Make Believe Engagement

by Day Leclaire

  She released a tiny sigh, tired of the game he played. She made a point of glancing at her watch. “Shall we get down to business, Mr. Richmond? I’m a little pressed for time.”

  “Sure. Care to join me?”

  She blinked, not quite certain she’d heard correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, would you care to join me?” He spoke with biting clarity, as though to someone of limited intelligence.

  “Join you?” She stared in astonishment, unable to prevent a soft husky laugh from breaking free. “In the hammock? I hardly think so.”

  He folded his arms behind his head—the perfect image of a man at ease. And yet she sensed an underlying tension, a shrewd assessing quality—not unlike her own—lurking behind his lazy, almost insolent grin. He planted a bare foot against the pillar anchoring the end of the hammock and gave a gentle nudge. The hammock swayed, creaking rhythmically with each swing.

  “You’d fit.” His grin widened, his Southern drawl dropping to a dark suggestive murmur. “In fact, I have just the perfect spot for you.”

  Taylor stiffened. This did not bode well for a productive interview. She wanted information from this man, not a game of slap and tickle. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her briefcase. The slick dampness of her palm betrayed her nervousness, and she despised herself for even that small show of weakness.

  “You’re too kind, Mr. Richmond,” she said, keeping her voice crisp and remote. “But I have work to do. I don’t have time to waste lying around in a hammock.”

  His gaze sharpened, fixing on her with disturbing intensity. “You have time. Be honest. You just choose not to take it.”

  “Fine,” she said evenly. “I choose not to take it. Mr. Richmond—”

  “JT.”

  She drew in a deep breath and tried again. “JT. Shall we get down to business? That’s why I arranged this meeting.”

  He sat up, his indolence shed with a speed that caught her completely off guard. “No, Ms. Daniels,” he bit out, his drawl vanishing beneath his anger. “You didn’t arrange this meeting. Your secretary did. You couldn’t be bothered to so much as lift the phone and place the call yourself. That trivial detail had to be left to the hired help.”

  She tilted her head to one side, surprised by his vehemence. “Did that rankle, Mr. Richmond? I am sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. Now come here.”

  It took her an instant to react, his brusque order stunning her into immobility. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you have a hearing problem, Ms. Daniels?” he demanded. “That’s the second time you’ve asked me to repeat myself.”

  “My hearing is perfect, but I—”

  “Then come here.”

  Her brows drew together. There wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to get any closer to him. “You seem to be confused about something, JT.” She deliberately used his first name. She’d often found addressing her opponent with such casual disregard helped her gain the upper hand in similar power plays. “So let me straighten you out. I am hiring you. You do as I say, not the other way around.”

  His rumbling laugh was the most delicious sound she’d ever heard. It swept past her guard and suggested incredible, impossible fantasies. Fantasies that involved her and that hammock. Fantasies that suggested outrageous activities for such a warm sultry afternoon. She brought herself up short. What am I thinking? Never in her life had she allowed her emotions to conflict with her responsibilities. Nor did she plan to start now. JT Richmond was a means to an end. Nothing more.

  No matter how attractive he might be.

  She tried again. “In case you haven’t understood the situation, I’m hiring you, which makes you the employee and me the employer. Use that tone of voice with me again, and you’ll soon find yourself without a job.”

  “You have it backward, Ms. Daniels,” he told her. “If you want to know about Jermain Island and Bride’s Bay Resort, you’ll do what I say, when I say. Is that clear?”

  This was ridiculous. Without giving herself time for regrets should her ploy fail, she gave a curt nod. “Nice meeting you, JT. Let’s hope your next job lasts longer than this one.”

  She didn’t wait for a response, but started back around the veranda. She never heard a sound. From the corner of her eye she caught a blur of movement. Then JT leapt over the railing, landing directly in her path.

  “We haven’t concluded our negotiations,” he said, annoyance giving a chilled edge to his words.

  She fell back a pace. Good Lord. Sprawled in that hammock, she hadn’t realized just how big a man he was. Worse, up close there seemed to be an endless expanse of furred chest. The only relief was discovering that he wore clothes. Sort of. Ragged cutoffs clung to his lean hips, white threads dangling down his muscular thighs.

  She should be nervous, intimidated at the very least. Instead, she felt the oddest sensation, an unsettling combination of tension and attraction. The tension she understood. It was an acute feminine reaction to the aggressiveness of the man before her. But the attraction part—that stirred both confusion and dismay.

  She’d grown up in a male-dominated world, had worked side by side with powerful men all her life. And yet none had ever affected her to the extent this one had. Of course, all the men she’d known had been dressed. Fully dressed. She lifted her chin and gazed up at JT, refusing to reveal any hint of the emotions that threatened her composure.

  “You’re in my way,” she announced, relieved by the steadiness of her voice. She prayed he didn’t sense her physical response to him, a response she seemed helpless to control.

  “You’ve got that right. And I plan to stay in your way until we come to terms.” He folded his arms across his chest, drawing her attention to the sculpted perfection of his shoulders and biceps.

  She jerked her gaze away in horror. What was wrong with her? Her entire life she’d lived and breathed Daniels Investment, never once allowing anything to distract her. But JT’s immense chest—not to mention those distressingly brief shorts of his—were proving an irresistible distraction. She fought to suppress her insane reaction. If she didn’t pull herself together and fast, she’d put that vice presidency in jeopardy. It was a sobering thought.

  “Either we get down to business or you move out of my way,” she announced, forcing out the cold excruciatingly polite demand. “Which is it to be, Mr. Richmond?”

  His eyes narrowed on her in assessment. “Like father, like daughter, is that it?”

  She didn’t flinch. “Yes, that’s it,” she acknowledged curtly.

  He accepted her at her word. “Then, since business is all you know, business will have to do.” A suspicious gleam of amusement brightened his eyes as he added, “For now.”

  She ignored that last part. “I’d like to get on with that business, if you don’t mind.”

  “Go right ahead. I’m listening.”

  She took a deep breath, struggling to organize her thoughts. She hadn’t anticipated conducting this conversation while the narrow points of her heels slowly sank into an unmowed lawn. Nor had she anticipated conducting the conversation with a half-naked man towering over her. But so long as her pumps didn’t sink any farther into the earth and send her tumbling onto her backside, she’d be fine. Just as she’d be fine as long as she kept her gaze restricted to those body parts located above his neck.

  “Very well,” she began. “I’m prepared to pay you a reasonable sum in exchange for all the facts you can give me about Jermain Island. Specifically I need information on Bride’s Bay Resort, its owners, staff and operation.”

  His eyes narrowed, the blue darkening to the color of the sky at dusk. “What do you need it for?”

  “That isn’t any of your—”

  “Business?” he interrupted, cocking a sooty brow. “It is if you want my cooperation. What’s your interest in Jermain Island?”

  A hint of unease touched her. This man might be for sale, but with that purposeful light glittering in his e
yes and the resolute set of his chin, he no longer struck her as the indolent layabout. He revealed far too much determination. And yet…it was understandable. The man came from the island. He probably had ties there. Family. She could appreciate a show of loyalty. She could even respect it—within reason. But perhaps a certain amount of caution would be wise.

  “Before we proceed further, I’ll need your promise not to discuss this matter with anyone else,” she requested.

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  “If I’m to pay you, I expect absolute loyalty,” she warned. “If I don’t receive it, you don’t receive your pay. Is that clear?”

  His jaw tightened. “It’s clear. I won’t discuss your plans with anyone—unless what you plan is illegal or will harm the economic future of Jermain Island. Is that fair enough?”

  She inclined her head. “Fair enough. To answer your question, I’m researching a number of resorts, among them Bride’s Bay. I need help drawing up a detailed analysis of the property, and I’m willing to pay for that help.”

  “Why are you analyzing it?”

  She shrugged. “We’re interested in future investment opportunities.”

  “Bride’s Bay Resort isn’t for sale,” he stated implacably.

  “We’re well aware of that, but it does offer an excellent base of comparison should a similar opportunity present itself.”

  He seemed to accept her explanation. “What sort of details are you after?”

  “My report should cover how the hotel operates and what amenities it offers. The number and function of the staff. The number of guests that visit the island and the revenue they generate. Also, the financial status of the resort, as well as operating and maintenance costs.”

  “That’s it?”

  She shrugged. “Probably not. I suspect I’m forgetting a detail or two.”

  “You don’t want much, do you?”

  His irony didn’t escape her, but she refused to be drawn in. “I expect value for my money,” she informed him.

  He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “All right. Come on, then.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back to the hammock. I prefer to negotiate in comfort.”

  He caught her elbow in a gentle, though determined grip, retracing her path through the grass. It was obvious from the firmness of his hold that he didn’t intend for her to bolt again. She found the knowledge amusing. So she’d read him correctly. He wasn’t about to let a chance at some easy money slip through his fingers. So much the better. Now that he knew she was serious about keeping their relationship on a professional footing, he’d behave himself.

  She hoped.

  At the steps leading onto the back porch, she hesitated. The treads here didn’t appear to be in any better shape than the ones around front. JT didn’t notice her reluctance. He started up, towing her along with him. Only his grip on her elbow kept her from the ultimate embarrassment of falling flat on her face. Even so, after only two steps she was forced to grab at his arm to keep from tripping.

  “Slow down!”

  Realizing her dilemma, he clamped his hands about her waist and swung her up the last few steps, glaring down at her shoes. Dear heaven, he was touching her, his hands circling her waist in a protective inescapable grip. Worse, she was touching him. Touching? She groaned beneath her breath. She clung to him like some sort of love-crazed limpet. Sleek skin and toned muscle rippled beneath her hands, tempting a leisurely caress. Lord, he felt warm. Warm and tough and unquestionably masculine. She drew in a deep steadying breath and prayed that when he released her she’d be able to balance herself atop her wobbly heels. It seemed rather doubtful.

  “If you didn’t wear such asinine footwear, you might manage to climb a couple of stairs, instead of falling up them,” he observed caustically.

  “If I were five foot seven instead of five foot three, I wouldn’t need these shoes.” In her confusion, she’d admitted far more than she would have under normal circumstances. Realizing he still held her in much too tempting a grasp, she pulled free and staggered backward, relieved to find a deck chair behind her. With more speed than grace, she sat.

  JT sprawled on the hammock, watching her with narrowed eyes. “So you buy extra inches in order to what? Give yourself more confidence?” He shook his head before she could respond. “No, that can’t be right. You have plenty of confidence.”

  “Mr. Richmond—” Formality seemed a wise choice right now. Not that it stopped him.

  “Or is it that you’re trying to put yourself on the same level as your co-workers? Are you equating stature with status? It won’t work, you know.”

  “I think that’s quite enough!”

  “Looks like I hit a little too close to home.” He sat up, balancing with careless ease in the center of the hammock. “Do you think a few inches can make such a difference?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t bother to elaborate. The less he knew about her life and background, the better.

  “Interesting,” he murmured. “The Ice Princess reveals a vulnerability.”

  “Where did you hear that name?” she questioned sharply.

  “Not from Linda.”

  “No. She’s too kindhearted,” Taylor agreed, her eyes narrowing. “But it surprises me that someone outside the business community would know to call me that.”

  He shrugged. “I like to be familiar with the people I’m working for, so I did a little research after Linda phoned. I found plenty of people willing to talk about the Big Bad Boss and his Ice Princess.”

  “It would seem my reputation precedes me.”

  “Without question.” He fixed her with a mocking gaze. “Tell me. Was it earned?”

  “The nickname or the reputation?”

  “Oh, I’m positive the reputation was earned.”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “So was the nickname.”

  “How interesting,” he murmured. “You almost tempt me to test it for myself. Almost.”

  He smiled then, and it took every ounce of selfpossession not to allow her anger to rip free. She’d lost control of the conversation at some point and she wanted it back. Fast. “You’ve had your fun, Mr. Richmond. Shall we get down to business now?” She unzipped her briefcase, removing the list she’d drawn up in preparation for this meeting. “Let’s see… we have your fee to negotiate and a lot of details to cover.”

  “Have it all organized, do you?”

  She stared at him blankly. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re a list person.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Is that an accusation or a question?”

  “Neither. It’s an observation. I’m familiar with people who live by lists. They do everything by the numbers. One—get up at 7 a.m. Two—shower. Three— breakfast. Four—dress.”

  “Actually number three is dress and number four is breakfast,” she replied dryly.

  “And what’s under number one on this list?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Negotiate your fee to my advantage.”

  He chuckled at that. “Then let’s get to it.” He ran a hand along his whisker-roughened jaw. “You want quite a few details. That’s going to cost you.”

  A cynical light flickered in her eyes. “Yes. I don’t doubt it. And though I’m prepared to pay a reasonable amount, I expect quality in return.”

  “Yeah, right. Quality.” He lay back and gave the support pillar a shove with his foot, setting the hammock in motion again. “First off, I want five thousand dollars up front, and that’s not negotiable.”

  She smiled, genuinely amused. “Everything’s negotiable, Mr. Richmond, especially your fee. But before I pay anything I’ll have to determine whether the information you can give me warrants any payment at all.” She’d annoyed him, she realized with satisfaction, watching his mouth form a straight grim line. He didn’t like having his abilities questioned. With hick, that could work to her advantage.

  “The information I can give you warrants every dime I’m asking
, Ms. Daniels,” he said, his words taking on a hard edge. “I can guarantee you that much.”

  “I hope so, for your sake,” she replied lightly. “Once you’ve convinced me, I’ll pay you five hundred dollars. Not five thousand, but five hundred. And just to prove what a kind generous person I am, I’ll throw in another five hundred once our talks are concluded and your facts have been verified.”

  He rolled out of the hammock and got to his feet in a smooth practiced move. “Verified? What do you mean, verified?”

  His stance made her nervous—he was too large and too close. His mood had also gone from annoyed to angry, though she wasn’t quite certain why. She gave a graceful little shrug. “Did you think I would accept your word alone? What if you…”

  “Lied?”

  “Actually I was going to say ‘made a mistake.’” She tilted her head to one side. “A Freudian slip, Mr. Richmond? Are you planning to lie?”

  “It’s JT, remember? And no, it wasn’t a slip. I guess I’m just suspicious of human nature and assumed you would be, too. I know your father is.”

  “Boss doesn’t trust anyone or anything,” she concurred.

  “Including his daughter?”

  “I—” She broke off and stared at him. “How do you do it?” she marveled. “You’re good. Really good. Boss would love to have you on his team.”

  “Is that a job offer?”

  She shook her head, nudging her sunglasses farther up the bridge of her nose. “I think we’ll stick to the offer currently on the table. Remember that offer? Jermain Island and Bride’s Bay Resort? Do we have an agreement?”

  “Five hundred dollars if I can give you the facts you need and another five hundred if they check out. Just out of curiosity, how do you plan to verify the information?”

  She lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “By going to Jermain Island of course. I have reservations for a two-week visit starting Monday. Once there, I intend to go through the resort with a fine-tooth comb. And assuming your facts check out, I’ll pay the balance of your fee once my inspection is completed.”

  A deep frown furrowed his brow, and he crossed to lean against the porch railing nearest to her. His thoughts seemed far away, and he stared at the wide sun-bleached planks underfoot as though they held the answer to some vital question.