Tycoon For Auction (HQR Silhouette Desire)

by Katherine Garbera

  Angelica looked up as he approached and smiled at him. She’d changed a lot since her second marriage last year. She was happier and more willing to take a chance. Their friendship had started with her first marriage to Rand’s best friend, Roger. He and Roger had been roommates at military school and then in college. They had been closer than brothers.

  Rand approached the table and made small talk until the right moment presented itself. He wanted a few minutes alone with Angelica.

  “Want to dance?” he asked her, needing to talk to her without her husband around. Also, he needed to erase the memory of Corrine Martin in his arms.

  “I don’t know. Your technique must be off. I saw Corrine leave you earlier.”

  Great. He’d forgotten they were in a virtual fishbowl at these events. Usually he liked the attention and the feel of eyes on him. But when he’d held Corrine in his arms he’d forgotten all about being on display and had immersed himself in the sensations she elicited in him.

  What was it with these women tonight? “The answer I’m looking for is yes or no.”

  She sighed. He knew she’d probe into what had happened, and he should probably leave her sitting at the table with her husband. But he needed to talk to his best friend and congratulate her on the pregnancy she’d just announced. He wanted to warn her about life and how one had to be cautious when you got close to having it all.

  He’d have to be on his guard around Angelica. Watch over her at work and make sure that she stayed safe for Paul and the baby. He owed Roger that much—after all, Roger had saved his life. He felt a little more pressure tightening the back of his neck.

  “Yes. I think they’re playing our song,” she said.

  The band had begun to play “I’ve Got a Crush on You.” It was the song they’d danced to at her first wedding so long ago. And over the years that song had helped them survive. Rand had held Angelica while she cried to that song on the anniversary of her first wedding.

  There’d never been anything sexual between them; instead, she’d become like a sister to him. Though his own sisters would describe him as cold, he and Angelica had a warm relationship. Rand knew that was because of his debt to Roger.

  Roger had guarded Rand’s secret addiction and pulled him back from the edge. He owed Roger at first. Then he’d come to know and care for Angelica.

  Rand knew a moment’s fear for Paul and Angelica. It seemed as if they had too much. Rand had a healthy respect for the balance of the universe and the fact that you couldn’t have it all. He prayed that Paul and Angelica would be the exception to that rule.

  “Congratulations on your pregnancy,” he said as they danced around the floor. They’d been partners in Corporate Spouses for more than ten years and friends even longer. Things were getting back to normal now. The tension at the back of his neck eased.

  “Thank you. I’m a little nervous about it.”

  Her confession robbed him of the advice he’d been about to give. He couldn’t tell her that fate never let anyone have it all. Because Angelica already knew that.

  “I’ll make sure you have everything you need, kiddo,” he said.

  “Oh, Rand. Thanks, but I think that’s Paul’s job now.”

  He swallowed, realizing it was true. The one woman he’d allowed himself to care about belonged to someone else now. That’s good, he thought. Really, it is.

  He tried to think of something else to say when he noticed one of the Tarron vice presidents, Mark something, escorting Corrine onto the dance floor. He didn’t like how low the guy’s hands were on Corrine’s hips.

  He maneuvered himself closer to the couple. Corrine’s gaze met his and she seemed to want something from him. He looked closer at Mark and realized the man was drunk. Rand knew better than anyone how too many drinks could change the world around a man.

  “Kiddo, you feel like using your power as the CEO’s wife?” he asked Angelica.

  “How?”

  “I’m going to cut in and rescue Corrine from a man who’s had one too many.”

  “I get to dance with a drunk. Boy, Rand, you sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

  “As you just pointed out, that’s not my job anymore.”

  “You’re right. Who is it?”

  “Mark something, I think.” He turned them so Angelica could see the man.

  “Mark Jameson. His wife left him on New Year’s Day—what with it being Valentine’s Day—he hasn’t been the same since then.”

  “Can you handle him?”

  “No problem.”

  Rand spun them neatly into Mark and Corrine’s path and tapped the other man on his shoulder. “May I?”

  Mark’s eyes were blurry and he looked a little confused. Angelica stepped into his arms as Rand tugged Corrine free. He heard Angelica use her most soothing voice as she took the lead in the dance and moved Mark to the edge of the dance floor.

  “Thanks. I owe you one,” Corrine said.

  “I think I’ll collect now,” he said, even though he knew he should be escorting her off the dance floor and then collecting his keys from the valet and heading home.

  “What do you want?”

  That was a loaded question. “Don’t walk away again.”

  She glanced up, obviously startled. “Ego problems?”

  “Do you think I’m that shallow?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  He laughed. There was a part of him that was shallow, and he did his best to make sure that was the only thing people saw.

  “Maybe I just wanted to hold you for the three minutes or so that the song lasts.”

  “Don’t say things like that.”

  “It’s the truth.” God, he wished it weren’t, but his body had already decided that there was no way Corrine was going to be a hands-off client. She called to parts of him that he’d put away a long time ago. Nothing was going to be normal until he’d mussed up her cool exterior. Until he had her blond hair spread out on his pillow and was buried deep in her sweet body with her legs and arms wrapped around him.

  “We have a working relationship, Rand. It can’t be anything else.”

  “I’m aware of that,” he said. He’d been working with Corrine on the new training module he and Corrine were developing at Tarron.

  “Why’d you bid on me tonight?” he asked. It was out of character for the woman he knew her to be. She’d given not only him but most of her co-workers the cold shoulder. She was cordial and polite, but she kept a distance between herself and others. The only person he knew who’d gotten past her barrier was Angelica. But then, Angelica had a way with people.

  “You looked lonely up there.”

  He stopped dancing and glanced down at her. This was the second time she’d sassed him tonight. “Are you saying pity motivated you?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “Darling, I seem to remember a brisk bidding before you finally won me.”

  “Cling to that memory,” she said with a laugh.

  He joined her, even though she was having fun at his expense. There was something warm and almost adorable in her eyes that made him want to protect her. Much the same as he’d wanted to earlier when he’d realized she was trapped on the dance floor. But he’d never been anyone’s protector except Angelica’s. And she’d been safe because Rand couldn’t really fall in love with her. And he’d been doing it to pay back a debt. Business was the one thing he’d always been good at.

  He was a loner by nature and he didn’t want to get too involved with Corrine. He let his arms drop, and the music ended a second later. There was confusion in her eyes. He knew he had to get away before he gave in to the temptation to take everything she had to offer. Because the woman he’d just held had a softness that she didn’t usually let the world see.

  And that softness called to everything masculine in him. Made his chest swell and his muscles flex. It made him want to defend and protect her from everyone except himself. And Rand Pearson was no woman’s hero.

&nbs
p; He’d learned that the hard way.

  He pivoted to leave.

  “Is this payback?” she asked.

  He stopped and took her elbow to escort her off the dance floor. He’d never forgotten his manners before. He prided himself on always being a gentleman. Something his parents had instilled in him since he’d first known the difference between boys and girls.

  He stopped at the edge of the dance floor and turned to thank her for the dance. But those gray eyes of hers made the words die unsaid.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  He walked away from her, knowing that he was going to need more than the words “never let the client get personal” help him this time. Because there was something about Corrine Martin that made him want to forget rules and lessons learned in life. And he was old enough to know better.

  Two

  Corrine neatly managed to avoid spending time with Rand until her first official date. She’d even corresponded with him through e-mail instead of calling him. His last e-mail had been brief to the point of seeming curt, but that didn’t bother her. She regretted the impulse that had led her to bid on him and wished that she had some way to go back in time and change things. Although she knew that time travel didn’t exist, she wished she could go further back than Rand Pearson’s appearance in her life and make some huge alterations.

  Today was a sunny Saturday in March, and Paul Sterling, Tarron’s CEO, was having his annual staff party on his yacht moored in West Palm Beach. It was a two-hour drive from Orlando and Rand was picking her up.

  She’d suggested meeting him there, but he’d sent back a reply saying only that he’d pick her up at ten. He pulled up at five till, and as he climbed out of his car and came toward her front door she wished again she’d never bid on him. Her pulse hammered, and everything feminine in her came to life.

  She didn’t have time for this. She’d wanted to have an escort to social functions because she always seemed to be the only one alone. And it made her stand out. She hated to have attention drawn to her. She liked blending in with the background.

  She knew there was no way she was going to survive the two-hour drive down the coast unless she had a distraction. The doorbell rang and she glanced frantically around her neat house. Spotting her laptop in the corner she grabbed it and her leather carryall and headed for the door. Work had been her salvation since she was fourteen. She realized early that at work it didn’t matter where you came from, only how well you did the job.

  She shoved her Ann Taylor sunglasses up her nose and opened the door. The classic designer appealed to Corrine. Rand was leaning negligently against the porch railing, staring out at the street. She lived on Kaley, in one of Orlando’s older sections. Her home had been built in the fifties and required lots of care, but she loved it.

  “Nice neighborhood,” he said, glancing up and down the street, which wasn’t too busy this Saturday morning.

  “Thanks. Ready to go?” she asked, not wanting to encourage him to be nice to her. The other night had shown her that he’d slipped between her defenses and that was something she refused to let happen again.

  “What, no tour?”

  “Not today. I don’t want to be late.”

  “We won’t be. We’ve got five minutes to spare.”

  “Traffic could be heavy. I don’t share your confidence.”

  “Want to bet on it?” he asked.

  She knew from Angelica that Rand would bet on anything. And he usually won. She’d never gambled in her entire life. Not even on the twice-weekly Florida lottery. She preferred the safety of investing her money over the risk of losing a dollar to a chance of becoming a millionaire. “No.”

  “Scared?” His eyebrow rose behind his sunglasses.

  “Of a bet with you? I don’t think so.”

  “Then, why not?”

  There was only way to beat this man, she thought. And that was with wit, because he was too smart and confident for his own good. “You don’t really have anything I want.”

  He pulled his glasses down to the tip of his nose and regarded her over the top of the lenses. “Really?”

  “Really,” she said.

  “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

  She pushed her glasses back on her head and gave him her haughtiest stare. The one that made people back off. “Will your swelled head fit in the car?”

  “No problem. The car is a convertible. I’ll put the top down if need be.”

  She laughed and closed her door, locking it behind her.

  “Why are you bringing your computer?” he asked.

  “I have some work I need to do. I hate to waste the time since you’re driving.”

  “You can’t take one day off?” he asked.

  “Sure I can. I just don’t want to.”

  “Don’t you ever have any fun?” he asked, opening her door for her.

  “I like working.”

  She knew it was an old-fashioned gesture, and yet she liked it. He probably did it without thinking, but it made her feel good. She dropped her bags on the floor and smoothed the skirt of her sundress under her as she slid into the car. She felt the heat of his gaze on her legs as the hem slid up on her thighs.

  Was he interested in her as a woman? Since he’d kept his distance after their dance she figured his attraction to her had been posturing since she’d been the one in the position of power.

  He slammed the door and walked around in front of the car. He wore khaki shorts and a golf shirt and looked like an advertisement for easy living. She pulled her sunglasses back into place, then smoothed her hair along her head, searching for any strand that might have escaped the ponytail she’d pulled it into this morning. Neat and tidy, she thought.

  “I like my job, too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t take time to enjoy life.”

  “I’m not an unhappy person, Rand. And you’re working today.”

  “I know.”

  “So why shouldn’t I?”

  “Never mind.”

  She pulled her laptop from its case and powered it up. Rand fastened his seat belt and neatly backed out of her driveway. The traffic was heavy, but he wove through it effortlessly. She pulled up the company memo template and pretended to be composing the memo in her head, but all she could concentrate on was Rand.

  His muscles flexed each time he shifted the car. She could practically smell the testosterone as he drove. And she wondered if she’d really survive if he decided to take her words as a challenge.

  Because without even trying to, he was engaging her senses and distracting her from her work. She knew then that she’d never claim the other two dates she’d purchased from his company because there was no way she was going to be this close to him again after today.

  Rand knew it shouldn’t matter that she was working as they drove down to West Palm Beach. Ivanna Marckey, the last client he’d provided a corporate escort for, had spent all the time to and from engagements on the phone or reading e-mail on her PDA. But for some reason it bothered him when Corrine did the same.

  That wasn’t true. Not only did her actions disturb him—she did. From the tips of her hot-pink toes to her sleek blond ponytail. She seemed aloof and he wanted to bring her down to his level. He wanted to see her hot and mussed. He lowered the windows so the air circulated around them, tugging the long blond strands from her neat coiffure.

  She glanced over at him. He knew he should have asked before he lowered the windows. He’d been raised with more manners than most, and this was one of the reasons why he’d left Chicago many years ago. He sometimes reacted without thinking. Something that Pearsons simply didn’t do. Especially ones who seemed to live a charmed life.

  “Do you mind?” he asked at last.

  She shrugged. “I guess not. I wish I’d brought a scarf.”

  She turned back to her computer and started typing again. Obviously not too concerned with the wind. Or too ruffled by it.

  “We’ll stop before we get to the yacht club
so you can fix your hair,” he said, trying to make up for his behavior.

  “Okay,” she said. Her pleasantness made him feel like a bully on the playground.

  He wanted to push harder to see what it would take to get a reaction out of her. A few more miles passed, and when they got on I-95 heading south he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. It just left his mind free to wander and he’d never been that comfortable with himself. Usually he blared the radio on a heavy-metal station, but today there was an interesting distraction right next to him.

  Her sundress was demure on the outside, but it was encasing a body that was his version of heaven. Long, slim limbs and generous curves above and below the waist. In his mind’s eye he could still see her white thigh from when she’d gotten into the car.

  He imagined his hand sliding up that leg. He knew it would be as smooth as silk. He’d touched her arms and shoulders the night they’d danced together and his fingers still remembered her texture. The roughness of his callused hands on her soft skin. He wanted to touch her again. Now.

  Sexual tension pumped through his body, making him heavy. Dammit, he needed a diversion. Too bad she was engrossed in her job.

  Which he knew shouldn’t bother him, but it did. Everything male in him wanted to rise to the indirect challenge she issued by ignoring him. And that was the one thing he’d never been able to resist. So he fiddled with the radio dial until he found a classic-rock station.

  Instead of something hard and raunchy, the sensuous sounds of Dave Matthews and his band singing one of their ballads. The soft, emotional lyrics didn’t help his situation as he felt the beast in him rising to the surface.

  He tightened his hands on the wheel. She hadn’t even glanced at him when the music blared out of the speakers. Unable to help himself, he reached over and removed the elastic holding her hair back. She didn’t move to stop him, only glanced toward him.

  “Problem?”

  “You’re going to have to take it out later, anyway,” he said. Which had to be the lamest excuse in history. But there was no way he was going to tell her more.