The Magnate's Manifesto(42)

“How forward-thinking of me,” he retorted. “I can bring my girlfriend here instead of paying for divorce proceedings.”

Her throaty laugh did strange things to his stomach. “You think you’re so tough, Jared Stone,” she murmured as she turned around. “But you’re really not. You know that?”

He elected not to respond. She was in white tonight, a simple classy knee-length dress that made the most of her curvaceous figure, hair up in a sleek chignon that left her beautiful neck bare. His strict no-virgin policy should have shielded him from the desire to bury his mouth in the exposed hollow between neck and shoulder. Unfortunately, his body wasn’t following his strategic plan.

Biting out a curse, he whipped the tie around his neck and tied it with the quick efficiency of a man who hated that particular accessory. He was not having her.

Bailey surveyed him with a critical eye. Walked toward him with a purposeful movement that sent his pulse into overdrive. He yanked in a breath as she came to a halt in front of him and pushed his hands aside.

“Your tie is crooked.”

As disheveled as his mind.

He kept his hands by his sides while she undid the tie, set it back around his neck and retied it, her technique smooth and flawless. Her perfume drifted into his nostrils, the curves he was almost going crazy not touching so close he would only have had to take a step to feel her against him.

“How did you,” he murmured roughly, “learn to tie a tie so well with no lovers in your life?”

She pursed her lips as she finished it off. “Etiquette training.”

“Etiquette training?” He stared at her as if he hadn’t heard right. “As in Pygmalion?”

She smiled. “If you want to put it like that.”

“Why?”

Rosy color stained her cheeks. “I grew up dirt-poor with no idea of how to function in society, Jared. I was a stripper. Where was I going to learn what to say over a business dinner? What fork to use? I might have gotten an MBA, but it in no way prepared me for any of that. So I had someone teach me.”

“Right.” His heart contracted. Just a bit.

Every time he built a wall against her, she disarmed him. She said something like that and reminded him just how vulnerable she was under that tough exterior. It made him want to hold her and never let go.

“Jared—” She bit her lip and stared up at him and God help him, he almost snared that luscious mouth under his and did what he wanted to do. But that was absolutely, definitely not happening. Not tonight when he needed his wits about him. When he needed to win this deal.

“We need to go,” he announced abruptly, stepping back. “We’re already late.”

The hurt he seemed to be a professional at putting in her eyes gleamed bright. He ignored it and shoved his wallet into his pocket.

“The car’s waiting. Let’s go.”



The seafood restaurant on the Rue de Rivoli was packed with people on the warm, steamy Paris night. The maître d’ led them to the chef’s table at the back of the restaurant with its much-in-demand view of the bustling, sparkling kitchen in which white-coated chefs worked in symphonic precision.

They were the last in the group of seven to arrive. Their competition, John Gehrig, the CEO of Gehrig Electronics, rose to introduce himself, his wife, Barbara, and his vice president of marketing. Gehrig was a warm, friendly Midwesterner in his early fifties whom Bailey couldn’t help but instantly like. As was Barbara, who was utterly charming as his feminine counterpart, and apparently whip-smart as Gehrig’s legal counsel.

She moved to greet Davide, then Alexander, who was superbly dressed in a gray suit and navy shirt and drawing more than one set of female eyes as he stood. He bent to press a kiss to each of her cheeks, the touch of his lips sending an involuntary shiver through her. “You look outrageously beautiful,” he murmured in her ear as he brushed the other cheek. “Unfortunate Stone had the pleasure of escorting you.”

Bailey stepped back, firmly disengaging his hands. “So lovely to see you again.”

Jared made a point of sitting in the seat beside Alexander at the round table designed for conversation, which left Bailey to his left and Barbara beside her. A potent predinner cocktail Barbara suggested was a fine method of relaxation, and before long, the two of them had hit it off.

“So,” Barbara murmured as the fish course was being removed, “are you and the delectable Jared together?”

She shook her head. “What made you think that?”

“The way he looks at you. Like he’d like to have you for the main course…you might want to address that.”