bianca gave a throaty laugh. “I think readers will be shocked to discover the dark side of Shane Colborn.”

  Jennifer raised her brows at Darci. “Dark side?”

  “I’m sure she’s exaggerating for ratings.”

  “You’re going to his mansion.”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “Alone.”

  “He’s not Count Dracula.” Darci wasn’t fearful at all. Well, except for the worry he might know her real identity.

  “But you’re going to cross him.”

  “I am.”

  “And he’s got a dark side.”

  “Well, I have a dark side, too. I’m spying on the man.”

  “Ruthless,” Bianca stated with conviction, her darkly outlined eyes wide. “And completely narcissistic. The silver spoon is still lodged in that man’s mouth.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” said Darci.

  Except for the ruthless part, she supposed.

  Maybe she should pick up a copy of Bianca’s book before Friday, just so she’d know what she was up against.

  * * *

  At a corner table in Daelan’s Bar and Grill, Shane could feel the critical glances of the other patrons flick from the television above the bar to him and then back again.

  “It’s about what we expected,” said Justin as the news program moved on from Bianca. “And at least we’re still in the running for the Gobrecht Airlines contract.”

  “She’s pretty hot,” said Tuck, taking a drink from the mug of lager in his hand.

  Shane had a deluxe burger and fries on a plate in front of him. A minute ago, he’d been starving. But now he’d lost his appetite.

  “This is going to go on for a while,” he stated to no one in particular.

  “She does seem to enjoy the limelight,” said Justin.

  “Was she worth it?” asked Tuck.

  “Not even close,” said Shane.

  Bianca had been bubbly, energetic and fun. Agreeable to anything Shane suggested, he realized now that she’d been humoring him. She probably wasn’t even a Bulls fan.

  “There has to be a way to fight back,” he said.

  Over the past few days, he’d concluded that Justin was right. It didn’t much matter what she said about their sex life. But her accusations of corporate misconduct stood to hurt Colborn Aerospace.

  “Fuel to the fire,” said Justin.

  “Libel? Slander?” asked Shane.

  “You have to be ready to prove it.”

  Tuck stepped in. “I’d be willing to go undercover. Date her. Sleep with her. Write some juicy lies about her.”

  “She knows we’re friends,” said Shane. Not that he’d ever agree. He wanted to stop her, not get revenge.

  “Worth a try,” said Tuck.

  “You can’t sleep with your friend’s ex,” said Justin.

  “I shouldn’t sleep with my friend’s ex,” said Tuck. “But once she betrays him, all bets are off. Shane doesn’t care if I sleep with her. Do you, Shane?”

  “The woman can sleep with an entire offensive line for all I care.”

  “See?” said Tuck.

  “You have no morals,” said Justin.

  “Bianca has no morals,” said Shane.

  Tuck raised his glass. “I think we can all agree on that.”

  The men clicked mugs, and each took a swig of beer.

  “So, what happened with Darci?” asked Tuck.

  “You stay away from Darci,” Shane warned, deciding to eat some of the fries, after all. No point in starving for the sake of his deceitful, immoral ex.

  “Who’s Darci?” asked Justin.

  “The anti-Bianca,” said Shane.

  “She saves orphans and feeds the hungry?”

  “It was all I could do to get her to say yes to a date with me.”

  “Date?” Justin’s attention immediately perked up. “What date?”

  “She could be purposely playing hard to get,” said Tuck.

  “Not my take,” Shane said to Tuck, ignoring Justin. “But you know her. What’s she like?”

  “Grew up in Chicago,” said Tuck. “She went to Colombia. From what I can tell, she’s a regular gal. Has her own business, designing websites.”

  “You need to stay stag for a while,” said Justin.

  “Relax. It’s dinner at the mansion. No crowds, no cameras, just the two of us.”

  Something warm settled inside Shane when he thought about Friday’s date. Darci seemed so fresh and genuine. That she’d chosen the privacy of his mansion over a play and a trendy restaurant was a good sign. She reminded him that not all women fixated on his wealth and status. Sometimes, they simply wanted to get to know him.

  Four

  “You read the
book?” Shane asked as he topped up Darci’s wineglass and then refilled his own.

  “Of course I read the book,” she answered.

  Finally, they’d emptied the bottle of wine that had been open and on the table when they started dinner. Maybe now she had a chance at getting to the wine cellar.

  “I’m sorry you did that,” he said.

  “Because it’s unflattering?”

  “Because it’s unflattering, and it’s nowhere near to being true.”

  She didn’t blame him for being upset about the book. True or not, she sure wouldn’t want people to read such intimate details about her.

  “Tell me which parts are lies.”

  “It would be a lot faster to tell you which parts were true.”

  Candlelight flickered in the warm night breeze. The scent of roses wafted up from the gardens while leaves rustled in the oak trees beneath a panorama of stars.

  “Okay. Which parts are true?” She raised her glass to her lips. She was already feeling a bit lightheaded, but she couldn’t suggest they head down to the wine cellar until she polished off this last glass.

  “My name is Shane Colborn.”

  She waited.

  Then she smiled at what she assumed was his joke. “Yeah, I’m not buying that.”

  “That my name is Shane Colborn? I have government-issued ID to prove it.”

  “Own it, Shane. What else is true?”

  He twirled the stem of his wineglass. “She got my car right, make and model, not the year. We did spend a weekend in Aspen. But her tour of the Colborn facility stopped at the executive boardroom and my private—” He paused to take a sip of his wine.

  She struggled not to snicker at his obvious embarrassment.

  He frowned at her. “We never even went near my private bathroom, never mind had sex in it.”

  “I’m not judging.”

  He drew a breath. “I sure never discussed clients with her and never anything about a business deal. I wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t have understood anyway.”

  “So, how’d it get in the book?”

  “Some of the information was on the public record, and some was fabricated. She must have had an expert do research for her to give it an air of authenticity.”

  Darci kept her expression neutral. “And they discovered you were stealing intellectual property?”

  “That part was entirely a lie. I’m saying she found someone to help her make the lie sound credible.”

  “That seems like a lot of work.” Darci couldn’t help but wonder if Shane had inherited his father’s deceitful inclinations.

  Shane’s eyes narrowed, and she quickly realized she had to do a better job of acting. Now wasn’t the time to accuse him of anything dishonest, no matter how emotionally satisfying it might feel in the moment.

  “I meant she doesn’t strike me as the type to undertake complicated research and analysis to reach her goal,” said Darci.

  “You got that right,” said Shane. “Somebody else might be pulling the strings. On the surface, it looks like a vindictive ex-girlfriend out for monetary gain. But it could be someone using her to go after me and Colborn Aerospace. We’re in the midst of some delicate contract negotiations. It could be a competitor.”

  “Is that what you think?” The complexity of his theory told Darci that Shane was familiar with underhanded corporate schemes. Probably because he undertook them himself.

  “It has to be one or the other,” he said.

  “I suppose.”

  “What’s your theory?”

  “I don’t have a theory.”

  “Come up with one.”

  She thought about it. “Maybe you’re lying, and everything she says is true.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “You could come to bed with me and find out.”

  “That wasn’t the part—” She’d meant the corporate stories, not the lovemaking stories. “You’re joking.” Of course he was joking.

  A gleam came into his blue eyes. “Would you like it if I waxed poetic?”

  She gave him a mock minitoast that reminded her to keep drinking. “Nice try, but I’m not walking into that one.”

  “I’ve never quoted Byron before, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

  She polished off her wine. Then she gave him what she hoped was an enigmatic smile. “Any chance of getting ourselves another bottle?”

  “I’ll have one brought up.”

  “I’d rather go down and browse.”

  He looked confused. “That’s not necessary. We don’t need to—”

  “It was fun last time. And I was hoping to learn a little more about wine.”

  His expression softened. “Okay then. Whatever you’d like.” He rose, moved around the table and pulled back her chair.

  “This is very accommodating of you,” she said.

  “Despite what Bianca’s telling the world, I’m a perfectly wonderful guy.”

  Darci set her linen napkin on the table and came to her feet. “I’ll admit you have a great wine cellar. And your manners are faultless and the place is stunning. That’s all very classy.”

  “That’s just the money,” he said, a slight edge to his voice as they crossed to the open patio doors.

  “You do have a lot of money.”

  “Sometimes it’s annoying.”

  She didn’t believe that for a minute. “You’re saying you’d rather people liked you for who you are?”

  “Wouldn’t everybody like that?”

  “Then why serve me dinner in a mansion with, I don’t know, two dozen staff members?”

  He hesitated. “Because you said yes.”

  He had a point there.

  “Also to impress you,” he said.

  “I don’t think you can have it both ways.”

  “Usually, I can.”

  “Until Bianca came along?”

  “I’m tired of talking about Bianca.”

  “Sorry.” Darci could have kicked herself.

  “She was only ever interested in the money. And now I want it the other way. I want to meet someone who doesn’t care about the money.”

  “It’ll be tricky to find a woman who doesn’t know about your wealth. You were famous before, doubly now.”

  They made it to the top of the basement stairs.

  “Do you think that many people will read the book?” he asked.

  She was pretty sure they would. “It had its very own display, right up at the front of the store.”

  Shane swore under his breath, and for a second, she actually felt sorry for him.

  “That’s probably just in Chicago,” she said.

  His voice took on a note of horror. “You think it’s like that all over Chicago?”

  She thought maybe the entire Midwest, but she didn’t say so.

  “There’s something fundamentally wrong,” he said as he led the way down the staircase, “when a person can say or do anything that destroys another person’s reputation, no matter how outrageous or untrue, and there’s virtually no defense.”

  Darci’s tone went flat. “No kidding.”

  She couldn’t help but wonder if Shane knew about his father’s treachery, how Dalton Colborn had ruined her own father’s reputation and life. On the scale of things, Shane’s family was far worse than Bianca.

  They turned and walked down the hallway to the large wooden door of the wine cellar. There, he crouched down and slid open a discreet panel at the bottom corner and extracted the key.

  “Now you know the secret,” he said as he inserted it into the lock.

  She forced away her anger, cautioning herself to keep her emotions under control. “I thought you carried the key with you.”

&nbs
p; “I just took it out for the party. Can’t have a dozen guests know where to find it.”

  “I’m honored that you—” She stopped herself, swallowing the words trust me.

  She pushed down a surge of guilt. She absolutely shouldn’t be trusted.

  “Here we go,” he said.

  The door opened inward, and he flipped on the lights.

  Darci found herself amazed all over again at the size of the cellar and at the sheer number of bottles stacked in the racks.

  “How do you navigate your way through all this?” she found herself asking with genuine curiosity.

  “It’s organized by continent and country,” he answered, walking toward the back. “Then by region and grape variety. And there’s a general bottom-to-top price trend.”

  She tipped her head to one side. “The really good stuff is up high?”

  “The taller you are, the better in here.”

  She smiled. “I’d need a ladder.”

  “There’s a rickety step stool in the corner. The theory being, if you’re too drunk to climb up to the good stuff, you’re too drunk to appreciate it.” He took a couple of paces. “Here we are in the Bordeaux region of France.”

  “Old World?” she guessed.

  “This section will be mostly cabernet sauvignon grapes. If we move to the left, there’ll be more merlot in the blend. Did you like the bottle we just had?”

  “It was fantastic.” She feared she was getting spoiled.

  “Then maybe...” He stretched to reach up.

  “Still trying to impress me?” she asked.

  “How am I doing so far?”

  He turned to gaze at her with a warm smile, and her breath caught in her throat. His lips were full, his expression soft. A sensual glow lurked deep in his eyes. He was tall, strong, handsome and sexy. He was also smart, classy and funny.

  If she hadn’t been spying on him, hadn’t known the dark secret of his family’s wealth, she probably would have thrown herself into his arms. Instead, she ruthlessly reminded herself of her mission.

  “Is there a washroom down here?” she forced herself to ask.

  “That’s a cop-out.”