Sleeping With Her Rival

Three

Two days later Gina entered the impressive high-rise that housed Kingman Marketing, a global advertising, public-relations and marketing agency.

Flint had called her this morning, demanding a meeting. Gina had tried to talk him into coming to her office, but he’d refused. For some unexplained reason, he wanted her on his turf.

She suspected that he’d devised a scandal and intended to make a presentation of some sort.

Standing in front of the elevator, she waited for the doors to open. She’d done some research on Kingman Marketing and learned that the company had built its stellar reputation on a high-profile clientele, which included well-known corporations, politicians and celebrities.

Like Tara Shaw, she thought. The actress Flint had bedded all those years ago.

The elevator opened, and Gina entered the confined space. Alone with her thoughts, she pressed the appropriate button and released an edgy breath. She wasn’t comfortable seeing Flint again, especially after that awkward “business” dinner.

They’d stared at each other half the night like sex-starved teenagers on a first date. She’d hated every minute of that warm, woozy, he’s-so-gorgeous feeling. She’d struggled through the meal, the food melting in her mouth like an unwelcome aphrodisiac. And he kept smiling at her, teasing her in that playful manner of his, which had only managed to make her more nervous.

The elevator stopped, and Gina stepped into the hallway and faced a set of smoked-glass doors, knowing it was the entrance to Flint’s domain.

The sixth floor was dedicated to the public-relations department, and she’d heard that he ran his division with strength, strategy and creativity.

She stalled for a moment, battling a bout of anxiety. Smoothing her jacket, she told herself to relax. She didn’t intend to let Flint eye her the way he’d done at the restaurant. Today she wore a camel-colored pantsuit, a ribbed turtleneck and conservative boots. Aside from her hands and face, she was completely covered. This outfit couldn’t possibly turn him on.

Ready to do battle, she went inside, and then she stood and gazed around the massive reception area.

Antiques from every corner of the world made an incredible display, and so did modern works of art. She knew instantly that Flint had worked closely with the decorator.

“Are you Gina Barone?”

She turned to see a slim, chic woman rise from a birch desk—a unique piece of furniture that fit her vogue style. Alabaster skin showcased cropped black hair and trendy black glasses, making her look fashionably efficient.

“Yes, I am.”

The woman came forward and extended her hand. “I’m Kerry Landau, Flint’s assistant.”

Gina smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Kerry lowered her glasses and peered at Gina with exotically lined eyes. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were admiring the decor.” She pointed to a table-high statue—a depiction of a long, lean, naked lady. “That’s my husband’s work. He’s still a struggling artist. But he’s exceptional.”

“Yes, he is.” Gina studied the piece. The marble lady stood there, one hand draped between her thighs, her other arm barely shielding her aroused nipples. She seemed sensuously vulnerable, innocent yet erotic.

Gina turned to speak to Kerry and caught sight of Flint. He’d appeared out of nowhere, and he leaned against the doorjamb that led to his office, his head tilted at a curious angle.

“Ms. Barone is here,” Kerry announced.

“So I see.”

Flint’s gaze roamed over Gina’s carefully clothed body, and suddenly she felt as naked as the statue. And just as vulnerable.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

To enter the wolf’s private den? No, she wasn’t the least bit ready. “Of course.”

“Good.” He escorted her down a brightly lit hallway and into his office.

Offering her a seat, he gestured to a comfortable yet elegant sitting area. He’d spared no expense in decorating his domain, and she suspected his family was as wealthy as hers. But that was where the similarity ended.

Flint was an only child—the prince, the heir to the Kingman throne. Gina, on the other hand, struggled with being a middle child, the one her parents overlooked, the one who had to work twice as hard to get noticed.

Gina sighed, then glanced up and caught Flint watching her.

Uncomfortable, she folded her hands on her lap.

He moved to stand in front of his desk—a rich, intricately carved block of mahogany.

“You have exceptional taste,” she said, struggling to fill the silence.

A small smile curved his lips. “In women?”

She shifted on the sofa. “In furniture.”

“Thank you.” The teasing smile remained. “Would you like a drink? Coffee, tea, a soft drink?” He walked to the bar. “A glass of milk?”

“A cup of hot tea would be nice,” she responded, wishing he would stop flirting.

“Coming right up.”

Within minutes he placed a silver tea set on the table beside her. It looked much too refined to be served by a tall, broad-shouldered man.

He sat across from her, looking wildly attractive, his rebellious hair falling onto his forehead.

She prepared her tea, adding cream and sugar. “So, what’s the purpose of this meeting? Did you mastermind a scandal?”

“Yes.”

She tasted the hot brew, sipping delicately. “And?”

“And I think we should have an affair.”

Gina nearly spilled her tea, and Flint laughed.

“Not a real affair,” he clarified.

“Let me get this straight.” She set her cup on the table, knowing she wasn’t steady enough to balance it. Apparently he’d meant to knock her for a loop, to heave his proposal at her, much in the way she’d tossed that apple at him. “You’re suggesting we fake an affair?”

“That’s right. A whirlwind romance and a stormy breakup.”

She released a choppy breath. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course, I am. Your family is already being targeted in the tabloids, so you’ll draw plenty of attention. And so will I, considering I’ve been in the spotlight before.”

Yes, he’d been in the spotlight before, playing around with a movie star.

“I’m telling you. This will work. Just picture the headlines. ‘PR prince melts Italian ice-cream princess.’ It’ll make great copy.”

She shook her head, still trying to fathom the idea. “We don’t even like each other.”

“So what? It’s just a phony affair. Three weeks of prominent dating, then a public breakup, and I’ll be out of your hair.” He removed his jacket and loosened his tie, giving himself a rakish look. “By the time we’re done with the media, they won’t care about pepper-spiced gelato or family curses. All they’ll care about is the hip-grinding, mind-blowing displays of affection we’ll be tossing their way.” He gazed directly into her eyes. “Come on, what do you have to lose?”

My sanity, she thought.

“We’ve got great chemistry, Gina.” He moved onto the sofa and reached for her hand. And when he linked his fingers with hers, a jolt of electricity shot up her arm.

“You can’t deny our chemistry. I know you can feel it.” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed her knuckles with his lips. And then he teased her with a quick, playful bite.

Gina’s blood rushed from her head to her toes. Heat pooled between her legs. Her nipples went hard.

But when he sent her that sly, sexy smile, she jerked her hand back.

Damn him, she thought, as her pulse jumped and jittered. Damn him to hell.

He was right, of course. His ploy would work. The tabloids would feed on the sexual frenzy he intended to create. The press would sensationalize her affair with him instead of trashing Baronessa.

But could she actually paw him in public? Or let him run those spine-tingling hands all over her body?

“So, what do you say?” Flint asked. “Are we on?”

Yes. No. Maybe. Her mind spun. Her heart raced. “I don’t know. I—”

“Hey, if you’re worried about your image, relax. I’ve got that covered.”

She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

He crossed to the bar. “That stiff nature of yours. You know as well as I do that it won’t fly, Gina. It’ll make you seem unlikable.”

She eyed him with annoyance. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” He popped the top on a soda and took a swig. “But I’ve dealt with this sort of thing before. I’m just the guy who can give you an image that will dazzle the media, charm the public and make men fall at your feet.”

Offended, she lifted her chin. “I don’t need you to run my social life.”

He set his drink on the table. “The hell you don’t. You’ve got incredible sex appeal, but you don’t know how to use it.”

“And a phony affair with you is going to turn me into a femme fatale?”

He slanted her his signature grin. “You bet is it.”

“Go to hell, Flint.”

“Hey, come on. Don’t be that way. This is business.”

At the moment she didn’t care. Refusing to listen to any more of his spin-doctor spiel, she rose and headed for the door, leaving him cursing behind her.

The community living room at the brownstone was cozy yet elegant, with tall, leafy plants, beige furniture and an array of pale blue pillows, but the familiar atmosphere didn’t lighten Gina’s mood.

Eight hours after her meeting with Flint, she sat on a big, comfy sofa, venting her frustration to her younger sisters.

Rita, an almost twenty-five-year-old nurse at Boston General, listened with a sympathetic ear.

Twenty-three-year-old Maria, on the other hand, seemed preoccupied. She stood beside the window, gazing at the setting sun. Gina admired her sister’s business savvy, and tonight she needed the other woman’s undivided attention.

“Don’t you care about what’s going on?” Gina asked, unable to temper her irritation.

Maria turned instantly. She stared at Gina with dark eyes, her chiseled features a mask of composure. In spite of her petite frame, she exuded strength. “That isn’t fair. You know how important the Valentine’s Day promotion was to me. I’m as concerned as you are about the company our grandparents built.”

Of course she was, Gina thought guiltily. Maria managed Baronessa Gelateria, a family-owned, old-fashioned ice-cream parlor—a Hanover Street location overflowing with charm and an emotional cloud of memories.

Still, Gina couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else going on in Maria’s life. Her sister had been slipping off lately, almost as if she were meeting someone on the sly.

Startled by her imagination, Gina shook her head. The phony affair Flint had proposed had warped her mind. Now she was conjuring a secret lover for Maria.

“I feel like I’m trapped between a rock and a hard place,” Gina said, drawing the conversation to her rival. “Baronessa’s reputation is floundering, and I just locked horns with the spin doctor who’s supposed to pull us out of this mess.”

Maria moved away from the window. “I’m sorry, Gina. I know this isn’t easy on you.”

Rita, seated in one of the overstuffed chairs, tucked her legs beneath her. She still wore her uniform, but she’d removed the white, crepe-soled shoes. “There has to be a solution.”

“Yes, but what?” Gina asked. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to restore Baronessa’s reputation, but I can’t stand the thought of snuggling up to that macho, arrogant man.” She dragged a hand through her hair, tugging her fingers through the loosened, unruly curls. “He doesn’t think I can dazzle the media on my own. He thinks I need him to coach me.”

“Then prove him wrong,” Maria suggested. “Show him that you can handle the press.”

Rita perked up. “That’s a great idea. After all, Gina, you have your own brand of charm. There’s nothing wrong with your image.”

“That’s right.” Maria sent her a warm smile. “You’re a beautiful, powerful, successful woman. What can a spin doctor teach you that you don’t already know?”

“Nothing,” Gina said, her confidence budding. But she could teach Flint Kingman plenty.

After an exhausting ten hours at the office, Flint unlocked his front door, then dropped his keys and spewed a vile curse.

His day had gone from bad to worse, and it was all Gina’s fault.

How could she have turned him down? His plan was brilliant. But she was too stubborn to admit it, to thank him the way she should have. He wasn’t just offering to repair the damage at Baronessa, he was offering to glamorize her image.

What female in her right mind wouldn’t want that?

Didn’t she know whom she was dealing with? Flint was an expert. Even his house was a work of art, a renovation with bold lines and stunning curves.

He glanced around, proud of the changes he’d made. His entryway featured hardwood floors instead of cool, marble tiles, and a fluid archway led to a collection of carefully chosen antiques, erotic paintings and a spiral staircase as smooth and sleek as a woman’s body. He liked to run his hands along the banister, to feel the architectural beauty it possessed.

After all, he thought, everything, even inanimate objects, represented life.

Suddenly craving a warm shower and a cold beer, he headed to a large, custom-designed kitchen, grabbed a long-neck bottle and started stripping off his clothes.

By the time he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, he’d left a careless stream of garments strewn along the way.

Standing beside the bed in a pair of pin-striped boxers, he twisted the cap on the beer and took a swig.

And then the damned phone rang.

Still feeling surly about Gina walking out on him, he grabbed the receiver. “What?” he said in place of a proper hello.

“It’s me,” a feminine voice announced.

“Who’s me?” he asked, even though he knew it was the ice princess herself.

“It’s Gina. And I changed my mind.”

“Did you, now?”

“Yes, I did. After all, it is a woman’s prerogative.”

“So you’ll have that phony affair with me?”

“Yes,” she said primly. “But I won’t allow you to alter my image.”

He glared at the phone for a second. She would take his advice whether she liked it or not. But he wasn’t about to argue the point. For now he would let her think she’d won. “Fine, but you can’t back out if things get a little rough. So you better be damned sure you’re committed to this project.”

“I intend to combat the trouble at Baronessa,” she retorted. “Even if it means faking a relationship with you.”

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