The Rogue's Fortune

by Cat Schield

  “Easy, sweetheart, I think you’re no such thing. I fully expect you to resist me at every turn.”

  With her blue eyes snapping in ire, color flooding her cheeks and her soft lips parted to deliver scathing retorts, it took all his significant willpower not to draw her into his arms and take advantage of that simmering passion.

  His facial muscles twitched as smiling became irresistible. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

  * * *

  Most single New York women would be flattered that Roark Black had chosen them to play the part of his fiancée. Elizabeth suspected a whistle launched from his loft window would bring a dozen or so running. They’d scoff at her reluctance to get cozy with a handsome, eligible bachelor of Roark’s financial and social standing even as they trampled her in their rush to vie for his attention.

  Was she crazy to hesitate?

  There’d been an intense light in his eye as he said he expected her to resist him at every turn that told her she was smart to be wary. Her heart hadn’t stopped its distressed thumping the entire distance to Chinatown where her best friend lived. Allison and Elizabeth had been roommates freshman year and had bonded over their pathological need for organization and their mutual dislike of the girl across the hall, Honey Willingham.

  “Elizabeth.” The leggy woman with dark blond hair and dark circles under her eyes looked at her with delight. “Your timing is perfect. I just got Prince Gregory down for his nap.”

  “Sorry to stop by without calling.” Since Allison had given birth five months ago, Elizabeth hadn’t seen her friend more than once a month. To Elizabeth’s shame, it stung that Allison was so happy being a mom when Elizabeth struggled to conceive.

  “No. It’s fine. I’m happy to take any time you can spare.”

  Her friend didn’t mean anything by the remark, but Elizabeth flinched anyway. “I’m a terrible friend.”

  “No. You’re just busy.”

  So was Allison. She had her hands full with a colicky baby, but she managed to call three times a week. Elizabeth felt even worse.

  “How’s Greg?”

  “Getting better.” Allison led Elizabeth into the tiny kitchen and fetched a couple diet sodas out of the refrigerator. “He sleeps almost four hours a night now.”

  “Yikes.”

  Elizabeth tried to imagine how she was going to make things work on her own with a baby and no help. She glanced around the kitchen. Dishes were piled in the sink and baby bottles sat upside down in a drying rack. Beyond the breakfast bar, where once there had been a pristine living room with glass tables, expensive accent pieces and tons of plants, only the black leather couch remained and it was piled with a basket of unfolded baby clothes. Colorful toys and a baby swing competed for space on the hardwood floors.

  “Can I babysit for you and Keith one night? Maybe you could go out for a nice dinner?”

  Allison looked so hopeful, Elizabeth’s heart clenched.

  “That would be great. Get you ready for your own bundle of joy.” This last was said with such weariness that Elizabeth wondered if her envy over her friend’s perfect life had been a tad off base. Gasping, Allison leaned forward and grabbed Elizabeth’s hands. Her eyes burned with hope. “Is that why you’re here? To tell me you’re pregnant?”

  “No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “The last round didn’t take.”

  “Damn.” Allison’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”

  “Try again.”

  “But I thought you didn’t have enough money.”

  “I’m going to ask Josie to make me a partner.”

  Allison blew out a breath. “Good luck with that.” She looked immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t what you needed to hear. How are you going to approach it?”

  In the face of Allison’s doubt, Elizabeth pushed aside her frustration and squared her shoulders. “I just handled my first A-list party and it was a huge success. All sorts of bookings are coming in and they all want me.”

  “How wonderful. Does Josie know they all want you?”

  On the topic of Elizabeth’s career, Allison had all sorts of strong opinions about Josie Summers. All of them negative.

  “In her own way, she knows.” But that didn’t mean Josie would ever admit it.

  “You could quit,” Allison suggested with a far too innocent expression. “Start your own event planning company.”

  “You know I can’t do that.” It was a conversation she and Allison had engaged in often in the past three years.

  “I know you’re afraid to do that.”

  “I like the security of a job with a steady paycheck.”

  Allison didn’t appear convinced by Elizabeth’s determined tone. “You could put off having a baby for a couple years while you get your business going.”

  Elizabeth rejected her friend’s suggestion with a firm shake of her head. “I’d rather put up with Josie for the next five years than wait to have a baby.”

  “You’re so sensible.” The baby monitor on the counter next to the sink erupted with cries. Allison stared at the device and held her breath as if even that small noise would further disturb the restless child.

  “Do you need to go check on him?”

  “No. He should settle down.” But the cries became more insistent and Allison heaved a weary sigh. “I guess fifteen minutes is going to be all he can handle today. I don’t know why he doesn’t collapse with exhaustion. I’m tired and he gets less sleep than I do. I’ll be right back.”

  Elizabeth expected to have to finish her conversation with Allison over the wails of the baby, but almost as soon as she vanished into her son’s room, the monitor stopped emitting noise. She returned with her son in her arms.

  “Can you hold this momma’s boy for a second?” Without waiting for Elizabeth to answer, Allison handed her the baby. “I swear he lives to drive me crazy. Just like his father.” The last she muttered, the words almost intelligible, but Elizabeth heard.

  And grinned.

  She buried her nose in the baby’s neck and inhaled his scent. This is what she was working toward. Why she’d accept Roark’s offer to pretend to be his fiancée. She needed to bring in more clients and strengthen her position as Josie’s top producer. Becoming a partner would assure her financial security and she could afford to try in vitro again.

  Her phone vibrated, reminding Elizabeth that she had work to do. As much as she wished she could linger for the rest of the afternoon, there were clients to contact and arrangements to oversee. If she was gone too long from the office, Brenda might take it upon herself to organize something and that would be extremely bad.

  The sun fell across Elizabeth’s shoulders as she made her way to the nearest subway station. Visiting Allison’s domestic haven had done her good. The parts of her psyche that had seemed frantic and out of control were calmer. She was thinking clearly instead of freaking out. Before she headed down the stairs to catch her train, she pulled out her cell phone.

  Almost as if he’d been expecting her call, Roark picked up before the second ring.

  “Okay, Mr. Black, we have a deal.”

  “Just like that?” Despite his words, he almost purred with satisfaction. “We haven’t even discussed what you want in return.”

  “All I want is the chance to make the sort of connections that will further my career.”

  “And you’ll meet plenty of people who will want to hire you. But I’m going to take up a significant amount of your time and I intend to compensate you for it.”

  “How much time?”

  “To be credible we need to be seen together four hours a night, twice maybe three times a week for six months. Twenty thousand dollars is a nice round number, don’t you think?”

  She stared at the sky and blinked back a sudden rush of tears. Her relief was so profound, for a moment she couldn’t breathe. With that much money she could afford to try in vitro again almost immediately. A twinge of conscie
nce returned her to reality.

  “That’s too much. I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”

  “The money is for your time, nothing more.”

  And although every one of her brain cells told her she was crazy, in her heart, she believed him. “It’s still too much.”

  “Very well.” A hint of exasperation entered his tone. “What sort of number did you have in mind?”

  “Thirteen thousand, four hundred twenty-eight dollars and ninety-seven cents.”

  A long hesitation followed her words. When he spoke, his voice was rich with laughter. “Are you sure you don’t want that rounded up to twenty-nine dollars?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Care to share what you’re going to do with that particular sum?”

  She smiled as she imagined the look on his face as she said, “I’m going to use it to get pregnant.”

  Three

  A brisk November wind snatched at Elizabeth’s breath as she exited the town car and stared up at the Fifth Avenue apartment building. She shivered in her wool coat. Nine hours ago she’d agreed to Roark’s mad scheme, proving once again that whenever she was in the presence of a bad boy, she and common sense took divergent paths.

  Roark lifted her hand and brushed warm lips across her chilly fingers. “Have I told you how beautiful you look?”

  Several times. “Are you sure everyone is going to believe we’re a couple?”

  “They will if we seem smitten with each other.”

  “Smitten.” The old-fashioned word struck her as odd coming from someone as masculine as Roark.

  “Can you do smitten?”

  Given the way her pulse fluttered in giddy delight every time he flashed his wolfish grin, she was pretty sure all she had to do was let nature take its course. “I guess.”

  “Just follow my lead.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led the way into the building.

  The urge to gape at the building’s opulent entry almost overpowered her nervousness about the dinner party. It wouldn’t do for her to act like some rustic just off the farm. She’d been in New York City since graduating from high school and had planned parties for many wealthy people. But she was about to step up to the big time. Any false move and she would have wasted her chance.

  “How exactly are we going to break up?”

  Roark shot her a wry glance. “We just started going out and you’re already thinking about how things are going to end?”

  “A girl has to be practical.” So she claimed. Too bad she’d never been able to behave sensibly when it came to her love life.

  “Why don’t you forget about being practical for a while?”

  “Tempting.” She offered him a counterfeit smile. “But unrealistic. This is a business deal, remember?”

  “I doubt I could forget with you reminding me every ten minutes,” he mused. They’d stopped before a door. “Can we discuss the demise of our relationship on the way home?”

  “Of course.”

  A woman in her early forties, wearing a maid’s uniform, opened the door for them. Elizabeth stepped through and slipped out of her best winter coat. Because Roark was using her to tone down his reputation as a ladies’ man, she wore a conservative wrap dress the color of claret.

  With her hair’s natural wave flattened by a straight iron and her grandmother’s simple garnet drops dangling from her ears, Elizabeth knew she presented a classic, elegant picture.

  “Absolutely beautiful,” Roark murmured as he placed his hand in the small of her back and escorted her toward the living room where the rest of the guests had gathered.

  Their engagement might be a sham, but there was nothing phony about Roark’s flattering words or his affectionate tone. The chemistry between them was real. She felt the tug of it every time he took her hand or caressed her with his gaze.

  Man, oh man, she was in trouble.

  “Good evening, Roark. And this must be the woman who captured your heart. I can understand why. I’m George Cromwell.”

  Elizabeth recognized the man from the wine auction, but doubted he’d remember her. She worked hard to be a ghost at the events she planned. Always around, but invisible to the guests.

  “Elizabeth Minerva,” she said. “You have a lovely home.”

  “My wife has exceptional taste. She picked me after all.” He laughed at his own joke. “Let me introduce you.”

  By the time dinner was announced, Elizabeth had become way too conscious of her tall, handsome companion. He wouldn’t stop touching her. Simple brushes of his fingertips at her waist, his palm against the small of her back, his lips across her temple. Grazing contact that demonstrated his adoration for the benefit of all onlookers. If it had been any other man, Elizabeth would have endured it without a blip in her heart rate.

  But Roark Black wasn’t any other man. He was dangerous, charismatic and intelligent. A lethal combination where her common sense was concerned.

  “I just love the way you two can’t keep your eyes off each other,” murmured Elizabeth’s dinner companion. An elegant woman in her mid-fifties, she was on the board of several charities and had promised to call Elizabeth about upcoming events. “Roark is such a favorite of mine. I’m glad he found someone who makes him happy.”

  Elizabeth smiled to hide her dismay. It was way too easy to act like a woman in love with Roark. Before tonight she’d believed him to be nothing more than a bad boy who charmed women and left a trail of loneliness behind him. But she’d watched him impress everyone with his wit and wry humor and realized there was more to Roark than what the papers printed. Had she taken on more than she could handle?

  * * *

  “That went well,” Roark commented as he handed her into the back of his black town car. “I think we managed to convince everyone that you’ve tamed me.”

  Her lips twitched. “You’re mad if you think anyone believes you tamed.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Upon entering the car, he’d let his head fall back against the rich leather. Now, he glanced her way, his eyes sparkling. “But they all can see that I’ve been leashed by the power of my feelings for you.”

  Despite the fact that his words were completely untrue, Elizabeth couldn’t stop the thrill they awakened. Her proclivity for bad boys had its roots in the fantasy that one day she’d meet one she could tame. It was a frustrating dilemma because she wasn’t at all attracted to the good guys. They were boring. So what happened if she tamed a bad boy? Would she grow bored?

  Elizabeth knew she’d never find out.

  “Now can we discuss what happens when those feelings end?”

  “You’re like a terrier with a rat, aren’t you? Pursuing the thing past the point of exhaustion.”

  She regarded him, unaffected by his mockery. “Something like that.”

  “Do you want me to be the villain?”

  She wasn’t completely sure if he was the hero, but he’d been placed in the role of bad guy far too often.

  “Since the engagement is supposed to repair your reputation,” she said, “that would be counterproductive. Can’t we mutually decide it’s not going to work?”

  “I really think it would be better if you broke my heart.” Roark took her hand and placed it on his chest.

  Her emotions tumbled as his heart thumped hypnotically against her palm. “And why is that?”

  “Because I don’t want to ever hurt you.”

  The tone of the conversation had gone from flirtatious to serious so fast it took her brain a second to catch up.

  “That’s chivalrous of you.” She tugged to free her hand, but not hard enough to break his grip.

  His fingertips trailed along her cheek, setting her skin ablaze. “I mean it.”

  “I know you do,” she assured him, pulling his hand from her face. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”

  * * *

  Roark stood in the middle of his living room and marveled. Chased out at eight that morning b
y the phalanx of workers that had descended on the loft, he’d stayed away until he could no longer bear the curiosity.

  In seven hours, Elizabeth had transformed the monochromatic, sterile space into a Moroccan dream. Using the room’s height, she’d fashioned a tent of sorts. Gold-shot, jewel-bright fabric, attached to the ceiling and walls, masked the room’s industrial feel. She’d removed his white couches and replaced them with chaise lounges. A hundred pillows, all different sizes and colors, covered the plush oriental rugs. Three large punched-metal lamps hung down the center of the room, spilling soft light over the décor.

  At the center of all the decadent color and texture stood Elizabeth, classically elegant in a simple navy pantsuit, her hair smoothed into her signature French roll, as she directed last-minute touches of lavish flower arrangements and bowls of apples, dragon fruit, mangos and star fruit.

  The urge to ease her down onto a spill of floor pillows and mess up her perfection overtook him. In fact, he took three steps in her direction before he awoke to the realization that they were not alone in his loft. His intention must have been written all over his face because a slim brunette in her mid-thirties stared at him with wide eyes.

  “Hello,” he said, reeling in his lust. “I’m Roark Black.”

  “S-Sara Martin. I’m helping Elizabeth with your event.”

  At the sound of her name, Elizabeth turned and noticed him for the first time. Her serene satisfaction, so dissimilar to the chaotic emotions thundering through his body, increased his craving for her.

  “What do you think?” Elizabeth questioned, obviously pleased by the results she’d achieved. “Hard to believe it’s a loft in Soho, isn’t it?”

  The longing to feel a smidgeon of her delight caught him off guard. That whole stop-and-smell-the-roses thing had never been on his agenda. He’d jumped from one adventure to another without pause, almost as if he was running from something. What? Boredom? Loneliness?

  What had he gained from his travels except for questions about his character and a bunch of trinkets?

  “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

  “I hope your friends think so.” The tiniest flicker of uncertainty clouded her deep blue eyes.