Geena caught her breath. What was wrong with her? The man was so not her type. He was clean shaven and wore his black hair razored short on the sides. Judging by the flawless way it hugged his impressive physique, his suit was expensive, but far too conservative. And his plain tie was just as safe and boring. Not a peep of a tattoo, or even an ear piercing. Yeah, he was as straight-edged as Justin, and she sure as hell wouldn’t make the mistake of being attracted to someone like that again.
The MC looked a little flustered at the unmistakably hostile reaction from the front tables, only muted by the polite atmosphere of the evening. “Of course, Damien is no stranger to controversy. The lucky winner of this auction can be assured, lunch with him will be anything but dull.”
More murmuring. What could he have done to upset so many people?
The MC rushed on with his introduction. “Courtney Construction has recently been valued at over a billion dollars. Yes, ladies, I did say a billion. Damien started with nothing and built his fabulously successful business from the ground up. So what will you bid to have lunch with the man with the Midas Touch?”
Geena froze. He’d built a billion-dollar business from nothing? Maybe he’d have some ideas about how she could turn her store around. He’d have to have a good feel for how to make a profit, right?
Perhaps if she got a chance to talk to him, he could help her improve her business skills so she never got herself into this kind of mess again.
“Do I see a starting bid?”
A woman with platinum-white hair raised her hand. “Eight hundred dollars.”
“One thousand,” came at once from the other side of the room. Seemed that whatever he’d done, the businessman was still in demand as a lunch date.
Geena gulped. She didn’t want lunch, but once she had his attention, perhaps she could interest Damien Courtney in a different kind of deal. A crazy idea was forming in her mind, nutty enough that it flicked even her insanity scale into the red. But she was desperate and if she did nothing, she’d go bankrupt. This was better than doing nothing. Wasn’t it?
She sat frozen, her stomach churning and her heart pounding as the bidding rose. It stopped at four thousand dollars.
“Any more bids?” asked the auctioneer.
The platinum-haired woman spoke up. “Five thousand dollars.”
A murmur ran around the room and Geena shifted nervously on her stool. Five thousand dollars? No, it was far too much.
“Going once,” said the MC.
Last chance. Do I go for it? Or will I be throwing the last of my money away?
“Going twice.”
Geena closed her eyes for a moment, sucked in a deep breath, then stuck up one trembling hand. “Five thousand… and ten dollars.”
The platinum-haired woman laughed. “Five thousand five hundred dollars,” she called.
Geena swallowed. “Five thousand five hundred and ten dollars.” She caught the woman’s eye, clasped her hands together in a gesture of prayer and mouthed, ‘Please’.
The woman frowned. She hesitated a moment, then waved her hand at the MC to indicate she was out of the race.
The MC pointed his gavel at Geena. The spotlight swung over to focus on her, and she blinked in the sudden bright light.
“Sold, for five thousand five hundred and ten dollars to the woman with pink hair sitting at the bar,” he announced.
Geena turned away from the light, her head swimming. She didn’t feel jubilant at winning, but like she might throw up. She’d done plenty of impulsive things in her life but never anything like this. This wasn’t even remotely close to skinny dipping in a public fountain or painting her body green for St Patrick’s Day. This was all her money gone in a split second of total craziness. And she still had to convince Damien Courtney that her idea was a good one, or she’d just thrown it away for nothing.
Oh shit. Billy’s wages were due on Friday. Her stomach heaved and she swallowed down bile. Could she still scrape together enough money to pay him? Would she have to let her only employee go? She groaned, fighting a sudden urge to jump up and run for the door. What the hell had she been thinking?
The bartender gave her a nod. “Well done,” he said. “Although I’m not sure I would have paid to have lunch with the man who tore down the Kingston Boarding House.”
She felt the blood drain from her face and clutched at the edge of the bar for support. Damien Courtney was that guy? Geena had protested against him, even thrown herself in front of the man’s bulldozer. If she’d realized who he was, there was no way she’d have bid.
Her gaze flicked to the door, but it was further away than she’d remembered, and she was wearing heels she couldn’t run in.
There’s nothing I can do about it now. And I don’t have to like the selfish jerk, I just have to convince him to save my store.
The barman was waiting for her to reply, but she had to clear her throat twice to make any sound come out. “May I have that bourbon now?” she croaked.
2
The MC said the woman who’d bought Damien had pink hair? When his assistant started across the room to find the woman, Damien told her to stay put, that he wanted to check her out for himself. With ticket prices for the charity event so high, an avant-garde hairdo was the last thing he’d expect.
How had he let his PR consultant talk him into taking part in a damn charity auction? He was supposed to be improving his terrible public image, but all tonight had done was prove how awful his reputation really was. Which meant he’d probably have to subject himself to more excruciating events like this one to have any chance of being allowed to build his new entertainment complex – a deal that would double his net worth.
Damien got close to the bar and spotted a shock of shoulder-length pink hair contrasted against a vivid blue dress. The woman was sitting with her back to him, slugging back a glass of something that looked highly alcoholic. She had a gorgeous figure, and the dress hugged it nicely. Hopefully when she turned around, her looks would live up to her promise and lunch might not turn out to be such an ordeal.
He stopped behind her. “Hello, Ms…?”
She turned and he blinked, startled. Her blue dress clashed with her pink hair, and her eyes were as vivid a green as he’d ever seen. But somehow the whole colorful effect wasn’t as awful as it should have been. Maybe because she was pretty enough to pull it off, despite the way her lips were pulled into a tight line. Her hair reminded him of cotton candy, although her expression was far from sweet.
Instead of giving him her name, she motioned to the stool next to her. “Take a seat, Mr. Courtney.” Her tone wasn’t friendly. If she wasn’t pleased to see him, why did she bid so much to have lunch with him? Could she be a journalist wanting to badger him? The public must surely be getting sick of what seemed like an endless series of outraged stories by now.
“Call me Damien.”
Her hard gaze didn’t soften as he sat down. “When I bid on you, I hadn’t realized you were the one who tore down the Kingston Boarding House.”
Damien’s jaw clenched. Great. She was probably one of the loonies who’d marched around with placards, harassing his demolition crew. He still couldn’t believe that one crazy woman had actually thrown herself in front of the bulldozers. It was pure luck she hadn’t been killed.
“Here’s my card.” He held it out. “Call the number and my assistant will book you in for lunch.”
“I don’t want to have a meal with you.” She dropped his card into her handbag without looking at it. “I need you to tell me how to save my business.”
“You want my advice?” Now Cotton Candy was starting to make sense. Damien was no business consultant, but if he ever did charge for his expertise, it would come at a far higher price than she’d just paid. For top-quality advice, she’d gotten a bargain. “Fine. You can tell me your problem while we eat.”
She shook her head. “I need you to come to my store and do it properly. For five thousand five hundred and ten doll
ars, I want more than a few offhand suggestions.”
He barked out a laugh. She had some nerve, he’d give her that. “You get lunch. Nothing more is on offer.”
“You haven’t heard the whole proposal yet.” She picked up her phone from the bar and tapped it. “I was curious about why you’re here, seeing as when you tore that building down you obviously didn’t care what anyone thought. So I looked you up. You’ve put in an application for a big building project, right? And a lot of people are saying you’re not the right person for the council to make a deal with.”
“So?”
“So maybe you want this deal bad enough that you’re trying to soften your image. Make people ease up on you.” Her green eyes sharpened as though she were putting the pieces together while she spoke. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Doing a charity auction, when it’s obvious you hated every minute on stage.”
He had to hand it to her, she’d identified his problem pretty damn fast. But he didn’t just want the deal. Building the entertainment center had become an obsession. He inclined his head and she went on.
“My sister owns the Liaison blog and wrote the stories about being Max Oberon’s dominatrix for a week. You saw that, I assume? It was fairly huge.”
“I saw it.”
“She could do the same thing for you. Write an article about how you’re helping out a business in King’s Cross, only a few blocks from the building you tore down. Explain how your good deeds cancel out the bad, talk about what a great guy you are. All you have to do is spend some time with me, showing me how to make my business successful. In return, you get an image overhaul.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Face it, you could do with all the help you can get.”
“What kind of business do you have?” He couldn’t resist getting his own dig in. “If it’s a hair salon, I’ve already got an idea why it might be failing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not interested?” She slid off her stool and took a step towards the door. “Your loss.”
He was fairly sure she was bluffing about leaving, but as she stepped close, he breathed in an astonishingly sweet perfume. It flashed him back to choosing treats in the candy store when he was a boy. Was her hair edible? She smelled so good he wanted to lick her. He caught her arm. For a moment it felt as though everything else disappeared and the world was entirely made up of the warm smoothness of her skin.
She jerked her arm from his grasp and Damien blinked, shaking off the strange sensation.
“Sit down,” he said, frowning. “Tell me what the problem is.”
She returned to her stool quickly enough to confirm that she was eager to make a deal, but trying not to show it. “My store isn’t making enough money, and I owe taxes I can’t pay.”
“A single store? Not a chain or a franchise operation?”
“Just one little store in King’s Cross. Won’t take long to straighten out.”
“What do you sell?”
“Adult toys and accessories.”
“A sex shop?” Was she serious? Her level gaze said she was, but she didn’t look like a sex shop owner. Not that he’d know what one looked like. He shook his head. “Forget it.”
“Let me clarify. It’s a tasteful, non-sleazy adult store that caters to both male and female clientele.”
“I don’t care if you sell nipple clamps to nuns. The last thing I need is any more scandal.”
“Actually, we have both nipple clamps and nun costumes — I’d be happy to sell you both. And you’re wrong. Telling readers what kind of store you’re helping is exactly what’s going to draw them in. You read my sister’s stories about Max? You were interested because of the dominatrix angle, right? The stories went viral because people thought they were going to be juicy. But she ended up helping Max’s image, not hurting him.”
She was right. He normally didn’t bother with entertainment news, and idle curiosity about a movie star getting spanked by a woman he’d thought was a dominatrix was the only reason he’d bothered to read one of the stories. But there hadn’t been any actual spanking. In fact, every line had been filled with glowing praise for Max Oberon, and Damien was pretty sure the stories had helped propel him to super stardom. They certainly hadn’t hurt his reputation.
“You’re offering to do the same thing for me?”
“Exactly.” She stuck out her hand to shake his. “So we have a deal?”
He let his gaze drift over her while he considered it. After the intricacies of the large companies he was used to dealing with, telling her how to increase profits in a single store should be easy. Besides, she intrigued him. He’d never have believed he’d be attracted to someone with cotton candy hair and… was that a tattoo of a mermaid peeking out of her sleeve? Definitely not his type, but for some reason he couldn’t stop his gaze from settling on her plump, glossy lips. Would she taste as sweet as she smelled?
What did he have to lose? A short appointment wouldn’t hurt, and it might even be interesting.
“Fine. My assistant will arrange a meeting at your store. I’ll have her book in two hours.”
“Not enough. I need two or three days.”
He snorted. “Do you have any idea how much my time is worth?”
“How much is your reputation worth? Most people would kill for a Liasion article. If we do it right, you’ll get the kind of publicity even your money couldn’t buy.”
He let out a grunt of derision, but there was some truth in what she said. When he was preparing his application to build the entertainment center, the first thing his PR agency did was to run a slick, expensive campaign trying to change his image. It had backfired horribly, with outraged articles spouting nonsense about good will not being for sale. And the more money he threw at it, the more vicious the mainstream media had become. Apparently reputable news agencies didn’t accept large donations in exchange for good press. Not many of them, anyway.
He held out his hand. “I’ll give you four hours.”
“Eight hours.” She ignored his hand, her chin tilted defiantly. “If my sister’s going to write about you, she’ll need to collect enough material. Any less than a day won’t give her enough time to get to know you.”
He matched her direct gaze as he considered it. If the publicity she was promising meant the council would accept his tender for the building project, he stood to make a fortune. A day was a small price to pay. “Eight hours,” he agreed. “And I’ll be expecting your article to rank much higher than those damn news stories about the boarding house.”
She grabbed his still-extended hand and shook it, making no effort to restrain a wide grin. “Can you come in Monday?”
“I should hire you to negotiate deals for me,” he said, only half jokingly. “And I’ll tell you for free that your problem isn’t a lack of nerve.”
“I’m desperate, and if you don’t come right away, I might not have a store to save. I open at ten on Monday, so can you start then, while it’s still quiet?”
Rosalind wouldn’t be happy. But Damien had been planning to fly to Indonesia this week to look at a construction opportunity, until the deal had fallen through. Rosalind had filled up his available time, but she should be able to postpone those appointments easily enough.
“I’ll have my assistant check my schedule and call you. Do you have a business card?”
She dived into her handbag and found one.
He examined it. “The Gee Spot?”
“Geena Dennis, at your service.”
“Expect a phone call to confirm our arrangement.” He stood, but she grabbed his arm.
“Wait. I need one more thing.” She held up her phone. “Can I get a selfie with you? It’s for my sister’s bachelorette party.”
Without waiting for an answer, she moved so her shoulder was pressed against his arm. She was a few inches shorter than him, and her pink hair was just below nose level. The candy-store scent got stronger. Perhaps it was the pink dye that smelled so good.
Damien slipped one hand around her waist. Nice curves.
She lifted her phone. “Ready? Now kiss me.”
What? She didn’t sound like she was joking. Her face was tilted up in invitation, and her full lips were slightly parted, her eyes darting from him to her phone, making sure they’d be in shot. A kiss for the camera. Well, why not?
He covered her mouth with his. Her lips were full and exquisitely soft. Her curves pressed against him and her delicious aroma filled his senses. Was there sugar on her lips? She tasted better than he could have imagined, and a jolt of pure desire shot through him. Her warmth felt like a drug pulsing through his system, sweeping him away in a rush of sensation. Moving one hand to the base of her neck, he caressed the sensitive skin below her soft hair. His other hand went to the small of her back, pressing her closer. Her body felt incredible. If they weren’t in a public place, he’d—
Shit. What was he doing? They were in a crowded room and the last thing he needed was for everyone to notice he had his tongue down a stranger’s throat.
He released her and she took a shaky step backward, her eyes huge. Her hand went up to touch her bottom lip, as though to check it hadn’t melted away. What had just happened? His body was on fire and he was so aroused he could barely walk.
He turned away so she wouldn’t see the effect she’d had on a certain part of his body. Like she wouldn’t have felt how hard I am when she pressed against me.
He straightened his suit. “I’ll see you Monday,” he said roughly.
One thing for sure, it would be an interesting day.
3
Damien sat on the couch by the big window in his living room that overlooked the harbor and checked the time. Nine o’clock Monday morning. His trainer had given him a harder-than-usual workout, and he’d devoured breakfast. Usually his days were tightly scheduled and by now he’d be in some meeting or other. Not today. Rosalind had cleared all his appointments, and he wasn’t due at The Gee Spot until ten. In the meantime, he could put his feet up on the coffee table and make some calls.
The Rich List Series: Contemporary Romance Box Set (Millionaire, Billionaire, CEO) Page 20
