Billionaire's Contract Engagement(7)

"I chose good ole American," he said as he gestured toward a nearby table. "I hope that was all right."

"Of course."

He held out his arm for her to precede him to the table at the end of  the row. She sat, grateful to be off her feet, and placed her briefcase  beside her.

He took his seat across from her and motioned for the waiter.

"Would you like wine?" Evan asked Celia when the waiter approached.

"Whatever you're having is fine."

Evan relayed his request and then looked over at Celia. "I asked you to  lunch because I'm afraid something has come up and we won't be able to  make our lunch date on Friday."

She nodded then reached down for her briefcase. "That's all right. I brought along the information I wanted to present-"

He reached over and circled her wrist with his fingers. "That isn't why I invited you to lunch."

She blinked and let go of her briefcase.

"I'd still like to keep our appointment  …  I'd just like to change the location."

She was royally confused now, and it must have shown. Amusement twinkled in his eyes and he smiled.
         

     



 
"I don't have a lot of time today, so let me come straight to the point."

His fingers were still around her wrist, though they'd loosened, and his  thumb moved idly over her pulse point. She was sure her pulse was  racing. It probably felt like a train under his fingers. She didn't  move. Didn't even breathe. She didn't want to lose the marvelous  sensation of his touch. Did he have any idea just how devastating his  effect on her was?

"I have a wedding this weekend." She could swear his lips curled in  distaste. "A family wedding. My brother is getting married on Catalina  Island. I'm to be there Thursday evening, hence the reason I can't make  our Friday meeting."

"I understand," she said. "We can reschedule at your convenience."

"I'd like you to go with me."

Before she could call back the reaction, her eyes widened and she pulled  her hand from his. She put it in her lap and cupped her other hand over  it, wanting to preserve the sensation of his fingers over hers.

He put up his hand in an impatient gesture then lowered it and fiddled  with the napkin on the table. He seemed almost uneasy. She cocked her  head, curious now as to what he would say next.

"My schedule is quite busy. I need to move on this new campaign. I can't  spare weeks searching for a new agency. If you went with me, I could  listen to your ideas. I realize a wedding isn't ideal. I'd rather be  just about any other place myself."

Though it certainly wasn't voiced as a threat, it was certainly implied.  If she went with him, he'd listen to her pitch. If she didn't he might  not have time for her when he returned.

Worry knotted her stomach. Tagging along to a family wedding seemed  entirely too personal even if the purpose was solely business. Not to  mention it was hard enough to battle her attraction for him in a  business setting. But something as intimate as a wedding?

"How long would we be  …  away?"

The question came out more as a squeak than a concise, professional  query. She sounded like a scared little girl facing the big bad wolf.  Oh, but Evan made such a yummy wolf.

It was all she could do not to put her head on the table and bang a few times.

"We'd fly out Thursday evening. Rehearsal and dinner on Friday, wedding  Saturday with reception to follow and since it will likely go well into  the night, we'd return Sunday."

It would only require one missed day of work. No one but Brock would  even need to know, and he certainly wouldn't spill the beans.

She didn't know why she hadn't immediately agreed. She couldn't afford  to say no. He had her over a barrel and he damn well knew it. Still, she  hesitated-if for no other reason than to let him know he didn't call  all the shots.

Okay, so maybe he did, but it didn't hurt him to think otherwise. For two seconds.

"All right," she said in as level a voice as she could manage.

Did he expect her to attend the festivities? It certainly sounded as  though he did by the way he outlined the events. She supposed it would  be rude to tag along and lurk in the shadows waiting for her appointed  time. Or maybe he envisioned having her follow him around everywhere so  he could fit in snatches of conversation when possible.

"I'd be happy to purchase any items you may need for the trip," he said.

Startled, she glanced up. "No, I mean  …  no. Of course not. I can manage  just fine. You'll need to tell me the appropriate dress code of course."

He managed a wry smile. "I'm sure anything to do with Bettina will be formal. Quite formal with lots of glitter and fanfare."

His gaze slid sensuously over her features and then lower until her neck heated with a blush.

"I think anything you wear will be stunning. The dress you wore the other night was perfection on you."

The blush climbed higher and she prayed her cheeks didn't look like twin torches.

"I'm sure I can find something glitzy and glamorous," she said lightly. "We girls do like the opportunity to play dress up."

Interest sparked in his eyes. "I can't wait."

The waiter returned with the wine, and Celia latched gratefully onto the  glass. Her hands shook. She was sure if she stood, she'd go down like a  brick. She'd break an ankle trying to stay up on these ridiculous  heels.

Note to self: Don't pack gorgeous, sexy shoes for the weekend. Around  him, she'd be a disaster on stilts. He'd spend his entire time picking  her up off the floor, that is if she didn't end up in the hospital in  traction.

"I'll call you later in the week with the flight arrangements. We'll be taking my private jet."         

     



 

She swallowed and nodded, then realizing he'd need her number-her cell  number and not her office number-she reached down into her briefcase to  retrieve a business card.

She frowned, fumbled some more then pulled the bag into her lap. With a  groan she realized her business-card holder must have fallen out.  Impatiently she tore a piece of paper off a notepad and took out her  pen.

Dropping the bag again, she put the paper on the table and hastily  scribbled her home and cell number then passed it across the table to  Evan.

He took it, studied it a moment then carefully folded it and tucked it  away in the breast pocket of his jacket. The waiter approached with  menus and Evan looked to her for her order.

"Just the lunch salad," she said. What she really wanted was a really  greasy burger with onion rings, but she didn't want to appall Evan. Her  brothers gave her all sorts of hell for her indelicate tastes, but then  they were to blame for them.

Evan ordered a steak, medium, and after the waiter was gone, Evan stared over at her, his gaze inquisitive.

She cocked her head, prepared for him to ask her a question, but he  didn't say anything. He just seemed to study her as if he wanted to  uncover all her deep, dark secrets.

Finally he sat back with a satisfied smile. His eyes glinted with triumph.

"I think this wedding is going to turn out to be enjoyable after all."





Four


Celia stepped off the elevator and walked by Shelby, who held her hand up to get Celia's attention.

"Later, Shelby," she called as she headed for Brock's office.

When she got to his door, she was nearly run over as Ash came out. He  sidestepped her and kept on walking, his forehead wrinkled as if he were  lost in thought. She wasn't even sure he'd seen her.

She stuck her head in Brock's door and breathed a sigh of relief when she found him alone. He glanced up and motioned her in.

"What's with him?" she asked, jerking her head over her shoulder in Ash's direction. "He's been weird lately."

Brock gave her one of those puzzled male looks that suggested he didn't  have a clue what she was talking about. She rolled her eyes. Ash had  been walking around in a fog, which wasn't typical. He was usually on  top of everything and everyone. Celia had overheard Shelby talking about  a falling out with a girlfriend, but then she hadn't even known Ash had  been seeing anyone. Not that he would have confided in her.

She didn't bother sitting. She had too much to do, and this wouldn't take long.

"I have to go out of town Thursday afternoon."

Brock stared back at her for a moment and then his brows drew together. He frowned and dropped the pen he'd been fiddling with.

"Is this some kind of emergency? You're supposed to meet with Evan Reese on Friday."

His tone suggested someone better be dying. He opened his mouth to say  more but before he got off on the tangent she knew was coming, she held  up her hand.

"I just had lunch with Evan. There's been a change in plans. He has to  be at some family wedding this weekend in Catalina so he couldn't make  it on Friday. He said he wants to move on this campaign and he doesn't  have a lot of time to spend in the selection process."

Brock swore, his face going red. He picked the pen back up and flung it  across his desk. "Dammit, is he even going to listen to our pitch?"