The C.E.O.'s Unplanned Proposal

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  Katie snapped her fingers. “I knew I forgot something.”

  He nodded, as if he believed her. “I intend to pay you for, uh, your services, Katie. I think you’ve earned it.”

  A ripple of anger flared from lukewarm to boiling, stiffening the backs of her knees. “If you’re going to insult me, Adam, don’t beat around the bush. I’d much rather you just came right out and accused me of being a prostitute, instead of just insinuating it!”

  His arms dropped to his sides and his jaw went slack. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You can beg it all you like, but believe me, there is no need for you to insult me just so you can feel justified in firing me. And just so you know, I was going to quit anyway.” She spun for the door, furious, disbelieving…mortally wounded.

  Amazingly, he beat her to the door and held it closed with one hand while reaching for her with the other. “Katie. Katie. Will you listen to me? I was not insulting you. I was trying to give you the five thousand dollars you’ve already earned in planning this party. It would never occur to me to…to try to pay you for what happened between us last night. That wouldn’t be just an insult—to both of us, by the way—it would be an outright sacrilege.”

  She looked up, her fury deflating like a pricked balloon, quickly replaced by a heated embarrassment…and a sweet thrill at his last words. “A…a sacrilege?” she repeated, liking the sound of that.

  “Or worse,” he assured her. “You seem to jump to the wrong conclusions on the flimsiest of excuses.”

  “All this talk of money makes me nervous,” she offered in a reedy voice. “I thought you called me down here to fire me.”

  “Fire you?” His grip on her arm changed from restraint to reassurance. “Why would you think that?”

  She hated to bring this up. She really did. “Because of this morning. Because of the…” She made an eloquent gesture at the water pitcher, so thoughtfully provided by Abbott, the too-efficient butler. “You know.”

  His gaze followed the dispirited wave of her hand. “Ah, yes, the ice water. I imagine we ought to talk about that.”

  Her chin came up. “You deserved it.”

  “Hmm.” He ran a hand the length of her lower arm, probably fully aware of how his touch affected her, of how it turned her resolve to mush. He was definitely taking unfair advantage. “I’ve been thinking about that most of the day. Thinking about you. And me.”

  “In between phone calls and faxes, you mean?”

  “I didn’t accomplish a blessed thing all day.”

  She peered up at him, hopeful. “Not even the first draft of an apology?”

  He frowned at that. “I was sort of hoping we could call this morning’s incident a draw.”

  “Not a chance. You behaved abominably.”

  “Oh, and dumping a gallon of ice water in my lap was right out of Miss Manner’s rules of etiquette?”

  She blushed, but wasn’t backing down. With his hand on her arm, his fingertips stroking her as they were, she thought maybe she wasn’t going to get fired after all. “Page 336,” she said. “It’s in the footnotes.”

  “You are a piece of work, Katie Canton,” he said and kissed her.

  Okay, so it wasn’t the apology he owed her, but it would do in a pinch.

  ADAM HADN’T MEANT to forgive her before getting the explanations he wanted, but he couldn’t seem to stay focused when she was anywhere near him. Kissing, and other similar delights, were practically all he’d thought about the entire day. The minute she’d stepped inside his study, all flushed and saucy, well…it wasn’t really so surprising that he’d forgotten the conversation he’d meant to have with her and seized temptation with greedy hands. For the moment, it was enough to know that last night hadn’t been a trick of the moonlight or an accident of libido. Whatever magical spell she’d used on him before was still in force.

  And then some.

  When the kiss came to a sweetly reluctant end, he enclosed her in his arms and simply enjoyed the way her body fit against his, figuring as long as she was this close, she couldn’t be reaching for idle water containers. But, with uncanny ability, she seemed to read his mind. “Just because you’re an excellent kisser, Adam, doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed with you.”

  He tightened his hold on her, nuzzled her dark curls. “Sssh,” he soothed. “Stay right where you are and see if the feeling passes.”

  “What if you just say you’re sorry for the way you acted and I’ll see how I feel about that?”

  She felt really wonderful in his arms. “You have me at a disadvantage,” he said.

  “You bet I do. It’s a God-given talent, too, so there’s no point in fighting it. Just apologize and get it over with. Trust me, it’s for the best.”

  “I meant, Katie, I’m not sure why you were upset with me this morning.”

  She stiffened. “Let me refresh your memory, then. That was you?” she mimicked. “The waitress?”

  “You misunderstood,” he said, happy to give his side. “I was surprised, yes, when—”

  “Stunned,” she corrected coolly.

  “Stunned,” he agreed. “When I realized we’d met before at The Torrid Tomato and that you were a waitress, not the party planner I assumed you to be when I talked to you on the phone. I was not casting aspersions on your field of endeavor or, for that matter, on the career of waiting tables, in general. I only thought you should have told me the truth the first time we talked.”

  She drew back a little, although he made no move to let her go, and she looked at him with skeptical astonishment. “You were appalled to discover I was a former waitress and Johnny-come-lately to this whole party-planning experience,” she said. “Admit it.”

  He stiffened a little himself. “I believed you’d lied to me about who you were, yes.”

  Shaking her head, she looked at him with rueful sympathy. “Really, Adam, you desperately need to work on your listening skills.” She patted the breast pocket of his suit coat. “I told you that first evening on the phone that you’d dialed the wrong number, had the wrong person. I said you’d made a mistake. I even told your secretary that when I talked to her, but you persisted, insisted I was who you’d decided I was, instead of just admitting you might have made a mistake.”

  He frowned, finding this a bit hard to swallow. “Mrs. Fairchild told me at lunch that day she knew a reputable events planner and gave me the number.”

  “By mistake.”

  “She told you that?”

  “No, but that’s what it was. I gave her my number, wrote it on her business card because of the Tai Chi class. You probably weren’t paying the slightest attention at the time. But afterward, somehow, she accidentally gave that card to you. But my point is that however the mix-up originally occurred, this whole misunderstanding could have been prevented if you’d actually listened to what I said instead of proceeding on what you’d already decided was true.”

  He narrowed his gaze on her. “And you’re completely innocent in this lack of meaningful communication? It was all entirely my fault?”

  She had the grace to look a trifle guilty. “Well, Adam, you are a very persuasive man, and you did offer me a ride in a Rolls-Royce. And consider this, if I hadn’t given up on trying to convince you not to hire me, you wouldn’t be here now, about to spend quite another spectacular night.” She smiled up at him and that was all it took. He kissed her again.

  Halfway through her very satisfying response, his private phone rang. And, by reflex, he answered.

  JUST WHEN Katie had begun to think maybe her heart and Adam’s might have a great deal in common after all, he answered his phone. His conversation took him away from her in a heartbeat, and she resented the interruption almost as much as she begrudged the caller his focused and intense attention. What had she been thinking…even for a moment? He would never give up this life, never sacrifice the adrenaline rush of a business deal for the relaxed, live-in-the-moment life she treasured. And she could never fit into his
world. She liked going barefoot and traveling light much too much to be content within the structure of the rules he lived by every moment of every day. His middle name was responsibility. Hers, varied from day to day. Even if he could change, even if she could bear to ask him to, it would never work.

  Once the newness of his experience with her wore off, he’d probably answer his phone in the middle of making love to her. And he would never understand why she might resent that. He was all business, all the time already, and any moments she managed to steal from Braddock Industries would be costly. With a sigh, she slipped free of his embrace.

  He didn’t even seem to notice. “Of course. I’ll meet you at the hangar in—” he glanced at his ever-present watch “—an hour. Yes, Lara, I know. I’m leaving right now.”

  Cutting off the call, he offered Katie an apologetic smile and tipped up her chin with his fingers. “I have to leave,” he said. “An emergency. I’ll have Nell get that check to you and if you haven’t already, be sure your resource people know to send their bills to my office.”

  “Anything else?” she asked, wishing he were a different kind of man, more like her, less focused, often impulsive, and that he didn’t always have on shoes with a high-gloss finish. “Any other instructions I should follow?”

  He smiled, not even aware her sadness went deeper than this simple goodbye. “Yes,” he said. “Wait for me.” He leaned in, kissed her sweetly, and left her there.

  It was, Katie thought, only marginally better than being fired.

  Chapter Ten

  Ilsa arrived and the tensions at Braddock Hall shifted. Like a broken clock that suddenly starts counting down the minutes in double time, the upcoming party took on a life of its own and although Katie was busier than she’d thought possible, she couldn’t help but notice the change in the Braddock men. Adam remained away on his emergency, didn’t even call in from the West Coast, where Nell reported he was. That, in itself, reinforced Katie’s opinion of where she ranked in his priorities. He had time to keep in touch with his office, but not a moment to spare for her.

  But she tried not to think about that, concentrating instead on dealing with the million little problems that arose around the party plans. That, and watching Bryce and Peter regard Ilsa with suspicious eyes, while Archer went out of his way to be charming to her and James vacillated between jumping to attention every time she walked into a room and pretending not to notice her presence. Night Owl Monica turned into a hawk, shadowing her fiancé’s every move with an eagle eye and boring anyone who would listen with her involved accounts of shopping expeditions, past and future. Ilsa, cool, calm and collected, gave no inkling that she wasn’t having a perfectly marvelous time.

  Katie found it all very interesting, but her attempts to get Ilsa’s feelings on the stir her presence had caused among the Braddock men met with a polite, but diplomatic, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  By the time Saturday arrived, Katie was thoroughly disgusted with the diplomacy that seemed to stalk the Hall like some gentleman ghost, echoing varying versions of “Pardon me. Excuse me, please. Pardon. Oops, no offense meant. Pardon. Soooo sorry.” Bryce and Peter were obviously fearful Ilsa would somehow usurp their grandmother’s vacant place in the household and didn’t want to show either animosity or encouragement. So they played a polite game of diplomatic tag. “Good evening, Mrs. Fairchild, how are you this evening? Lovely outfit. You must be missing being in your own home. Planning any trips abroad in the near future? Greece is a great spot to spend the winter, you know.” James was even worse with his conscientious and singular efforts to renew his acquaintance with Ilsa without annoying either Monica or his father. Monica kept James on a short leash, and Archer watched the whole charade with a dignified glee, being just attentive enough to his special guest to keep everyone guessing.

  No one, with the possible exception of Monica, who never said anything of interest, anyway, seemed capable of speaking their minds. Except, of course, for the caterers and tent rental folks, who couldn’t or wouldn’t do all they’d guaranteed they would without a great deal of diplomacy from Katie, who found she had little aptitude for it, and even less patience. Who knew a party could be so much work?

  It didn’t help that there was still no sign of Adam or that no one else seemed to miss him, at all. For all Katie knew, he’d eloped with the mysterious Lara and was honeymooning at his office in the Bahamas. If, of course, Braddock Industries had an office in the Bahamas. She pretended she didn’t mind his silence, and she followed his instructions to the letter, accepting the check Nell sent and tucking it inside the duffel she didn’t unpack, telling the caterer and all the rest to submit their final invoices to Nell for payment.

  And she waited, telling herself this was a positive experience, too. Listening to cars driving up, footsteps, the far-off sound of a familiar voice coming closer, closer…the hope that fluttered like a caged bird each and every time. Was it him? Was he here? In a moment, would she see him, touch him, welcome him home? The anticipation was exquisite and terrible, and made her so anxious, she knew with a heart-deep resignation that she must be in love.

  At night, she lay in bed and tried to feel the width and breadth and depth of the emotion, told herself that to explore it, welcome it, wallow in it would be the first step in getting over it. But each night, as the wonderful old house fell asleep around her, she lay in bed, still wide awake, wondering why after all this time, after all her efforts to stay on the move, following one adventure into another, her heart had stubbornly settled on this place as home, this family as the one where she belonged—and Adam, as the stone wall she couldn’t get over.

  ADAM ARRIVED home to find the birthday party in full swing. After a week of chasing Lara’s worthless brother up and down the West Coast from Seattle to Tijuana, he was exhausted and thought at first he was hallucinating. But after a few deliberate blinks and squints, he realized there really were ponies on the lawn and costumed clowns all over the place, and, apparently, a full-blown circus at Braddock Hall. There were guests, around two hundred of them, some in evening dress, some in costume, and there were jugglers, acrobats, and an Uncle Sam on stilts. What in hell was going on? If there was an elephant on the veranda, he was going to have a holy fit.

  Without even going inside to change clothes, as he’d intended, Adam made his way through the scattered crowd—most of whom did seem to be having a rollicking good time—around to the huge red-striped tent that occupied a good portion of the south grounds. It was a circus. A real one, although he hadn’t as yet spied the elephant. There was popcorn and snow cones and peanuts being served by waitstaff in clown suits, their faces painted in gaudy smiles. “Good evening, Mr. Adam,” one of them—Good Lord, was that Abbott?—said as he passed. “Welcome home.”

  Welcome home. Bah humbug.

  Katie saw him first and her smile almost—almost—made up for the fiasco of an evening she’d planned to celebrate his grandfather’s birthday. He’d thought about her constantly while he was away, wanted, no, ached, to be with her again. Was this her idea of a joke? Of thumbing her nose at the traditions of his proud and noble family? But why? And why hadn’t he kept better tabs on what she was doing? Why had he so carelessly given her carte blanche? Why hadn’t he had even an inkling she was planning something like this?

  Because she hadn’t asked for money. If she’d approached Nell even once, the fat would have been in the fire. Nell would have questioned a requisition for an elephant and he would have stopped this disaster before it got started. Katie, the woman he had missed so badly for the major part of every day for more than a week, the woman he was beginning to believe he loved, had been planning all that time to make a fool of him and his whole family. By the time she reached him in the crowd, he was furious beyond reason. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked before she’d even reached him, hating the fact that his heart beat faster with every step that brought her nearer.

  “Isn’t it great? Your grandfather is ha
ving the best time. He’s…” She looked over her shoulder, straining to see Archer in the crowd. “Well, he was on the tightrope walk a minute ago.”

  “The tightrope?” Adam hoped she had enough sense to have an ambulance standing by. “You let my seventy-nine-year-old grandfather walk the tightrope?”

  She looked at him then, her brows below her silk top hat drawing together in a questioning frown. “It’s not high. He’s not going to get hurt on it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m worried about you, Katie, and what maggot of insanity caused you to put together something like this.” His hand swept out to encompass the whole party with his displeasure. “Why would you think, for one second, that I hired you to plan a parody of a party for my grandfather’s birthday?”

  The question cleared on her face, her own displeasure coming to the forefront. “This—” she aped his gesture with an exaggerated wave of her hand. “—happens to be the kind of party he wanted. You know how I know that, Adam? I asked him and then, I listened to what he said. What a concept, huh? Maybe you should try it sometime.” Whirling around, she bumped into a clown wearing a car. It was a cardboard car, suspended around his hefty middle by straps that ran front to back across his wide shoulders. “Great party,” the clown—Holden Locke, as it turned out on slightly closer glance—said to Adam. “Most fun I’ve had while fully clothed since Bryce and I won the Block Island Regatta. Are you going to share the name of your events person, or am I going to have to find that out for myself?”

  “He called 1-800-WAITRESS and got lucky,” Katie said, her voice tight with anger. “Neat trick, huh?” She was gone in a swath of vivid color and Adam, belatedly, noticed she was wearing the red coat and black hat of a ringmaster. No shoes, of course, but colorful ruffs of fabric circled her bare ankles and, unless he was mistaken, each of her ten toenails had been painted a different garish color.