Not the Marrying Kind(16)

There was something going on here, something beyond the initial buzz of attraction. His steady stare wasn’t sexual—far from it. It was almost…predatory, as though he was a giant shark eyeing an itty-bitty flounder.

He stood and beckoned her closer. “We should check out some venues.”

An order, not a request. Corporate hotshots like him were used to their demands being obeyed. And for the next few weeks, or however long it took to organize this party and run it, she’d have to do what he said. Within reason.

“I can do that online. Or I can schedule a return visit—”

“Now,” he said, glancing at his watch. “We can grab some dinner, then check out the hotel function rooms.”

She didn’t want to have dinner with him, didn’t want to be studied for one second longer than she had to. But it made sense to see the venues firsthand rather than online, and doing it now would save her a return trip. Though it wouldn’t be half bad on that jet.

“Sounds good.” She slid her tablet into her satchel and stood.

“I’ll have my executive assistant call ahead and schedule it.”

He strode toward his desk, power in motion, and she had to admit the combination of determination and authority, and the ease with which he wielded it, was pretty damned hot. She didn’t go for suits, preferred her guys a little rough around the edges, but there was something about Beck Blackwood that appealed on a visceral level.

He’d be great fling material…if she ever lost her mind and risked sleeping with an important business contact. As if. She’d nailed the first step, winning the pitch. If she could do the same with the party, news would spread and Divorce Diva Daily would be in demand. Yeah, she’d throw a divorce party like this town had never seen before. And that meant keeping her X-rated thoughts about Beck to herself.

“Done. Simone will arrange some viewing times in a few hours and make a dinner reservation.” He snagged his jacket off the back of the chair and hooked it over his shoulder, looking executive and commanding and sexy at the same time.

Her hands-off resolution would be sorely tested.

“Have to say, Poppy, I’m impressed.” He had that penetrating stare going on again.

She gripped her bag tighter. “Thanks.”

“So impressed, I have another business proposition for you later.” His mouth eased into a slow grin and rather than easing her tension it ratcheted up.

“Great.” Her inner diva did an exultant fist-pump.

“I hope you think so.”

But as he placed his hand in the small of her back to propel her toward the door, she couldn’t shake the feeling this proposition would be more than she bargained for.

…



Beck had impeccable timing.

He carefully weighed decisions, analyzing all angles, before taking a metaphorical plunge.

He never wanted to be like his impulsive parents, who’d chased the next thrill, the next high.

Being rash ended in disaster, so the moment the idea to have Poppy as his wife ignited, he’d mentally listed the pros and cons.

Pros:

Amenable to business dealings

Intelligent

Attractive

Articulate

Professional

Suburban background

No skeletons

Not an acquaintance so no risk of emotional involvement



Cons:

???



Hmmm…looked like there wasn’t one good reason to keep Poppy Collins from becoming the wife he needed.

Now he had to convince her.

“Dinner was sensational, but I’m so full I can hardly move.” Poppy patted her stomach, drawing his gaze to the way the crimson silk draped her torso and clung to her breasts. The ruby color highlighted her vibrancy, deepening the lowlights in the shiny brunette tumble around her shoulders, bringing out the golden flecks in her eyes. It illuminated her like a beacon, drawing the gaze of every guy in the room, and it vindicated his choice. She’d lost the jacket halfway through dinner and his triple-baked goat’s cheese soufflé and anchovy-studded veal loin served with truffle polenta had morphed from sublime to tasteless in a second.

She was one of those rare women who managed to appear classy yet sexy, elegant yet down-to-earth, and she’d be perfect to convince the investors that Beck Blackwood was trustworthy and responsible.

“What do you think of this place?” His arm swept wide, encompassing the rooftop bar of the Blackwood, one of his company’s finest hotels.

“It’s perfect.” Her eyes glittered with excitement as she gripped the metal railing and leaned forward, her hair rippling behind her like russet velvet in the cool night breeze. “Like being on top of the world.”

“Best place to be,” he said, joining her at the railing, their elbows inadvertently touching.