The Tycoon's Proposal

by Leigh Michaels

  She tried to ignore Kurt’s sardonic smile.

  “Don’t worry about Janet,” Hannah said. “She’s making a casserole that always tastes better the second day, so we’ll just have it tomorrow instead. And as for me—all this rich food might be why my ankles are swelling. I’ll make up for it by just having a boiled egg on a tray in front of the television tonight. I’ll tell Janet you two won’t be at home for dinner.” She popped out of the room again, calling the housekeeper’s name.

  “That seems to settle it,” Kurt said.

  “Not necessarily. I can boil an egg for myself, Kurt.”

  “In Janet’s kitchen? You must be joking. Besides….” He held out both hands, as if he were actually juggling the options. “Lobster Newburgh—boiled egg. Big decision.”

  “Not for somebody who doesn’t happen to like lobster. Other seafood, yes—but not lobster.”

  “Steak, then. Or we could put it another way—staying home with Gran, Janet and the television, or going out for dinner.”

  “Getting dressed up and keeping company with you and Mindy…. I’d have to think about it.” The trouble was, Lissa reflected, she didn’t have to think about it. Kurt won that competition hands down.

  But only because it would be fun to watch Mindy throwing out lures, she told herself. It certainly didn’t have anything to do with spending the evening with Kurt.

  “Don’t forget that Ray’s coming, too,” Kurt reminded.

  “Well, that fact certainly tips the scale in favor of going.”

  “Was that sarcasm I heard in your voice? I agree there’s something freaky about that guy.”

  “Oh, you’re just still holding it against him that he turned out not to be a woman.”

  “As if that would improve him. Go change your clothes—we need to get moving.”

  “Eager to see Mindy again?” Lissa said sweetly. She didn’t wait for an answer.

  Since there was only one good dress hanging in the guestroom closet, it didn’t take her long to decide what to wear. When she came back into the living room Kurt was staring into the fire, glass in hand.

  “Back already?” he said. “Maybe you’re the one who’s eager to see Ray.”

  She held her tongue until they were safely out of the house, but as she settled into the Jaguar Lissa said, “I want to make it clear that I only came because we need to brainstorm a new plan on approaching Hannah. She doesn’t like the idea of an auction or a tag sale, or your friend in real estate. And arguing about it with her obviously isn’t going to change anything—since you’ve already tried and she just walked out of the room.”

  “Then what do you recommend?”

  “It’s the idea of a sale that bothers her. She’ll happily give things away, just not sell them.”

  “So maybe we just put a sign in front of the house that says Free Stuff, and let people in off the street to choose what they want?”

  “And hire riot police to control the crowd? Do you want me to get in the backseat with Ray when we pick them up, so you can have Mindy up front with you?”

  “I have an even better idea. You drive—”

  “You’re offering to let me get behind the wheel of your Jaguar? Pardon me a minute, I’m hyperventilating at the mere thought.”

  “Because then they’ll take a cab home afterwards rather than risk another ride with you.”

  “You’re funny,” Lissa said. “Just for that I should take you up on it—and you can ride in back with Ray.”

  The address Mindy had given was two suburbs away, and rush hour was still going strong as they drove across the city. Kurt slid in and out of traffic with apparent ease, though Lissa closed her eyes every now and then, while he merged into a lane where she’d have sworn there wasn’t room for a bicycle.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked finally. “Afraid I’m going to hit something?”

  “Well, a nice little fender-bender would get us out of dinner,” she pointed out.

  “If this was my car, I’d consider it.”

  She frowned. “Whose is it?”

  “A rental. I flew in from Boston.”

  “Boston? Do you have a store there?”

  “Not yet. It’s on the list for next year.”

  “You know, Kurt, I really don’t understand why you don’t want Hannah’s house.”

  “For one thing, it’s not in Seattle.”

  “But neither are you, most of the time—at least it doesn’t sound as if you spend any time at home.”

  “Not a lot,” he admitted.

  “And that’s my point—Minneapolis is much more centrally located, so you could have more time at home and still be able to get to all your stores in a hurry. The house is even reasonably close to the airport, and there must be a dozen airlines serving the Twin Cities. You could catch a flight to anywhere, anytime.”

  “Assuming I used airlines.”

  “You don’t? I thought you said trying to fly off the garage roof with a couple of kites taught you a lesson.”

  “It did. I bought myself a corporate jet.”

  Of course he’d have a private plane. “Well, that’s just one more thing we have in common,” Lissa said dryly. “Neither of us collects frequent-flier miles.”

  He grinned at her. “You wouldn’t know what to do with them, would you?”

  She didn’t bother to answer that. “Why do you live in Seattle, anyway? If your first store was in Denver, and you’re such a fan of mountain-climbing—”

  “I wanted to get out of Colorado. And Washington has mountains.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Was it a girlfriend or a business deal that went bad?”

  She thought for a second that he wasn’t going to answer. “Neither,” he said finally. “After four years of college I’d sort of forgotten how angry my parents were with each other. But as soon as I went home to Denver it all came back to me. I’d already started the first store, so I had to stick around for a while—but as soon as it was established enough that I could hire a manager I moved.”

  “They were getting a divorce?”

  “No, they did that when I was three. The odd thing about those two is that they never moved on. Even after twenty years they were still so angry at each other that they couldn’t talk about anything else.”

  “What were they fighting about? Custody of you?”

  “Sort of. And money, of course. And new spouses—every one of them. And who’d broken whose favorite possession when they were still married. And where they should live.”

  “They argued about where to live after they were divorced?”

  “Yeah. What was that address again?”

  “I’ve got it here somewhere.” Lissa dug into her coat pocket. Obviously the subject was closed, though her curiosity was far from satisfied. How did a couple sort of fight over custody of their son? And that bit about his parents’ favorite possessions—did that explain why Kurt lived in a shoebox and didn’t want to get attached to anything material?

  She knew better than to pry; he’d told her as much as he was going to. He’d shared just a bit of what had made him the man he was.

  And he’d left her wanting to know a whole lot more.

  By the time they dropped off Mindy and Ray at Marian Meadows’s house after dinner and dancing, it was threatening to snow again. The sky was low, the air felt heavy, and despite valiant efforts the streetlights seemed to make no dent in the gloom. Which made the weather pretty much a perfect metaphor for the entire evening, in Kurt’s opinion.

  He turned the Jaguar back into the street with a sigh of relief, and then wished he hadn’t inhaled quite so deeply. The cloud of scent which had surrounded Mindy all evening seemed to have remained behind in the car. He’d no doubt have to air the vehicle out before he could return it to the rental agency.

  Lissa, newly settled in the passenger seat beside him, stretched, dug her hands into the pockets of her overcoat, and started whistling under her breath.

  Whistling. Kurt co
uldn’t believe his ears.

  She broke off after a block or two and said, “Well, that wasn’t bad. As dates go, I mean.”

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  She looked over at him, brows arched. “Well, don’t bite my head off about it. I think I was pretty tolerant, considering you left me no choice at all about going.”

  “What’s that you’re whistling?”

  “I’m not whistling anything.”

  “You are. Either that or you’re having a low-grade asthma attack.”

  “So what’s the matter with whistling?”

  “Nothing. I’m glad one of us had a good time.”

  “I did, as a matter of fact—thank you for asking. The steak was very good, and once Ray had made a clean breast of the whole plot he was quite a pleasant companion. I really enjoyed watching Mindy perform. I see sorority girls all the time at the student union, but this was the first chance I’d had to observe closely and see why they’re so different from other people. It all seems to lie in the expectations.”

  Kurt growled, and she shut up. But, as he’d expected, the silence was too good to last. After a single minute of quiet, she started in again.

  “You know, it was pretty funny, actually,” she said. “I thought you were going to drop your fork when Ray finally spit out what he wanted. All that posturing and scheming they’ve been doing—everything you thought was intended to get Mindy and you together—and it turns out all Marian wanted was for you to give Ray a job.”

  “Are you really naive enough to think that was the whole plan, Lissa?”

  “And are you really arrogant enough to think they’re still after you? Or are you disappointed to find out how wrong you were?”

  “I’ve been around this track before. No matter how many times you run the race, the scenery never varies.”

  “Well, that’s poetic. Are you going to hire him?”

  “Actually, I find it humorous that someone who wants to work in Human Resources has to pull strings to get a job.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  “You’re right, it wasn’t. Why are you interested? Are you making sure he can afford to take you out in style before you encourage him?”

  “No. Because if the tactic works, I might try it myself.”

  He swung the car into his grandmother’s driveway. Most of the lights were off, but the bulb above the porte cochere was burning brightly. He parked the Jaguar directly under it.

  “Hannah’s left a night-light on for us,” Lissa said. “Isn’t that sweet? She probably thought it would be the wee hours before we got in.”

  “Instead, it only feels like we’ve been gone for three days. Are you going to get out of the car and come in, or just sit there getting high on Mindy’s perfume the rest of the night?”

  Lissa didn’t move. “I’m waiting for you to come around and open my door,” she said with dignity.

  “I’m not the chauffeur—or the parking valet.”

  “You did it for Mindy,” she reminded him. “It’s that expectation thing, I suspect. She sat still, and you finally remembered your manners.”

  “I was anxious to get rid of her. You, on the other hand—”

  “You’re not anxious to get rid of me?” she asked brightly.

  “The situation’s completely reversed. If you sit out here I won’t have to deal with you at all. Good night.”

  But, though his door was already open, he didn’t get out of the car. Something—he couldn’t put his finger on what it was—seemed to be pressing him back into his seat, keeping him there.

  You’re not anxious to get rid of me? Of course he was. And yet….

  Because if the tactic works, I might try it myself….

  The very idea of Lissa trying to seduce him into hiring her made his head swim. Which was a whole lot more than he could say for Mindy’s methods. Maybe he’d just play along for a while and see what happened.

  He leaned back against the headrest and half turned to face her. “You’re sure you’re waiting for me to open your door? You wouldn’t—just possibly—be waiting for something else, would you?”

  “Like what?” An instant later he saw comprehension dawn in her eyes, and he reached across her and intercepted her hand just as she touched the door handle. “Kurt, if you think I’m sitting here waiting to be kissed—”

  “You kissed Ray good night.”

  “That was different.” She blinked. “I mean….”

  It was, Kurt thought, the funniest thing any of them had said all evening. “Different from how I’m going to kiss you? You can take that to the bank.”

  “It was just a peck on the cheek. It wasn’t even intended to be a kiss. There was an audience, for heaven’s sake, and—”

  “And now there isn’t,” he murmured. “And you might think about how I’m doing you a favor at the moment by shutting you up so you can’t dig yourself in any deeper.” His fingers were still encircling her wrist, and he drew her slowly closer to him across the car.

  She could protest all she wanted, he thought, but the truth was in her eyes. Even in the dim interior of the car he could see uncertainty mixed with desire in the deep brown pools. And the truth was in her body, in the way she went limp in his arms, as if she’d lost control of every muscle, every nerve. Everything but her mouth, which more than made up for the rest.

  Just as it had that first time, so many years ago. The very first time he’d kissed her, when he’d realized that the most explosive substance on earth wasn’t plutonium, but Lissa Morgan’s innocence.

  That was different, she’d said. Yes, it sure as hell was. If she’d made any move to kiss Ray like this….

  Anxious to get rid of her? Not on her life. Not just yet, at any rate.

  It was the wind whipping through his opened car door which finally brought him back to reality. “Let’s go inside,” he said. Obediently, as if half-asleep, Lissa reached for the passenger door handle again. But Kurt didn’t let go—instead, he gently tugged until she slid across the seat and out his door.

  He didn’t have a plan, and he hadn’t thought any further than getting inside where it was warm—or at least he hadn’t given the matter any conscious thought. But the instant the door opened and he saw the pool of dim light in the living room he realized that what he really wanted to do was absolutely impossible. He could hardly hustle Lissa up the stairs and into his room—into his bed—when his grandmother was sitting up waiting for them.

  Hotel, he thought vaguely. Why hadn’t he insisted on staying in a hotel?

  “You’re home already?” Hannah called, and Kurt pushed the door shut and crossed the hall.

  His grandmother was settled on the couch with a pot of hot chocolate on the table beside her, a magazine open on her lap, and Lissa’s quilt spread over her knees.

  “I hope you don’t mind me using your quilt, dear,” she said. “It was getting chilly, with the fire dying down.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Lissa’s voice had a breathy catch and she looked dazed, Kurt thought. In fact, she looked as if she’d been thoroughly kissed.

  He tried to stay between her and Hannah, hoping Gran wouldn’t get a good enough view to figure out what had happened.

  “It’s actually sort of Kurt’s quilt, though.”

  Gran looked intrigued. “Really?”

  “Just a joke, Gran,” he said hastily, before she jumped to the conclusion that he’d changed his mind about all the heirloom junk she wanted to give him.

  “I’m going on up to bed,” Lissa said. “It’ll be a busy day again tomorrow.” She managed a smile. “Since you’ve had a rest, Hannah, I imagine you’ll be a slave driver in the morning.” She stumbled a bit as she left the room.

  “Isn’t she a lovely girl?” Gran murmured.

  Every warning buzzer Kurt had ever heard seemed to be chiming in unison in his head. What was his grandmother up to now? Maybe it wasn’t Mindy she’d been aiming at him…?

  He shrugged and made sur
e that not even a hopeful grandmother could read enthusiasm into his voice. “I suppose so.”

  “Oh, I’d say there’s no doubt at all about it. And they make such a cute couple, don’t they? Ray and Lissa, I mean.”

  “Yeah.” Wait a minute. What’s she talking about? “Gran, did you say Ray and Lissa?”

  “Yes, dear. What’s wrong? Surely you didn’t think I was trying to pair her up with you? Heavens, Kurt—I like Lissa too much to see her be wasted.” She picked up her mug and sipped. “I only stayed up to apologize, you know—I’m sorry I was a bit sharp with you earlier, about your friend in real estate. Would you like some hot chocolate? There’s more here in the pot. Do sit down, Kurt, and let’s have a heart-to-heart chat—about everything.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LISSA LAY AWAKE for a long time, thinking about what had happened in the car. Why must she be such a—such a sponge about being kissed? Add water to a sponge and you could mold it into any shape you liked. Add a simple kiss to Lissa Morgan and she, too, went all pliable and soppy….

  Of course, she admitted, that analogy wasn’t quite true, because it hadn’t exactly been a simple kiss. If a simple kiss was like a jazz piece, then this embrace—with its multiple undertones and nuances—had been a full-fledged symphony.

  And it wasn’t just any kiss which could affect her that way, either. She’d been kissed her fair share of times, and never with anyone else had she reacted the way she did when Kurt Callahan touched her.

  Of course, that didn’t mean there was anything incredible going on here. No once-in-a-lifetime fireworks exploding. All it meant was that Kurt was far more experienced than the usual guys who’d kissed her goodnight at the door. And it wasn’t exactly something to be proud of that she reacted like clockwork to a professional. Particularly when she knew from firsthand experience what an experienced charmer he was.

  Maybe it was the unexpectedness that really got her, she speculated. Every time he’d kissed her, she’d had only an instant’s warning, barely time to brace herself and certainly not enough to mentally prepare. So what if next time she didn’t wait around for him to get the idea? What if she seized every opportunity to kiss him, rather than let him kiss her? Then she’d be the one in control. She’d be ready. And before long she’d be bored out of her skull and he wouldn’t affect her at all anymore…