by Susan Meier
His baby.
He shook his head to clear it of the totally absurd thought.
She pointed to a discreet sign on a table only a few feet away. She said, “Thirty-one,” and started moving toward it.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Not that the vision was gone, but also that she’d finally started walking. They reached their seats and he pulled out her chair for her.
She sat. “I want lots of kids.”
He sat beside her. The discussion might not have changed, but it had shifted off him and to her. That he could handle. “While you’re globe-trotting for your schools?”
“There are ways around that. Like nannies. And my mom.” She laughed. “I don’t have a doubt that she’ll be a hands-on grandmother.”
His breath stalled as a memory of his own grandmother popped into his head. If she’d been “hands-on” it had been with her palm to his bottom when she’d decided that he’d misbehaved.
He rose and shook hands when another couple arrived at their table, working to bring himself back from the memory of his grandmother paddling him for spilling milk when he was five or asking for a baseball mitt when he was seven.
But as he frantically struggled to block his bleak, solitary childhood from his brain, Kristen said, “I can’t imagine not having my own family. I mean, I love my parents and all, but I want a crack at being a mom. Teaching someone everything I know.”
An empty feeling filled him and on its heels came an envy so strong it was a battle not to close his eyes. She must have had a wonderful childhood. But being jealous was stupid, pointless. He’d gotten over his hollow beginnings years ago. Being lonely had forced him to entertain himself, and that ultimately had made him rich. He was pragmatic about his past. So, it shouldn’t make him feel bad that his childhood had been crap. Just as it shouldn’t make him jealous that Kristen was so confident in her decision to have kids. Or make him wonder how much fun the family she intended to create would be.
Dinner was served, a very untraditional meal of steak and vegetables. To his surprise, Kristen ate with gusto. While the wives of his counterparts pushed their food around their plates, Kristen ate every bite of her steak and was on the edge of her seat waiting for dessert. Crème brûlée.
Then he realized they hadn’t fed her all day. He’d had a sandwich and fries delivered to his office as he’d made all his calls to brokers, but he’d forgotten to tell Stella that Kristen hadn’t eaten. And skinny Stella was known to skip meals.
He leaned over and whispered, “I’m sorry we forgot lunch.”
Her head tilted as she smiled. “I slept the day away. I was fine.”
Her pretty face made his breath stutter again. Her smooth, pink skin glowed in the candlelight. Her genuine smile warmed him. She wasn’t faking having a good time.
And hadn’t she said she needed a good time?
Ignoring the odd happiness that filled him when he realized he’d done something to please her, he motioned to her plate. “You were obviously starving.”
She frowned. “You think I was starving because I ate all my steak?” She burst out laughing. “I eat like that all the time.”
Her laugh made him laugh. Muscles he hadn’t even realized were knotted untangled. She really was the most honest, most open person he’d ever met. He might feel the need to fight all the crazy feelings she inspired, but he simply could not help relaxing around her.
Gina McMurray, wife of Tim McMurray, leaned across the table. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, oh, my God, I would love to eat like that.”
Sherri Johnson said, “Me too. I can’t, though. I’d blow up like a cow. What’s your secret?”
Kristen said, “Good metabolism probably. But my parents own a dairy farm. I still do my fair share of the chores.”
Sherri nodded. “When I ran around after my kids, I didn’t have to worry about weight, either.”
Gina said, “I guess it’s all about moving.”
As the women chatted, Dean glanced over at Kristen and let her work her magic. He now trusted her enough not to worry about what she’d say or how she’d say it. He liked hearing her tell their tablemates about her life. She was interesting. She worked for a princess, lived on a farm very different from anything he’d ever experienced and had a degree that she intended to use to start a charity that built schools. While she did all that, she wanted to have kids, and teach them to be citizens of the world.
It was no wonder he liked her.
She was amazing.
George Perkins walked on stage and took the microphone. He wished everybody a merry Christmas and announced the dancing would begin. All the men at his table asked their wives to dance and Dean knew it would look odd if he and Kristen didn’t join them on the floor.
He rose and held out his hand. “Shall we?”
She smiled. “I’d love to.”
He led her to the dance floor and took her into his arms, where she fit perfectly. She was the right height for him. She was pretty. She had just enough sophistication that it didn’t impinge on her natural, innocent charm. She ate when she was hungry. She wanted to have kids. She wanted to change the world.
All his crazy feelings around her came into focus, and he nearly stopped dancing. She wasn’t just amazing. She was the perfect woman for him. Of course he was attracted to her. Of course he wanted her.
If there was such a thing as the woman of his dreams, it was Kristen.
Happiness mixed with a knowing that expanded his chest with a fierce need to kiss her, and his heart with a longing to keep her—to never let her out of his sight—that he’d never felt before.
It also explained the unwanted vision of her with his child, the way he could relax with her and why he couldn’t stop staring at her face.
Some crazy, romantic part of himself wanted a future with her.
But it was all for nothing.
Not only did he have a really crappy upbringing that meant he had no idea what a real family looked like, no idea how to be a husband or a father, but there was also the matter of why Alex Sancho hated him.
If that wasn’t enough to make him all wrong for her, he had a one-track mind. His company. Even if she found him as attractive and interesting as he found her, she should run like the wind away from him.
Once she got to know him, she probably would.
He stepped back, sliding his hands down her arms until he could take her hands. “I’m suddenly very, very tired. Let’s go back to the table.”
Her eyes sought his as her lush mouth, her perfect, oh-so-kissable mouth twisted in confusion. “We aren’t going to mingle?”
He once again used pragmatism to overcome her questions.
“I might mingle later. I’m not sure. Jason just wanted me to put in an appearance. I think we’ve done more than that.”
Before she could say anything, Dean caught her hand and began to maneuver through the crowd, toward their table, pulling her with him. Regret wobbled through him, but he wondered why. This was his life. And he was essentially happy with it. He was a rich man, doing work he loved. He wouldn’t feel bad that he was attracted to a woman he couldn’t have. He had many, many things to be grateful for.
They didn’t quite get to their seats before Winslow and Julia Osmond, who owned one of the biggest brokerage houses in New York, ambled up to him.
“I see your stock is hanging tough.”
“Thanks to you,” Dean agreed. He’d had a good chat with Winslow that afternoon. Even though he’d created an informal “no talking about business” rule for this party, this was a chance to reinforce what he’d said.
Kristen tapped his arm. “I thought we agreed no shoptalk tonight.”
The gesture was sweet, familiar, and longing whispered through Dean again. Longing for a life, a relationship, things
he’d never wanted before. It was confusing. Frustrating. Ridiculous.
Winslow Osmond said, “I got the same lecture.” He smiled at Kristen. “Where did you two meet?”
“Paris.”
Julia Osmond said, “Oh, how romantic.”
Kristen laughed. “Somewhat romantic. We actually find ourselves on opposite ends of a business thing. I work for Princess Eva Latvia of Grennady.”
Julia caught her arm. “Oh, darling! Didn’t she just marry that gorgeous prince from Xaviera?”
“Yes. Alexandros Sancho. They’re in Xaviera right now at the end of a vacation celebrating American Thanksgiving. Alex’s brother Dom is married to an American and his dad married Princess Ginny’s mom, Rose.”
Winslow laughed. “Now, that’s going to be a complicated family tree.” He faced Dean. “What business does your company have with Grennady?”
Dean’s gaze slowly meandered to Kristen, then back to Winslow. When in doubt, go with the truth. If he and Kristen were alone, that would be lesson five.
“Kristen would like me to consider relocating my company there. Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to even consider it.”
“Why not?”
Dean sort of laughed. “We are in a bit of a hurry to get that series of games ironed out. As I told you in our phone call today, I will be beta testing the new version by mid-January. I’m not going to disrupt people who are already stalled.”
Winslow glanced at his glass of whiskey, then back at Dean. “You’ve never considered that a change of scenery might do them good?”
When Dean frowned, Winslow said, “Maybe their creativity would return if you sent them to a country that’s known for fresh air and fresh snow. Somewhere they can get outside and do something physical that will revitalize them. Grennady sounds like the perfect choice to me.”
“Where are your offices?” Julia asked.
“Manhattan,” Winslow answered for Dean. “His employees fight to get into the city, then they’re in a high pressure situation trying to fix or finish a product that’s obviously in trouble, then they fight to get back home.” He caught Dean’s gaze. “No rest for these guys and gals.”
Dean recognized a criticism when he got one, but he smiled at Winslow. “That’s certainly an interesting observation.”
“That’s not an observation. It’s a fact.” Winslow clasped Dean’s shoulder. “You know what? A few of my associates and I are having lunch tomorrow. It’s our little Christmas celebration. I’d love to have you and Kristen join us.”
“Oh, well...” Dean fumbled for an excuse, but his mind went blank. He couldn’t ask Kristen to stay another day, could he?
“Oh, come on. You want to miss the chance to talk to CEOs for some of the biggest companies in the city?” Winslow winked at Kristen. “If nothing else, you should want to show Kristen off.”
Kristen laughed. “It sounds fun.”
Considering Kristen’s response approval of a sort and not wanting to miss the opportunity, Dean said, “Have your staff send me the restaurant name and time.”
Osmond slapped him on the back. “You bet.”
As he and his wife walked away, Dean turned to Kristen. “If you only answered that way to be polite, I can show up alone. It’s not a big deal.”
But Kristen glanced behind her, watching Winslow and his wife mingle into the crowd. “He’s pretty influential?”
“He is the definition of influential. If you look in the dictionary, his picture would be beside the word influential.”
“Then we should go.”
“Seriously? You don’t mind staying in New York another day?”
She laughed lightly. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. It’s fine.” She frowned. “Except.” She looked up and into his eyes again. “Will I be able to wear the black pants and white blouse I flew over in?”
Regret surged through him that he’d put her in an uncomfortable position. Luckily, he could fix it. “We’ll get you new clothes.”
“Stella?”
“No, this time I’ll take you. We’ll have breakfast, then go back to the boutique where you got this gown.”
“Okay.”
She was such a good sport that he almost felt guilty taking advantage of her. Except he needed her. And she was a good sport. “I swear tomorrow at three you’ll be on your way to the airport, and in the air headed for Grennady by five.”
But the assurance that he’d get her home the next day didn’t stop the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Their deal wasn’t balanced now, and he hated owing someone.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT MORNING, Kristen woke, showered and dressed in her simple white blouse and black pants. She’d carefully hung them the day before so they weren’t wrinkled, but this was day two of wearing the same clothes, and she had to wear these home. She might have to rinse out her blouse when she returned.
As she stepped into the sitting room of her suite, her hotel phone rang.
Confused, she picked it up and cautiously said, “Hello?”
“It’s Dean. I’m in the hotel dining room. I’ve ordered coffee. Come down when you’re ready.”
The sound of his voice made her heart light, but she squelched the silly feeling that had started the night before by reminding herself that she’d fallen desperately in love with Brad, a man who had also used her. She’d ended up hurt and disillusioned. Just because Dean was coming right out and telling her he was using her, it only made him marginally better than Brad. Or maybe not better. More like honest. Especially since the way he’d pulled away from her on the dance floor had all but proven she was safe with him. A man who didn’t want to touch her didn’t want to get involved with her.
And she shouldn’t want to get involved with anybody, either. Especially not such a difficult man. She was about to embark on the journey of a lifetime. Beginning an international charity, something with the potential to change the world, would be all-consuming. She didn’t have time for a romance until her schools were off the ground.
She took the elevator to the lobby, found the restaurant and walked to the table where Dean sat. He rose and her stomach fell to the floor.
Wearing jeans and a comfortable olive green sweater, he barely resembled the angry man she’d met the morning before in Paris. He looked young, approachable. And if the smile on his face was any indicator, he was very happy to see her.
The joyful feeling bubbled up in her again, the sense that there was nowhere she’d rather be than with him. Because it was true. He was so handsome in that sweater and jeans. And he looked happy...
How was she supposed to resist that?
He pulled out her chair. “I hope you slept well.”
“Since I’d napped all yesterday afternoon, I was glad to have had a few glasses of champagne to make me drowsy.”
A waiter walked over and poured Kristen a cup of coffee from the carafe already on the table.
Dean said, “I’ll have the bacon and eggs breakfast.” He faced her with another smile. “Kristen?”
She could barely say, “I’ll have the same.” Her heart did a crazy dance in her chest every time he smiled at her. She tried reminding herself of Brad, but it didn’t help. With Dean’s face a study in happiness and her attraction to him tapping on her shoulder, the giddy feeling rolling through her wouldn’t let anything negative in.
As the waiter walked away, happy Dean faced her again. “I realized last night that your attending another event with me warrants another agreement.” He pulled a document from beside his plate. “This is a second agreement that takes the place of the one we signed yesterday. Instead of a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of computers, it’s now two hundred thousand.”
Her eyes bulged. “Two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of comput
ers?”
As she took the agreement from his hands, she realized this was why he was so happy. He wasn’t smiling because of her. He wasn’t happy to see her. He was happy that their deal wasn’t lopsided. By giving her more computers, he was no longer accepting a favor. They were even.
All the crazy feelings rumbling around inside her stopped instantly.
She glanced up at him. “You don’t like owing people, do you?”
His head tilted. “Because I’m continuing our arrangement?”
“Because you won’t let me do you a favor.”
He shrugged. “This relates more to the ‘don’t mix business with pleasure’ rule.”
“Nope. I think we’ve entered new rule territory. You don’t like anyone doing anything for you.”
He fiddled with his linen napkin. “Good business people keep things balanced. The revised agreement is simply a way to do that.”
“Sure it is.” She paused for a moment as the waiter brought their bacon and eggs, then said, “And what about the clothes you’re buying me?” She caught his gaze. “And the bracelet you didn’t take back last night. If you want everything even and balanced, then I’m going to have to pay you for the clothes. And God only knows what I’ll owe you for the bracelet.”
He shook his head. “The clothes and bracelet are the cost of doing business.”
She scrunched her face. “What cost of doing business?”
“You are here at my request. You cannot wear the same clothes every day. Hence, it’s my responsibility to clothe you.”
“You are a piece of work.”
He frowned. “Because I like to keep things balanced?”
“Whatever you call it. It’s kind of weird. And don’t think I’m not noticing that you always have to win arguments.”
“I win because I’m right.”
She picked up her fork and began eating, deciding she wasn’t even going to try to debate that. But after the first delectable bite of toast, for some odd reason or another she pictured him as a child, a genius in an elementary school filled with ordinary kids, and she laughed.
