The CEO’s Accidental Bride

Barbara Dunlop

Paper Marriage Proposition

Red Garnier

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The CEO’s Accidental Bride

Barbara Dunlop

“It only took us five minutes to get married, no reason why the divorce should take any longer.”

“Glad you see it that way.” He gave a sharp nod, and his hand went to the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, I’ll want to cover any inconvenience.” He extracted a gold pen and a brown leather check book, flipping open the cover and glancing at her. “A million?”

Kaitlin blinked in confusion. “A million what?”

He breathed a sigh of obvious impatience. “Dollars,” he stated. “Don’t play coy, Kaitlin. You and I both know this is going to cost me.”

Was he that desperate?

Wait a minute. Was he desperate?

Dear Reader,

I have a passion for historic buildings—big or small, opulent or plain. From the passageways of the Tower of London to the faded boards of a broken-down shed on a lonely prairie highway, I love to imagine who built a house, who walked its halls, who lived, who loved, and who might have died there all those years ago.

Billionaire Zach Harper is descended from pirates. His family castle, built on an island off the coast of New York, is a living museum and the centerpiece of his heritage. But when he accidentally marries architect Kaitlin Saville at a wild Vegas office party, everything is at risk.

I hope you enjoy Zach and Kaitlin’s story. I modeled the Harper family castle after the real life Craigdarroch Castle in Victoria, British Columbia. If you’re interested, there’s a link to the castle on my website.

Happy reading!

Barbara

www.barbaradunlop.com

About the Author

BARBARA DUNLOP writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canada’s far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website at www.barbaradunlop.com.

For my fabulous editor, Kathryn Lye

One

Zach Harper was the last person Kaitlin Saville expected to see standing in the hallway outside her apartment door. The tall, dark-haired, steel-eyed man was the reason she was packing her belongings, the reason she was giving up her rent-controlled apartment, the person who was forcing her to leave New York City.

Facing him, she folded her arms across her dusty blue Mets T-shirt, hoping her red eyes had faded from her earlier crying jag and that no tear streaks remained on her cheeks.

“We have a problem,” Zach stated, his voice crisp, and his expression detached. His left hand was clasped around a black leather briefcase.

He wore a Grant Hicks suit and a pressed, white shirt. His red tie was made of fine silk, and his cuff links were solid gold. As usual, his hair was freshly cut, face freshly shaved, and his shoes were polished to within an inch of their lives.

“We don’t have anything,” she told him, curling her toes into the cushy socks that covered her feet below the frayed hem of her faded jeans.

She was casual, not frumpy, she told herself. A woman had a right to be casual in her own home. Where Zach Harper had no right to be in her home at all. She started to close the door on him. But his hand shot out to brace it.

His hand was broad and tanned, with a strong wrist and tapered fingers. No rings, but a platinum Cartier watch with a diamond face. “I’m not joking, Kaitlin.”

“And I’m not laughing.” She couldn’t give one whit about any problem the high-and-mighty Zach Harper might encounter during his charmed life. The man not only got her fired, but he also had her blackballed from every architectural firm in New York City.

He glanced past her shoulder. “Can I come in?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment. “No.”

He might be master of his domain at Harper Transportation and at every major business function in Manhattan, but he did not have the right to see her messy place, especially the collection of lacy lingerie sitting under the window.

He clenched his jaw.

She set her own, standing her ground.

“It’s personal,” he persisted, hand shifting on the briefcase handle.

“We’re not friends,” she pointed out.

They were, in fact, enemies. Because that was what happened when one person ruined another person’s life. It didn’t matter that the first person was attractive, successful, intelligent and one heck of a good dancer. He’d lost all rights to … well, anything.

Zach squared his shoulders, then glanced both ways down the narrow corridor of the fifty-year-old building. The light was dim, the patterned carpets worn. Ten doors opened into this particular section of the fifth floor. Kaitlin’s apartment was at the end, next to a steel exit door and a fire alarm protected by a glass cover.

“Fine,” he told her. “We’ll do it out here.”

Oh, no, they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t do anything anywhere, ever again. She started to step back into the safety of her apartment.

“You remember that night in Vegas?” he asked.

His question stopped her cold.

She would never forget the Harper corporate party at the Bellagio three months ago. Along with the singers, dancers, jugglers and acrobats who had entertained the five-hundred-strong crowd of Harper Transportation’s high-end clients, there was a flamboyant Elvis impersonator who’d coaxed her and Zach from the dance floor to participate in a mock wedding.

At the time, it had seemed funny, in keeping with the lighthearted mood of the party. Of course, her sense of humor had been aided that night by several cranberry martinis. In hindsight, the event simply felt humiliating.

“The paper we signed?” Zach continued in the face of her silence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied to him.

In fact, she’d come across their mock wedding license just this morning. It was tucked into the lone, slim photo album that lived in her bottom dresser drawer beneath several pairs of blue jeans.

It was stupid to have kept the souvenir. But the glow from her evening on Zach’s arm had taken a few days to fade away. And at the time she’d put the marriage license away, those happy minutes on the dance floor had seemed somehow magical.

It was a ridiculous fantasy.

The man had destroyed her life the very next week.

Now, he drew a bracing breath. “It’s valid.”

She frowned at him. “Valid for what?”

“Marriage.”

Kaitlin didn’t respond. Was Zach actually suggesting they’d signed a real marriage license?

“Is this a joke?” she asked.

“Am I laughing?”

He wasn’t. But then he rarely laughed. He rarely joked, either. That night, she’d later learned, was quite the anomaly for him.

A cold feeling invaded her stomach.

“We’re married, Kaitlin,” he told her, steel eyes unflinching.

They were not married. It had been a lark. They’d been playacting up there on the stage.

“Elvis was licensed by the state of Nevada,” said Zach.

“We were drunk,” Kaitlin countered, refusing to believe such a preposterous claim.

“He filed a certificate.”

“How do you know that?” Her brain was revving into overdrive, calculating the possibilities and the potential consequences.

“Because my lawyers tell me so.” He gave a meaningful glance past her shoulder, into the apartment. “Can I please come in?”

She thought about her mystery novels covering the couch, the entertainment magazines that were sitting out on the coffee table, the credit card and bank statements in piles beside them, revealing her shopping habits for the past month. She remembered the telltale, half-eaten package of Sugar Bob’s doughnuts sitting out on the counter. And, of course, there was the box of sexy underwear on full display in the afternoon sunshine.

But, if he was telling the truth, it wasn’t something she could ignore.

She gritted her teeth and ordered herself to forget about his opinion. Who cared if he found out she had a weakness for Sugar Bob’s? In a matter of days, he’d be out of her life. She’d leave everything she’d ever known, start all over in another city, maybe Chicago or Los Angeles.

Her throat involuntarily tightened at the thought, and her tears threatened to freshen.

Kaitlin hated being uprooted. She’d started over so many times already, leaving security and normalcy behind as she moved from one childhood foster home to another. She’d been in this small apartment since she started college. And it was the only place that had ever felt remotely like home.

“Kaitlin?” he prompted.

She swallowed to clear the thick emotions from her throat. “Sure,” she told him with grim determination, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

As she shut the door, Zach took in the disarray of packing boxes littering the apartment. There wasn’t anywhere for him to sit down, and she didn’t offer to clear a chair. He wouldn’t be staying very long.

Though she tried to ignore it, her glance shifted involuntarily to the underwear box. Zach tracked her gaze, his resting on the mauve-and-white silk teddy her friend Lindsay had bought her for Christmas last year.

“Do you mind?” she snapped, marching over to pull the cardboard flaps shut.

“Not at all,” he muttered, and she thought she heard a trace of amusement in his tone.

He was laughing at her. Perfect.

The cardboard flaps sprang back open again, and she felt the unwelcome heat of a blush. She turned to face him, placing her body between Zach and her underwear.

Behind him, she spied the open box of Sugar Bob’s. Three of the doughnuts were missing, transferred from the white cardboard and cellophane container to her hips around nine this morning.

Zach didn’t appear to have an ounce of fat on his well-toned body. She’d be willing to bet his breakfast had consisted of fruit, whole grains and lean protein. It was probably whipped up by his personal chef, ingredients imported from France, or maybe Australia.

He perched his briefcase on top of a stack of DVDs on her end table and snapped open the latches. “I’ve had my lawyers draw up our divorce papers.”

“We need lawyers?” Kaitlin was still struggling to comprehend the idea of marriage.

To Zach.

Her brain wanted to go a hundred different directions with that inconceivable fact, but she firmly reined it in. He might be gorgeous, wealthy and intelligent, but he was also cold, calculating and dangerous. A woman would have to be crazy to marry him.

He swung open the lid of the briefcase. “In this instance, lawyers are a necessary evil.”

Kaitlin reflexively bristled at the stereotype. Her best friend, Lindsay, wasn’t the least bit evil.

For a second, she let herself imagine Lindsay’s reaction to this news. Lindsay would be shocked, obviously. Would she be worried? Angry? Would she laugh?

The whole situation was pretty absurd.

Kaitlin anchored her loose auburn hair behind her ears, reflexively tugging one beaded jade earring as a nervous humor bubbled up inside her. She cocked her head and waited until she had Zach’s attention. “I guess what happens in Vegas sometimes follows you home.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek, and it definitely wasn’t from amusement. She felt a perverse sense of satisfaction at having put him even slightly off balance.

“It would help if you took this seriously,” he told her.

“We were married by Elvis.” She clamped determinedly down on a spurt of nervous laughter.

Zach’s gray eyes flashed.

“Come on, Zach,” she cajoled. “You have to admit—”

He retrieved a manila envelope. “Just sign the papers, Kaitlin.”

But she wasn’t ready to give up the joke. “I guess this means no honeymoon?”

He stopped breathing for a beat, and there was something familiar about the way his gaze flicked to her lips.

She was struck by a sudden, vivid memory, instantly sobering her.

Had they kissed that night in Vegas?

Every once in a while, she had a fleeting image of his mouth on hers, the heat, the taste, the pressure of his full lips. She imagined that she could remember his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against his hard body, the two of them molding together as if they belonged.

In the past, she’d always chalked it up to a fevered dream, but now she wondered …

“Zach, did we—”

He cleared his throat. “Let’s try to stay on track.”

“Right.” She nodded, determinedly pushing the hazy image out of her mind. If she’d kissed him even once, it was the worst mistake of her life. She detested him now, and the sooner he disappeared, the better.

She reached out her hand and accepted the envelope. “It only took us five minutes to get married, no reason why the divorce should take any longer.”

“Glad you see it that way.” He gave a sharp nod, and his hand went to the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, I’ll want to cover any inconvenience.” He extracted a gold pen and a brown leather checkbook, flipped open the cover and glanced at her. “A million?”

Kaitlin blinked in confusion. “A million what?”

He breathed a sigh of obvious impatience. “Dollars,” he stated. “Don’t play coy, Kaitlin. You and I both know this is going to cost me.”

Her jaw involuntarily dropped a notch.

Was he crazy?

He waited expectantly.

Was he desperate?

Wait a minute. Was he desperate?

She gave her brain a little shake. She and Zach were husband and wife. At least in the eyes of the law. Clearly, she was a problem for him. She doubted the high-and-mighty Zach Harper ran into too many problems. At least, none that he couldn’t solve with that checkbook.

Huh.

Interesting.

This time, Kaitlin did chuckle, and tapped the stiff envelope against the tabletop. She certainly didn’t want Zach’s money, but she sure wouldn’t say no to a little payback. What woman would?

This divorce didn’t have to happen in the next five minutes. She’d be in New York for at least another couple of weeks. For once in his life, Mr. Harper could bloody well wait on someone else’s convenience.

She took a breath, focused her thoughts and tried to channel Lindsay. Lindsay was brilliant, and she’d know exactly what to do in this circumstance.

Then, the answer came to Kaitlin. She raised her brows in mock innocence. “Isn’t New York a joint property state?”

Zach looked confused, but then his eyes hardened to flints.

He was angry. Too bad.

“I don’t recall signing a prenup,” she added for good measure.

“You want more money,” he spoke in a flat tone.

All she really wanted was her career back.

“You got me fired,” she pointed out, feeling the need to voice the rationale for her obstinacy.

“All I did was cancel a contract,” he corrected.

“You had to know I’d be the scapegoat. Who in New York City is going to hire me now?”

His voice went staccato. “I did not like your renovation design.”

“I was trying to bring your building out of the 1930s.” The Harper Transportation building had infinite potential, but nobody had done anything to it for at least five decades.

He glared at her a moment longer. “Fine. Have it your way. I got you fired. I apologize. Now how much?”

He wasn’t the least bit sorry for having her fired. He didn’t care a single thing about her. The only reason he’d even remembered her name was because of the accidental marriage. And he’d probably had to look that up.

She squared her shoulders beneath the dusty T-shirt, determined to take this victory. “Give me one good reason why I should make your life easier?”

“Because you don’t want to be married any more than I do.”

He had a fair point there. The mere thought of being Zach Harper’s wife sent a distinct shiver coursing its way up her spine.

It was distaste. At least she was pretty sure the feeling was distaste. With any other man, she might mistake it for arousal.

“Mrs. Zach Harper.” She pretended to ponder, warming to her stubborn stance as she purposely slowed to note her half-packed apartment. “Don’t you have a roomy penthouse on Fifth Avenue?”

He clicked the end of his pen, slowly lowering it to his side. “Are you daring me to call your bluff?”

She cracked her first genuine smile in three months. He wouldn’t do it. Not in a million years. “Yeah,” she taunted boldly. “Go ahead. Call my buff.”

He stepped closer, and an annoying buzz of awareness tickled its way through her stomach. They stared each other down.

“Or you could leave the divorce papers,” she offered with mock sweetness. “I’ll have my lawyer read them over next week.”

“Two million,” he offered.

“Next week,” she retorted, trying not to show her shock at the exorbitant figure. “Summon up some patience, Zachary.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Katie.”

“I’m protecting my own interests,” she told him.

And there was something to be said for that. Seriously. Who could guess what his lawyers had hidden in the divorce documents?

They were both silent. Horns honked and trucks rumbled by five floors below.

“I don’t trust you, Zach,” she informed him tartly. Which was completely true.

His expression hardening by the second, he stuffed the pen into his pocket, then deliberately tucked the checkbook away. He closed and latched the briefcase, and sharply straightened the sleeves of his jacket.

Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind him.

Zach slid into the passenger seat of the black Porsche Carrera idling at the curb outside Kaitlin’s Yorkville apartment building and yanked the door shut behind him.

“Did she sign?” asked Dylan Gilby, as he slipped the gearshift into First.

Zach tugged the seat belt over his shoulder and clicked the latch into place. “Nope.”

He normally prided himself on his negotiating skills. But there was something about Kaitlin that put him off his rhythm, and the meeting had been a colossal failure.

He didn’t remember her being so stubborn. To be fair, he hadn’t known her particularly well. They’d met a few times before the party, but it was only in passing while she was working on the renovation plans for his office building. He remembered her as smart, diligent, fun-loving and beautiful.

He had to admit, the beautiful part certainly still held true. Dressed to the nines in Vegas, she was the most stunning woman in a very big ballroom. Even today, in a faded baseball T-shirt and jeans, she was off the charts. No wonder he’d gone along with Elvis and said “I do.” He was pretty sure, in that moment, he did.

“You offered her the money?” asked Dylan.

“Of course I offered her money.” Zach had wanted to be fair. Well, and he’d also wanted the problem solved quickly and quietly. Money could usually be counted on to accomplish that.

“No go?” asked Dylan.

“She’s calling her lawyer,” Zach admitted with a grimace, cursing under his breath. Somehow, he’d played it all wrong. He’d blown his chance to end this neatly, and he had nobody to blame but himself.

Dylan flipped on his signal light and checked the rearview mirror on the busy street. He zipped into a tight space between a Mercedes and an old Toyota. “So, basically, you’re screwed.”

“Thank you for that insightful analysis,” Zach growled at his friend. Harper Transportation could well be on the line here, and Dylan was cracking jokes?

“What are friends for?” joked Dylan.

“Procuring single malt.” If ever there was a time that called for a bracing drink, this was it.

“I have to fly today,” said Dylan. “And I get the feeling you’ll need every brain cell functioning.”

Zach braced his elbow against the armrest as the car angled its way through traffic on the rain-dampened street. He reviewed the conversation with Kaitlin like a postgame tape. Where had he messed it up?

“Maybe I should have offered her more,” he ventured, thinking out loud. “Five million? Do people say no to five million?”

“You might have to tell her the truth,” Dylan offered.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Clinically, no.”

“Tell her that she’s inherited my grandmother’s entire estate?”

Hand the woman control on a silver platter? Did Dylan want to guarantee Zach was ruined?

“She did, in fact, inherit your grandmother’s estate,” Dylan pointed out.

Zach felt his blood pressure rise. He was living a nightmare, and Dylan of all people should appreciate the outrageousness of the situation.

“I don’t care what kind of paperwork was filed by the Electric Chapel of Love,” Zach growled. “Kaitlin Saville is not my wife. She is not entitled to half of Harper Transportation, and I will die before—”

“Her lawyer may well disagree with you.”

“If her lawyer has half a brain, he’ll tell her to take the two million and run.” At least Zach hoped that was what her lawyer would say.

The two of them were married. Yes. He’d have to own that particular mistake. But it couldn’t possibly be a situation his grandmother had remotely contemplated when she wrote her will. There was the letter of the law, and then there was the spirit of the law. His grandmother had never intended for a stranger to inherit her estate.

He had no idea if New York was, in fact, a joint property state. But even if it was, he and Kaitlin had never lived together. They’d never had sex. They’d never even realized they were married. The very thought that she’d get half of his corporation was preposterous.

“Did you think about getting an annulment?” asked Dylan.

Zach nodded. He’d talked to his lawyers about that, but they weren’t encouraging. “We never slept together,” he told Dylan. “But she could lie and say that we did.”

“Would she lie?”

“What do I know? I thought she’d take the two million.” Zach glanced around, orienting himself as they approached an entrance to Central Park. “We going anywhere near McDougal’s?”

“I’m not getting you drunk at three in the afternoon.” Dylan shook his head in disgust as he took a quick left. The Porsche gripped the pavement, and they barely beat an oncoming taxi.

“Are you my nursemaid?” asked Zach.

“You need a plan, not a drink.”

In Zach’s opinion, that was definitely debatable.

They slowed to a stop for a red light at another intersection. Two taxi drivers honked and exchanged hand gestures, while a throng of people swelled out from the sidewalk in the light drizzle and made their way between the stopped cars.

“She thinks I got her fired,” Zach admitted.

“Did you?”

“No.”

Dylan sent him a skeptical look. “Is she delusional? Or did you do something that resembled getting her fired?”

“Fine.” Zach shifted his feet on the floor of the Porsche. “I canceled the Hutton Quinn contract to renovate the office building. The plans weren’t even close to what I wanted.”

“And they fired her,” Dylan confirmed with a nod of comprehension.

Zach held up his palms in defense. “Their staffing choices are none of my business.”

Kaitlin’s renovation plans had been flamboyant and exotic in a zany, postmodern way. They weren’t at all in keeping with the Harper corporate image.

Harper Transportation had been a fixture in New York City for a hundred years. People depended on them for solid reliability and consistency. Their clients were serious, hardworking people who got the job done through boom times and down times.

“Then why do you feel guilty?” asked Dylan as they swung into an underground parking lot off Saint Street.

“I don’t feel guilty.” It was business. Nothing more and nothing less. Zach knew guilt had no part in the equation.

It was not as if he should have accepted inferior work because he’d once danced with Kaitlin, held her in his arms, kissed her mouth and wondered for a split second if he’d actually gone to heaven. Decisions that were based on a man’s sex drive were the quickest road to financial ruin.

Dylan scoffed an exclamation of disbelief as he came parallel with the valet’s kiosk. He shut off the car and set the parking break.

“What?” Zach demanded.

Dylan pointed at Zach. “I know that expression. I stole wine with you from my dad’s cellar when we were fifteen, and I remember the day you felt up Rosalyn Myers.”

The attendant opened the driver’s door, and Dylan dropped the keys into the man’s waiting palm.

Zach exited the car, as well. “I didn’t steal anything from Kaitlin Saville, and I certainly never—” He clamped his jaw shut as he rounded the polished, low-slung hood of the Porsche. The very last element he needed to introduce into this conversation was Kaitlin Saville’s breasts.

“Maybe that’s your problem,” said Dylan.

Zach coughed out an inarticulate exclamation.

“You married her,” Dylan said, taking obvious satisfaction in pointing that fact out as they crossed the crowded parking lot. “You must have liked her. You said yourself you haven’t slept with her. Maybe you’re not so much angry as horny.”

“I’m angry. Trust me. I can tell the difference.” Zach’s interest in Kaitlin was in getting rid of her. Anything else was completely out of the question.

“Angry at her or at yourself?”

“At her,” said Zach. “I’m just the guy trying to fix the problem here. If she’d sign the damn papers, or if my grandmother hadn’t—”

“It’s not nice to be mad at your grandmother,” Dylan admonished.

Zach wasn’t exactly angry with Grandma Sadie. But he was definitely puzzled by her behavior. Why on earth would she put the family fortune at risk? “What was she thinking?”

Dylan stepped up onto the painted yellow curb. “That she wanted your poor wife to have some kind of power balance.”

An unsettling thought entered Zach’s brain. “Did my grandmother talk to you about her will?”

“No. But she was logical and intelligent.”

Zach didn’t disagree with that statement. Sadie Harper had been a very intelligent, organized and capable woman. Which only made her decision more puzzling.

After Zach’s parents were killed in a boating accident when he was twenty, she’d been his only living relative. They’d grown very close the past fourteen years. She was ninety-one when she died, and had grown increasingly frail over the past year. She’d passed away only a month ago.

Zach thought he was ready.

He definitely wasn’t.

He and Dylan headed into the elevator, and Dylan inserted his key card for the helipad on top of the forty-story building.

“She probably wanted to sweeten the deal,” Dylan offered, with a grin. He leaned back against the rail, bracing his hands on either side as the doors slid shut. “With that kind of money on the table, you’ll have a fighting chance at getting a decent woman to marry you.”

“Your faith in me is inspiring.”

“I’m just sayin’ …”

“That I’m a loser?”

The elevator accelerated upward.

Dylan happily elaborated. “That there are certain things about your personality that might put women off.”

“Such as?”

“You’re grumpy, stubborn and demanding. You want to drink scotch in the middle of the day, and your ass isn’t what it used to be.”

“My ass is none of your business.” Zach might be approaching thirty-five, but he worked out four times a week, and he could still do ten miles in under an hour.

“What about you?” he challenged.

“What about me?” Dylan asked.

“We’re the same age, so your ass is in as much danger as mine. But I don’t see you in a hurry to settle into a relationship.”

“I’m a pilot.” Dylan grinned again. “Pilots are sexy. We can be old and gray, and we’ll still get the girls.”

“Hey, I’m a multimillionaire,” Zach defended.

“Who isn’t?”

The elevator came smoothly to a halt, and the doors slid open to the small glass foyer of the helipad. One of Dylan’s distinctive yellow-and-black Astral Air choppers sat waiting on the rooftop. A pilot by training, Dylan had built Astral Air from a niche division of his family’s corporation to one of the biggest flight service companies in America.

Dylan gave a mock salute to a uniformed technician as he and Zach jogged to the chopper and climbed inside.

He checked a row of switches and plugged in the headset. “You want me to drop you at the office?”

“What are your plans?” asked Zach. He wasn’t in a hurry to be alone with his own frustrations. He had a lot of thinking to do, but first he wanted to sleep on it, start fresh, maybe forget that he’d screwed up so badly with Kaitlin.

“I’m going up to the island,” said Dylan. “Aunt Ginny’s been asking about me, and I promised I’d drop in.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

Dylan shot him a look of surprise. Aunt Ginny could most charitably be described as eccentric. Her memory was fading, and for some reason she’d decided Zach was a reprobate. She also liked to torture the family’s Stradivarius violin and read her own poetry aloud.

“She has two new Pekingese,” Dylan warned.

Zach didn’t care. The island had always been a retreat for him. He needed to clear his head and then come up with a contingency plan.

“I hope your dad still stocks the thirty-year-old Glenlivet,” he told Dylan.

“I think we can count on that.” Dylan started the engine, and the chopper’s rotor blades whined to life.

Two

A week later, Kaitlin met her best friend, law professor Lindsay Rubin, in the park behind Seamount College in midtown. The cherry trees were in full bloom, scenting the air, their petals drifting to the walkway as the two women headed toward the lily pad–covered duck pond. It was lunchtime on a Wednesday, and the benches were filled with students from the college, along with businesspeople from the surrounding streets. Moms and preschool kids picnicked on blankets that dotted the lush grass.

“I finished reviewing your papers,” Lindsay said, swiping her shoulder-length blond hair over the shoulders of her classic navy blazer while they strolled their way down the concrete path.

Kaitlin and Lindsay’s friendship went back to their freshman year at college. Social Services had finally stepped out of Kaitlin’s life, and Lindsay had left her family in Chicago. On the same floor of the college dorms, they’d formed an instant bond.

They’d stayed close friends ever since, so Lindsay knew that Zach had ruined Kaitlin’s career, and she applauded Kaitlin’s desire for payback.

“Am I safe to sign?” asked Kaitlin. The sunshine was warm against her bare legs and twinkled brightly where it reflected off the rippling pond. “And how soon do I have to let him off the hook?”

Lindsay grinned in obvious delight. She pressed the manila envelope against Kaitlin’s chest, and Kaitlin automatically snagged it.

“Oh, it’s better than that,” she said.

“Better than what?” Kaitlin was puzzled

Lindsay chuckled deep in her chest. “I mean, you can name your own ticket.”

“My ticket to what?”

Why was Lindsay talking in riddles?

“Life,” Lindsay elaborated in a singsong voice. “What do you want? A mansion? A jet? A billion dollars?”

“I told you, I said no to the money.” Kaitlin hadn’t changed her mind about the money. She didn’t want what she hadn’t earned. “And what do you mean a billion? He was talking about two million.”

“It’s more than just two million.” Lindsay shook her head in what appeared to be amazement. “It’s Sadie Harper herself.”

Kaitlin lifted her hands, palms up, to signal her incomprehension. She assumed Sadie Harper must have something to do with Zach Harper, but that was as far as she got with the connection. What did the woman have to do with his money?

Lindsay lowered her voice, sounding decidedly conspiratorial as she moved closer to Kaitlin, her gaze darting dramatically around them. “Sadie was the matriarch of the Harper family. She died a month ago at the Harper house on Serenity Island.”

The pathway split, and Lindsay eased Kaitlin toward the route that skirted the pond. Their high heels clicked against the smooth, sun-warmed concrete.

Kaitlin still didn’t understand Lindsay’s point.

“I read a copy of her will,” said Lindsay. “You, my girl, are in it.”

“How can I be in it?” This conversation was making less sense by the minute. Kaitlin didn’t know Sadie Harper. Up until this minute, she’d never even heard of Sadie Harper.

“In fact,” Lindsay continued, a lilt of delight in her voice, “you are the sole beneficiary.”

Kaitlin instantly halted, turning to peer at Lindsay with narrowed eyes. Traffic zipped past on Liberty, engines roaring, horns honking. Cyclist and pedestrian traffic parted around them, some people shooting annoyed looks their way.

Lindsay tugged on Kaitlin’s arm, moving them off to the side of the pathway. “She left her entire estate to Mrs. Zachary Harper.”

“Get out,” Kaitlin breathed.

“I am dead serious.”

Kaitlin stepped farther aside to make room for a pair of cyclists skirting the edge of the path. “How did she even know about me?”

“She didn’t.” Lindsay gave her head a shake. “That’s the beauty of it. Well, part of the beauty of it. The whole thing is truly very beautiful.”

“Lindsay,” Kaitlin prompted with impatience.

“The will holds her estate in trust until Zach gets married,” said Lindsay. “But he’s already married so, in the eyes of the law, you own fifty percent of Harper Transportation.”

Kaitlin’s knees went weak.

No wonder Zach had seemed desperate.

No wonder he was in such a hurry to get rid of her.

“So, what do you want?” Lindsay asked again, a giggle at the end of the question.

Speechless, Kaitlin shoved the envelope back at Lindsay, overwhelmed by the thought of what was at stake. She took a step away and shook her head in silent refusal.

“I don’t want anything,” she finally managed to reply.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lindsay cajoled.

“The wedding was a joke,” Kaitlin reminded her. “It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to marry him. And I sure don’t deserve half his company.”

“Then take the money instead,” Lindsay offered reasonably.

As if that made it better. “I’m not taking his money, either.”

Lindsay held up her palms in exasperation. “So, what do you want? What’s the payback?”

Kaitlin thought about it for a moment. “I want him to sweat.”

Lindsay chuckled and linked her arm with Kaitlin’s, turning her to resume their walk. “Trust me, honey.” She patted her on the shoulder. “He is definitely sweating.”

“And I want a job,” said Kaitlin with conviction. That was what she’d lost in this debacle. She needed her career back.

“I don’t want free money,” she told Lindsay, voice strengthening. “I want a chance to prove myself. I’m a good … no, I’m a great architect. And all I want is a fair shot at proving it.”

The path met up with the sidewalk, and Lindsay tipped her head and stared up at the Harper Transportation sign on the pillar-adorned, ten-story concrete building across the street. “So, ask him for one,” she suggested.

Kaitlin squinted at the massive blue lettering. She glanced to Lindsay, then again at the sign. Suddenly, the possibilities of the situation bloomed in her brain.

A slow smile grew on her face. “There’s a reason I love you,” she said to Lindsay, giving her arm a squeeze. “That is a brilliant plan.”

And it was exactly what she’d do. She would make Zach Harper give her a job. She’d make him give her the job that should have been hers in the first place—developing designs for the renovation of his corporate headquarters.

She’d pick up right where she’d left off. In fact, she’d come up with an even better concept. Then, once she’d proven to him and to the world that she was a talented architect, she’d sign whatever papers he needed her to sign. He’d have his company back, and she’d have her life back. And, most importantly, she wouldn’t have to leave New York City.

The light turned green, and she tugged on Lindsay’s arm. “You’re coming with me.”

Lindsay hesitated, staying on the curb. “I have a class now.”

“We’ll be quick,” Kaitlin promised.

“But—”

“Come on. I need you to spout some legalese to scare him.”

“Trust me, he’s already scared.” But Lindsay started across the street.

“Then it’ll be easy,” Kaitlin assured her, stepping up on the opposite curb then mounting the short concrete staircase.

They made their way across the small serviceable lobby of the Harper Transportation building. Kaitlin had been in the building many times, so she knew Zach’s office was on the top floor.

While they took the groaning elevator ride up twenty stories, she straightened her short black skirt and adjusted her sleeveless, jade-green sweater, anchoring the strap of her small handbag. She moistened her lips as they exited the elevator. Then she determinedly paced down the narrow hallway to Zach’s receptionist.

“I’m here to see Zach Harper,” Kaitlin announced with as much confidence as she could muster.

Her pulse had increased, and her palms were starting to dampen. She was suddenly afraid the plan wouldn’t work. Like a drowning woman who’d been tossed a life vest, she was afraid her chance would float away before she could grab on to it.

“Do you have an appointment?” the young brunette woman asked politely, glancing from Kaitlin to Lindsay and back again. Kaitlin had seen the woman from a distance while working on the project for Hutton Quinn, but they’d never been introduced.

“No,” Kaitlin admitted, realizing the odds were slim that Zach was available at that particular moment.

Lindsay stepped forward, standing two inches taller than Kaitlin, her voice telegraphing professionalism and importance. “Tell him it’s a legal matter,” she said to the receptionist. “Kaitlin Saville.”

The woman’s head came up, curiosity flaring briefly in her blue eyes. “Of course. One moment, please.” She rose from her wheeled desk chair.

“Thanks,” Kaitlin whispered to Lindsay, as the receptionist walked down the hallway that stretched behind her desk. “I knew you’d come in handy.”

“I’ll send you a bill,” Lindsay responded in an undertone.

“No, you won’t.” Kaitlin knew her friend better than that. Lindsay had never charged her for anything in her life.

“Ten minutes from now, you’ll be able to afford me,” Lindsay joked.

“Send Zach the bill,” Kaitlin suggested, a nervous sense of excitement forming in her belly. If this worked. If it actually worked …

“Will do,” Lindsay promised.

The receptionist returned, a practiced, professional smile on her face. “Right this way, please.”

She led them past a few closed doors to the end of the hallway where a set of double doors stood open on a big, bright, burgundy-carpeted room.

She gestured them inside, and Kaitlin entered first.

If she thought Zach had looked impressive standing in her apartment last week, it was nothing compared to what his office did for him. The fine surroundings reeked of power, and he was obviously in his element.

His big desk was walnut with inset cherry panels. A matching credenza and hutch were accented with cherry wood drawers, and a bookcase opposite showcased leather-bound volumes and nautical carvings. The desk chair was also leather, and high-backed with carved wood arms. Two guest chairs flanked the front of his desk, while a meeting table stood in an arched window alcove.

As Kaitlin crossed the thick carpet, Zach came to his feet. As usual, he wore a perfectly pressed, incredibly well-cut suit. His usual white shirt was crisp and bright. The necktie was gold this time, with a subtle silver thread that picked up the sunlight.

“Thank you, Amy.” He nodded to the receptionist, who closed the doors as she left the room.

His gaze flicked to Lindsay and he quirked a questioning brow in her direction.

“My lawyer,” Kaitlin explained to him. “Lindsay Rubin.”

“Please sit down.” Zach gestured to the leather guest chairs.

But Kaitlin chose to remain standing. “I’ll sign your papers,” she told him.

Zach’s glance went back to Lindsay, then returned to Kaitlin. The barest hint of a smile twitched his full lips, and there was a definite flare of relief in his gray eyes.

“But I want two things,” Kaitlin continued.

Though she knew she ought to enjoy this, she was far too nervous to get any pleasure out of watching him sweat.

This had to work.

It simply had to.

Zach’s brow furrowed, and she could almost feel him calculating dollar figures inside his head.

“One—” she counted on her fingers, struggling to keep a quaver from forming in her voice “—our marriage stays secret.” If people found out she was married to Zach, the professional credential of renovating his building would mean less than nothing. The entire city would chalk it up to their personal relationship.

“Two,” she continued, “you give me a job. Renovation design director, or some similar title.”

His eyes narrowed. “You want a job?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

He appeared genuinely puzzled. “Why?”

“I’ll need an office and some support staff while I finish planning the renovations to your building. Since you already have those things available here …”

He was silent for a full three seconds. “I’m offering you money, not a job.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Kaitlin—”

She squared her shoulders. “This is not negotiable, Zach. I get free rein, carte blanche. I do your renovation, my way, and—”

He leaned forward, tenting his fingers on the polished desktop. “Not a hope in hell.”

“Excuse me?”

They glared at each other for a drawn-out second while a thousand emotions skittered along her nervous system.

He was intimidating. He was also undeniably arousing. He was both her problem and her solution. And she was terrified this chance would somehow slip through her fingers.

Then Lindsay spoke up, her voice haughty and authoritarian as she stepped into the conversation. “You should know, Mr. Harper, that I’ve provided Ms. Saville with a copy of Sadie Harper’s will, as filed with the probate court.”

The room went to dead silent.

Nobody moved, and nobody breathed.

Kaitlin forced herself to straighten to her full height. She crossed her arms over her chest, letting his stunned expression boost her confidence.

“I’ll divorce you, Zach,” she told him. “I’ll sign the entire company over to you. Just as soon as I have my career back.”

His furious gaze settled on Kaitlin. His tone turned incredulous. “You’re blackmailing me?”

Sweat prickled her hairline, anxiety peaking within her. “I’m making you a deal.”

Several beats ticked by in thick silence, while her stomach churned with anxiety.

His expression barely changed. But finally, he gave a single, curt nod.

Her heart clunked deep in her chest, while a wave of relief washed coolly over her skin.

She’d done it.

She’d bought herself a second chance.

She doubted Zach would ever forgive her. But she couldn’t let herself care about that. All that mattered was she was back on the job.

From beneath the stained concrete porch of the Harper Transportation building, Kaitlin stared at the rain pounding down on Liberty Street. It was the end of her first full day of work, and her nerves had given way to a cautious optimism.

Zach hadn’t made her feel particularly welcome, but she did have a desk, a cubbyhole of a windowless office, with a drafting table and a bent filing cabinet. And, though other staff members seemed confused by the sudden change in the renovation project, one of the administrative assistants had introduced her around and offered to help out.

Kaitlin inhaled the moist May air. Fat raindrops were splashing on the concrete steps, forming puddles and rivulets on the pavement below. She glanced at the gray sky and gauged the distance to the subway staircase in the next block. She wished she’d checked the weather report this morning and tossed an umbrella into her bag.

“I trust you found everything you need?” Zach’s deep voice held a mocking edge behind her.

Kaitlin twisted, taking in his towering height and strong profile against the backdrop of his historic building. She was forced to remind herself that she was in the driver’s seat in this circumstance. She should make him nervous, not the other way around.

“Could you have found me a smaller office?” she asked, attempting to go on the offensive. He was obviously making some kind of a point by relegating her to a closet. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was attempting to put her in her place.

“Haven’t you heard?” His mouth flexed in a cool half smile, confirming her suspicions. “We’re renovating.”

“I notice your office is plenty roomy,” she persisted, hoping to give him at least a twinge of guilt.

“That’s because I own the company.” His expression hinted that he also owned a decent portion of the world.

She arched a meaningful brow in his direction, feeling a little more in control when his expression wavered. “So do I,” she pointed out.

Her victory was short-lived.

“You want me to evict a vice president for you?” Left unsaid was the understanding that while he could easily give her special treatment, they both knew it would raise questions amongst the staff, potentially compromising her desire to keep their personal relationship a secret.

“You have nothing between the executive floor and a closet?” Of course, the last thing she wanted to do was call attention to herself. He had to treat her no better and no worse than any other employee. Right now, it certainly appeared he was treating her worse.

“Take your pick,” Zach offered with a careless shrug. “I’ll kick someone out.”

Kaitlin hiked up her shoulder bag. “And they’ll know it’s me.”

“You do own the company,” he drawled.

She rolled her eyes. “Just treat me like you would anyone else.”

“That seems unlikely.” He nodded to a shiny, black late-model town car cruising up to the curb. “Can I give you a lift?”

She slid him an incredulous glance. He had to be kidding.

“Hop into the boss’s car after my first day of work?” Right. That would work well to keep her under the radar.

“You afraid people will get the wrong idea?”

“I’m afraid they’ll get the right idea.”

His mouth quirked again. “I have some papers you need to sign.”

The rain wasn’t letting up, but she took a tentative step forward, muttering under her breath. “No divorce yet, Mr. Harper.”

He stepped into the rain beside her, keeping pace, his voice going low as hers. “They’re not divorce papers, Mrs. Harper.”

The title on his lips gave her a jolt. She’d spent the day trying to forget about their circumstances and focus on getting started at her job. But she was beginning to realize forgetting their circumstances was going to be nearly impossible.

They were married, married.

She tipped her head, surreptitiously taking in his profile, the dark eyes, the furrowed brow and the small scar on his right cheekbone. She tried to imagine an intimate relationship, where they joked and touched and—

“Kaitlin?”

She gave herself a firm mental shake, telling herself to get control. “What kind of papers?”

He glanced around, obviously confirming a sufficient buffer of space between them and the other Harper employees heading out the doors. “Confirmation of my positions as the president and CEO.”

“What are you now?”

“President and CEO.” His gunmetal eyes were as dark and impenetrable as the storm clouds. He was not a man who easily gave away his emotions. “There’s been a change in the company ownership,” he explained.

It took a moment for the enormity of his words to sink in. Without her signature, his position in the company was in jeopardy. He couldn’t do what he’d always done, and he couldn’t be who he’d always been, without her consent on paper.

Something hard and cold slid though her stomach.

It wasn’t right that she had this kind of power. All she wanted was to do her job. She didn’t want to have to sift through her confusing feelings for Zach. And she sure didn’t want to have to analyze the circumstances and decide if they were fair.

They weren’t. But then neither was the alternative.

“Get in the car, Kaitlin,” he told her. “We need to get this signed and settled.”

She couldn’t help but note the stream of employees exiting from the building. Even as they dashed down the rainy steps, most of them glanced curiously at Zach. Climbing into his car in full view of a dozen coworkers was out of the question.

She leaned slightly closer, muffling her voice. “Pick me up on Grove, past the bus stop.”

He gave a subtle but unmistakable eye roll. “You don’t think that’s a bit cloak-and-dagger?”

“I’m trying to blend,” she reminded him. Her plan to rescue her career would come to a screeching halt if people had any inkling that she had some leverage over Zach.

“You’ll get soaked,” he warned her.

A little water was the least of her worries.

Well, except for what it would do to her shoes. They’d been on sale, her only pair of Strantas. She loved what they did for her legs, and they looked great with anything black.

She braced herself, mentally plotting a path around the worst of the scattered puddles.

“Have a nice evening, Mr. Harper,” she called loud enough for passersby to hear as she trotted down the stairs.

She made her way along the sidewalk, surging with the crowd toward the traffic light at the corner. When it turned green, she paced across the street, avoiding numerous black umbrellas in her path and hopping over the gurgle of water flowing against the opposite curb.

On the other side, she negotiated her way to the edge of the sidewalk, raking her wet hair back from her forehead and tucking it behind her ears. She swiped a few raindrops from her nose then extracted her cell phone, pressing the speed dial as she hustled toward the bus stop shelter.

“Kaitlin?” came Lindsay’s breathless voice.

“What are you doing?”

“Riding the bike.”

Kaitlin pictured Lindsay on the stationary bike crammed into the small living space of her loft. “I’m going to be late for dinner.”

“What’s going on?” Lindsay huffed.

As she wove her way through the wet crowd, Kaitlin lowered her voice to mock doom. “I’m about to get into a big black car with Zach Harper.”

“Better send me the license plate number.”

Kaitlin cracked a grin, comforted by Lindsay’s familiar sense of humor. The two women had known each other so long, they were almost always on the same wavelength. “I’ll text it to you.”

A deep, classic-rock bass resonated in the background. A fixture whenever Lindsay exercised. “Why are you getting in his car?”

“He wants me to sign something.”

“Better let me read it first.”

“I will if it looks complicated,” Kaitlin promised. “He says it’s to reconfirm him as president and CEO.” Not that she trusted everything Zach said. In fact, thus far, she trusted exactly nothing of what Zach said.

“It could be a trick,” Lindsay warned.

Kaitlin grinned into the phone. “There is yet another reason I love you.”

“I’ve got your back. Seriously, Katie, if you see the words irreconcilable or absolute I want you to run the other way.”

“Will do.” Kaitlin caught sight of the black car. “Oops. There he is. Gotta go.”

“Call me when you’re done. I want details. And dinner.” There was a gasp in Lindsay’s voice. “I definitely still want dinner.”

“I’ll call,” Kaitlin agreed, folding her phone and tucking it into the pocket of her purse as Zach swung open the back door of his car and hopped out onto the sidewalk next to her.

He flipped up the collar of his gray overcoat and gestured her inside. She gathered her own wet coat around her and ducked to climb in.

“Lunatic,” he muttered under his breath.

“Lucky for you we’re not having children,” she said over her shoulder as she settled into the seat.

“Lucky for me we’re not buying plants.” He firmly shut the door behind her before walking around the vehicle to get in behind the driver.

She shook the rainwater from her fingertips, smoothing her soaked jacket and frowning at her soggy bag. “Green and Stafford in Yorkville,” she said to the driver, getting an unwelcome glimpse of herself in the side mirror.

“The penthouse, Henry,” Zach corrected.

“You’re not dropping me off?” She wasn’t sure why his bad manners surprised her. Zach was all about his own convenience. His minions obviously didn’t factor in on his radar.

“Henry will take you home later,” he said.

Later? She raised her brow in a question.

“The papers are at my penthouse.”

Of course they were. Having the papers available in the car would be far too simple. Resigned, she plunked her bag into her lap and gave up on trying to repair her look. She was a mess, and that was that.

“Don’t you worry about inconveniencing me,” she drawled. “It’s not like I have a life.”

Henry pulled into the snarl of traffic heading for Liberty and Wildon, while Zach sent her a speculative, sidelong glance. “Stroke of a pen gets you out of this any old time you want.”

She determinedly shook her head. Much as she’d love to sever both their marital and business ties, if she let him off the hook, the man would fire her in the blink of an eye.

He leaned back in the leather seat, angling his body so that he faced her. “What if I promised you could keep your job?”

Rain rattled harder on the car’s sunroof, while the wipers slapped their way across the windshield, blurring the view of the street.

Kaitlin made a half turn in the seat, meeting Zach’s dark eyes. “That would require me trusting you.”

“You can trust me,” he assured her.

She coughed out a laugh. “You ruined my life.”

He frowned. “I made you a very wealthy woman.”

“I don’t want to be a wealthy woman.”

“I say again. You can get out of this anytime you want.”

She made a show of glancing around the interior of the car. “Is there some way to exit this conversation?” she asked him. “Or does it just keep circling the drain?”

Horns honked in the lanes beside them as Henry inched his way through a left-hand turn. Kaitlin swiped at her damp, tangled hair, resisting an urge to slip off her soggy shoes and wiggle her toes into the thick carpet.

“You’re going to find it very inconvenient being my business partner,” Zach warned.

She cocked her head, watching him as she spoke. “Because you’ll go out of your way to make it hell?”

He resettled himself in the butter-soft seat. “And here I thought I was being subtle.”

“This is fifty pages long.” Standing in the middle of Zach’s penthouse living room, Kaitlin frowned as she leafed her way through the document.

“It deals with control of a multimillion-dollar corporation,” he returned with what he hoped resembled patience. “We could hardly jot it down on a cocktail napkin.”

Though he’d had a few days to come to terms with this bizarre twist in his life, Zach was still chafing at the circumstance. He didn’t want to have to justify anything about Harper Transportation to Kaitlin, even temporarily. His grandma Sadie had complete faith in him—at least he’d always thought she’d had complete faith in him. He’d never had to explain anything about the company to her. He’d basically been running the show for over a decade.

But now there was Kaitlin. And she was underfoot. And she had questions. And he could only imagine what kind of monstrosity he’d be left with for an office building.

Dylan had pointed out yesterday that appeasing Kaitlin was better than losing half his company. Maybe it was. But barely.

“I’ll need to have my lawyer look at this,” Kaitlin announced, reaching down to pull open her oversize shoulder bag in order to deposit the document inside.

“Give it a read before you decide,” Zach cajoled through halfgritted teeth. “It’s not Greek.” He pointed. “You and I sign page three, authorizing the board of directors. The board members have already signed page twenty, confirming my positions. The rest is … well, read it. You’ll see.”

She hesitated, peering at him with suspicion. But after a moment, she sighed, dropping her bag onto his sofa. “Fine. I’ll take a look.”

He tried not to cringe as her wet purse hit the white leather cushion of his new, designer Fendi.

“Your coat?” he offered instead, holding out his hands to accept it. The coat he’d hang safely in his hall closet before she had a chance to drape it over his ironwood table.

She slipped out of the dripping rain jacket, revealing a clingy, black-and-burgundy, knee-length dress. It had capped sleeves, a scooped neck and a pencil-straight skirt that flowed down to her shapely legs, which were clad in black stockings. Damp as they were, her high heels accentuated slim ankles and gorgeous calves.

Though they’d spoken briefly at the office this morning, she’d been wearing her coat at the time. He’d had no idea what was hidden beneath. Just as well he hadn’t had that image inside his brain all day long.

“Thank you,” she acknowledged, handing him the coat.

“I’m … uh …” He pointed in the general direction of the hallway and the kitchen, making his escape before she noticed he was ogling her body with his mouth hanging open.

In the kitchen, he found that his housekeeper had left a note informing him there was salad and a chicken dish in the fridge. She’d also left a bottle of Cabernet on the breakfast bar. Zach automatically reached for the corkscrew, breathing through the dueling emotions of frustration and arousal.

Sure, Kaitlin was an attractive woman. He knew that. He’d known that from the minute he met her. But there were attractive women everywhere. He didn’t have to fixate on her.

He popped the cork.

No. No reason at all for him to fixate on her.

In fact, maybe he should get himself a date. A date would distract him. He’d been working too hard lately, that was all. A date with another, equally attractive woman would nip this fascination with Kaitlin in the bud.

He reached for the crystal glasses hanging from the rack below the cabinet.

Dylan had offered to introduce him to his newest helicopter pilot. He’d said she was attractive and athletic. She was a Yankees fan, but he could probably live with that. And she had a master’s degree in art history. Who didn’t like art history?

Before Zach realized what he’d done, he’d filled two glasses with wine.

“Oh, hell.”

Then again, he supposed the woman deserved a drink. If she signed the papers, they’d toast the accomplishment. If she refused to sign, maybe the wine would loosen her up, and he could take another stab at convincing her.

He shrugged out of his suit jacket, moving farther down the hallway to the master bedroom. There, he hung the jacket in his closet, shed his tie and glanced in the mirror above his dresser.

He definitely needed a shave. And his white shirt was wrinkled from being worn all day.

He glanced once at the jacket and considered putting it back on. But common sense prevailed. Instead, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. If this was a date, he’d shave and redress. But it wasn’t a date. And his looks would be the last thing on Kaitlin’s mind.

More comfortable, he returned to the kitchen and retrieved the wineglasses. He moved down the hallway to the living room. Inside the doorway, he paused.

Kaitlin seemed to have made herself at home. She’d kicked off her strappy shoes and curled her legs beneath her, knees bent and pressed together, stocking-clad feet pushing up against the arm of his sofa. Her hair was drying to a wild, glossy halo that framed her smooth skin. And her face was a study in concentration, red lips pursed, green eyes slightly squinted as she read her way through the pages.

She looked good in his living room, somehow settled and at home.

Funny, he’d seen her dressed up, dressed down, dancing with laughter and crackling with anger. But he’d never caught her unaware. And somehow he had the feeling this was the real woman, halfway between Vegas glitter and Saturday casual, her energy turned inward, mind working. He sensed a calm intelligence in her that he hadn’t noticed before.

He must have moved, because she finally noticed him.

“Wine?” he offered, raising one of the glasses, walking forward, pretending he hadn’t been staring.

“You’re right,” she told him, letting the papers drop into her lap, stretching an arm across the back of the sofa in an obviously unintended, sensual gesture.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.” But there was no bite to his words. He’d meant to mock her, but it came off as a gentle joke.

She flipped the document back to the first page and set it in front of her on the coffee table. “I’ll sign it.”

“Really?” Too late, he realized he sounded surprised. To cover, he handed her the glass of wine.

She accepted the glass and shrugged. “It’s exactly what you said it was.”

“How about that,” he couldn’t help but tease.

“Shocked the heck out of me,” she returned, doing a double take, seeming to note he’d shed the jacket and tie.

He sat down on the other end of the couch. “Then, cheers.” He lifted his glass.

She allowed a small smile, which made her prettier than ever. She leaned toward him, holding out her glass to clink it against his. The motion gave him a glimpse of her cleavage, and he was forced to drag his gaze away from her soft breasts.

They each took a sip.

Then her smile grew, and an impish dimple appeared in her right cheek. “Tough day at the office, dear?” She mimicked what was obviously a wifely voice of concern.

Something inside him responded warmly to the banter. “You know—” he paused for effect “—the usual.”

“Is this weird?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yes.”

“Because it feels weird. I mean, on a scale of one to, well, weird, it’s weird.”

“Did that make sense inside your head?”

She took another drink, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m sure you got the gist of it.”

“I did. And I agree. It’s weird.”

“We’re married.” She said the words in a tone of wonder.

“Yes, we are.” Zach took a healthy swig from his own glass. He’d never been married. And even if he had, he couldn’t help but doubt anything could prepare a man for this particular situation.

She paused, and then her voice went soft. “I’m not trying to ruin your life, you know.”

He didn’t like it that she seemed so vulnerable. It was better when she was acting tough and feisty. Then, it was easier to view her as a combatant. And he was beginning to admit fighting with Kaitlin was much safer than joking with her.

He struggled to put a hard note back in his voice. “I guess it was the blackmail scheme that had me confused.”

Her green eyes were clear, open and honest. “I’m not looking to gain anything.”

He made a show of skeptically raising his brows.

“I’m looking to set things right,” she assured him.

He tried to sound doubtful. “Is that how this is playing out inside your head?”

“Once I’ve earned my way back into the good graces of my profession, you’ll be home free. I want a career, Zach, not your company.”

He had to admit, he believed her. He understood she was trying to make her own life better. Her methods weren’t the most noble from where he was standing. But he did accept the fact that he was collateral damage.

She leaned forward and flipped to the signature page of the document. “Do you have a pen?”

“Sure.” He rose and crossed to the small rosewood desk that held a telephone and a reading lamp.

“I’m meeting Lindsay for dinner,” Kaitlin explained from behind him. “I don’t want to be too late.”

“I have a date,” he lied, extracting a pen from the small desk drawer. He’d call Dylan and get the number of the pretty helicopter pilot just as soon as Kaitlin left.

“You’re cheating on me?”

Her outburst surprised him, but when he turned, he saw the laughter lurking in her jade-green eyes.

“Yes,” he answered easily, not about to rise to the bait. “I’ve been cheating on you since the wedding.”

“Men,” she huffed in pretend disgust, folding her arms across her chest, accenting her breasts.

Focusing beyond her lovely figure, he shrugged an apology on behalf of his gender as he crossed the room. “What can I say?”

She accepted the pen, bending her head to sign the papers. “Well, I’ve been faithful.”

He waited for the punch line.

It didn’t come.

“Seriously?” he asked.

She finished her signature with a flourish, declining to answer.

But he couldn’t let it go. “You haven’t had sex with anybody since Vegas?”

“What do you mean since Vegas.” She sat up straight, handing the pen back in his direction. “Who do you think I had sex with in Vegas?”

He accepted it, feeling a twinge of remorse. “I didn’t mean it that—”

“The only person I was with in Vegas was you and we didn’t—” The amusement suddenly fled her eyes, replaced by uncertainty. “We, uh, didn’t, did we?”

Okay, this was interesting. “You don’t remember?” He might not have total recall of the entire night’s events. But he knew they hadn’t made love.

Then the vulnerability was back, and she slowly shook her head. “I barely remember the wedding.”

He was tempted to string her along, but quickly changed his mind. The cursed vulnerability again. It made him want to protect her, not mess with her mind.

“We didn’t,” he assured her.

She tilted her head to one side. “Are you sure? Do you remember every minute?”

Their gazes locked for a couple of heartbeats.

“I’d remember that.”

“So, you can’t say for sure …”

“Has this been bothering you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Because it sounds like—”

Suddenly, she snagged her bag and hooked it over her shoulder, coming to her feet. “It’s not bothering me. If we did it, we did it.”

“We didn’t.” Not that he hadn’t wanted to. Not that he wouldn’t love to. Not that he wasn’t still—

Damn it. He had to stop going there.

“Because I’m not pregnant or anything,” she said, slipping into her sexy shoes and straightening her clingy dress. The action pulled it tighter against her lithe body, and it was more than he could do not to let his gaze take a tour.

He summoned his strength. “Kaitlin. I think we need to leave Vegas back in Vegas.”

“We tried.”

That was true.

“But it didn’t work,” she pointed out.

“Blame Elvis,” he drawled, fixing his gaze firmly on her face and telling himself to leave it right there.

Her smile grew. “You’re funnier than you let on, you know?”

He gritted his teeth against her softening expression, those lips, those eyes, that tousled hair. It would be so easy to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

But for the first time in his life, he ignored the powerful urge.

“Thanks for signing the papers,” he offered gruffly.

“Thanks for giving me a job.”

The specter of her previous designs appeared inside his head. He didn’t know what he’d do if she insisted on resurrecting them.

Now might not be the time. Then again, now might be the perfect time. They seemed to have come to a truce. Maybe he should take advantage of it.

“You know that building has been in my family for five generations,” he declared.

“That doesn’t mean it can’t look good.”

“There are a lot of different ways to make it look good.” Classic ways. Functional ways. They were a transportation company, for goodness’ sake, not an art museum.

He wished he could interest her in using the Hugo Rosche plans as a jumping-off point. Hugo had taken over after he’d canceled Hutton Quinn. Zach had paid a penalty to get out of the contract. But Hugo had left on good terms with a reference and several prospective clients set up by Zach. Hugo’s plans made the most of the existing layout, and they’d only take about six months to implement.

“And I’m going to find the best one,” she breezily promised. Her bravado frightened him.

“It’s my heritage you’re playing with, you know.” Her expression faltered for a split second, something close to pain flitting through her eyes. But she recovered instantly, and the confidence returned. “Then, you’re a very lucky man, Zach Harper. Because I’m going to make your heritage a whole lot better.”

Three

The following week, Kaitlin and Lindsay made their way into the bright pool of sunshine on the roof of the Harper Transportation building. The cement was solid beneath Kaitlin’s feet, and the building seemed to fit seamlessly into its surroundings. Modern high-rises towered over on two sides, while across Liberty, they studied a row of dignified—if chipped—lion statues, and looked farther to the river.

The roof was square, blocked on one side by the service level and staircase. It was bordered by a three-foot-high concrete wall. Years of rain had stained it, but the mottled color evoked a certain nobility. Kaitlin couldn’t help wonder what it would be like to work under the same roof as five generations of your ancestors.

Her mother had died when she was born. Her father was “unknown,” not even a name on a birth certificate. And if nineteen-year-old Yvette Saville had had relatives somewhere nobody ever found them. All Kaitlin had of her own heritage was a single, frayed and blurry photo of her mother, and the address of the rooming house where Yvette had been living prior to Kaitlin’s birth.

While her anger and frustration toward Zach had diminished as the days went by, she couldn’t seem to fight off the spurt of jealousy that bubbled up when she thought about his heritage. He’d had such a safe and privileged upbringing. While she was on the outside looking in, he’d been wrapped in the loving embrace of his wealthy family, wanting for nothing, experiencing the finest life had to offer.

“Explain to me again why we couldn’t go straight to Rundall’s for lunch?” called Lindsay. She’d fallen behind in her higher heels and straight skirt.

“See that?” Kaitlin turned to walk backward, banishing her negative thoughts as she swept her arm, pointing toward the deep blue Hudson River. “If I can get a permit to add three stories, the view will be amazing.”

A steady hum of traffic rose up to meet them, while barges slipped by against the tree-dotted New Jersey shoreline.

“Will that be expensive?” asked Lindsay, as she picked her way across the rough surface, steadying herself against a mechanical box, then an air-conditioning unit.

“Wildly,” said Kaitlin, picturing the expanse of glass and the marble floors.

Lindsay flashed a wide grin as she came abreast of Kaitlin near the edge of the roof. “That’s my girl. Not that Harper will ever notice. The man has more money than God.”

“It would seem,” Kaitlin agreed, thinking back to the fine art and antiques that decorated his huge penthouse apartment.

“I’ve been checking,” said Lindsay in a conspiratorial tone, swiping back her stray blond hairs in the freshening breeze. “Did you know it started with the pirates?”

“What started with pirates?” Kaitlin peered over the edge to the busy street below. She wished she had a scaffolding so she could see exactly how the view would look if they went up three stories.

“The Harper family wealth,” Lindsay said. “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum. Pirates.”

Kaitlin stretched up on her toes, shading her eyes against the brilliant sun. “I’m sure that’s just a rumor.”

New York City was full of colorful stories of countless founding families. Most of them were concocted by the families themselves to add social cachet and impress their friends. The Harpers could just as easily have been former potato farmers who arrived in the city from Idaho in 1910. Perhaps they’d sold something as mundane as farmland and crops to buy their first boat and start Harper Transportation.

“Of course it’s a rumor,” Lindsay pointed out. “It happened three hundred years ago. It’s not like they have videotape.”

Kaitlin cracked a smile at her friend’s faux outrage. “Are you suggesting I’ve inherited tainted money?”

“I’m suggesting the man you’re blackmailing was descended from thieves and murderers.”

“Does that scare you?” Zach didn’t scare Kaitlin anymore.

Well, not much. She was still intimidated by his angry glare. And she was definitely unsettled by the sexual awareness that bloomed to life whenever he strode by. It was becoming a regular part of her workday: email, coffee, drafting, Zach. Then boom, buzz, all she could think about was kissing him.

“Hell, no,” Lindsay assured her. “I’m just sayin’ you should watch out for his sword.”

Kaitlin waggled her finger at Lindsay in admonishment. “That’s a terrible joke.”

Lindsay peered closer. “Are you blushing?”

“No,” Kaitlin answered with a shake of her head, switching her attention to the steel gray barge plodding up the river.

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“Sure you did.”

Lindsay leaned forward to get a better view of Kaitlin’s face. “You are blushing. What did I miss?”

“Nothing. I’ve barely seen him in three days.”

Okay, so she’d seen him from afar, more than a few times. And he looked good from that distance—no frowns, no scowls. Her reaction to him was becoming almost comically predictable. Her pulse rate would jump. Her skin would heat up. And she’d lose her train of thought.

“Are you falling for him?” asked Lindsay.

Kaitlin started to speak, but then stopped, unwilling to lie to Lindsay. “I’m admiring his features from afar,” she admitted. “Along with half of the city.”

Zach was an undeniably attractive man. So she found him good-looking? Big deal. So she occasionally found him charming? Another big deal.

He had breeding and education, and plenty of practice at dating and small talk. If she forgot about the fact that he’d tried to ruin her life, she could almost pretend he was a decent guy.

“He does make a hot pirate,” Lindsay concurred with a saucy grin.

“Hot” definitely described the way he’d looked that night at his penthouse, his tie off, sleeves rolled up, a day’s growth of beard shadowing his chin. He’d looked every inch the rakish pirate of his ancestors. And it had been more than sexy.

Lindsay was watching her closely. “Promise me you’ll keep your head in the game.”

Kaitlin tucked her loose hair firmly behind her ears, taking a quick check of her diamond stud earring. “My head is completely in the game,” she assured Lindsay.

There wouldn’t be a repeat of Vegas. Kaitlin had slipped up that night. She’d let down her guard, and Zach had turned on her within the week.

Apparently satisfied, Lindsay eased forward to peer over the edge. Taxis, buses and delivery trucks cruised past. Three city workers in hard hats set barriers up around an open manhole, while a police cruiser, lights flashing blue and red, pulled halfway up on the wide sidewalk.

“So, have you started unpacking yet?” asked Lindsay.

“Nope.” Kaitlin watched two uniformed cops stride into a deli. She was more than happy to leave the topic of Zach behind. “I’m going to take advantage of having everything out of the way. Clean the carpets and paint the walls.”

“Nesting?” asked Lindsay.

“Yes, I am.” When she gave herself time to think about staying put in New York City, Kaitlin felt a surge of relief lighten her shoulders. She’d curled up in her window seat yesterday evening with a cup of cocoa, simply staring for an hour at the bustle of the neighborhood.

“You deserve a great place to call home,” said Lindsay, warmth and caring evident in her tone.

Kaitlin smiled her agreement. “I may even buy that new rocker.” She’d been admiring a big, overstuffed gliding rocker in the window of a local furniture store for a few months now. Something about it said home.

“You?” Lindsay teased. “A frivolous expenditure?”

Kaitlin nodded with conviction. With no means of support other than her part-time job, she’d been forced to be frugal during her college years. The habit was hard to break. But she was gainfully employed now, and she had good prospects. And she was determined to make herself a real home.

“First the rocker,” she explained to Lindsay. “And then the Prestige espresso machine.”

“I love hearing you talk like that.” Lindsay laughed.

“It feels pretty good,” Kaitlin admitted, then her voice caught on her age-old sensation of loneliness. “I can make it a real home.”

Lindsay linked her arm and nudged up against her. “You’ve already made it a real home.”

It didn’t feel like a real home to Kaitlin. Then again, how would she know? Over her childhood years, most of her placements had been in group facilities instead of with families. The workers were mostly kind, but they came and went in shifts, and they often moved on to other jobs, replaced by new people, who were also nice, but also employees, not a family.

Lindsay gave her a squeeze, obviously recognizing that Kaitlin was getting emotional. “You ready for lunch?”

“Sure thing.” There was no point in dwelling on the past. She was staying in New York City, and that was a great thing. The rocker would make a difference, she was sure of it. Maybe she’d get a cat, a calico or a black-and-white gerbil. A pet would make things that much more homey.

With one last look around, she followed Lindsay inside. They locked the rooftop door and took the aging elevator back to the third floor and Kaitlin’s small office.

“There you are.” Zach’s greeting from inside the office sounded vaguely like an accusation.

“What are you doing here?” Kaitlin’s guard immediately went up. She suspiciously scanned the room, the deck, the bookshelf, her computer, checking to see if anything had been disturbed. She’d put a password on her laptop, and she was keeping the preliminary renovation drawings under lock and key.

She’d made Zach promise to give her carte blanche on the project. But she still feared, given half a chance, he would try to micromanage it. She wasn’t planning on giving him half a chance.

“I have something to show you,” he announced from where he stood behind her tilted drafting table.

She saw that he’d rolled out a set of blue line drawings. She moved forward to get a better view. “Those aren’t mine.”

“They’re something Hugo Rosche put together,” he responded.

Kaitlin slipped between the desk and drafting table, while Lindsay waited in the doorway of the cramped office. Kaitlin stopped shoulder-to-shoulder with Zach, and he moved closer up against the wall.

“What’s different than how it is now?” she asked, moving through the pages, noting that a few walls had been relocated. The lobby had been slightly expanded, and new windows were sketched in on the first floor.

“We’d also repaint, recarpet and get a decorator,” said Zach.

She glanced up at him, searching his expression. “Is this a joke?”

He frowned at her.

“Because, I mean, if it’s a joke, ha-ha.” She dropped the pages back into place.

He looked affronted. “It’s not a joke.”

She gestured to the sheets of paper. “You’re not seriously suggesting I use these.”

“We don’t need to make massive changes in order to improve the building,” he insisted.

“I’m not a decorator, Zach. I’m an architect.”

“Being an architect doesn’t mean you need to tear down walls for the sake of tearing down walls.”

She turned and propped her butt against the side of the desk, folding her arms over her chest and facing him head on. “Did you seriously think I’d fall for this?” Because if he had, he was delusional.

He lifted his chin. “I thought you’d at least consider it.”

“I just considered it. I don’t like it.”

“Thank you so much for keeping such an open mind.”

“Thank you so much for bringing me a fait accompli.”

“I paid good money for these plans.” He snagged the bottom of the sheets and began to roll them up. His voice rose, the offense clear in his tone. “And I paid good money for your original plans. And now I’m paying a third time for the same work.”

Lindsay shifted forward, stepping fully into the room. “Would you prefer to fire Kaitlin and meet us in court?”

Zach’s steel gaze shot her way.

He glared at her briefly, then returned his attention to Kaitlin. “I thought you could use them as a starting point.”

Kaitlin shrugged. “Okay,” she said easily.

His hands stilled. He drew back, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Then he paused and asked, “You will?”

She shrugged again. “Since they’re virtually identical to the existing building, I’ve already used them as a starting point.”

Lindsay coughed a surprised laugh.

Zach came back to life, snapping an elastic band around the paper roll, while Kaitlin hopped out of his way.

“It’s my backup plan,” Zach said to Dylan. It was Sunday afternoon, and the two men maneuvered their way through the crowded rotunda at Citi Field toward a Mets game. If there was one thing he’d learned from both his father and from Dylan’s dad, it was that your contingencies had to have contingencies. Plans failed all the time. An intelligent man was prepared for failure.

Dylan counted on his fingers. “Plan A was to buy her off. Plan B was getting her to agree to the Hugo Rosche drawings. Low percentage on that one working, by the way.” He skirted a trash can. “And now Plan C is to find her a new job?”

Zach didn’t disagree on the Rosche drawings. It had been a long shot that she’d agree to use them. But finding her a new job could easily work. It was a well thought out strategy.

“She said it herself,” he explained. “Her long-term goal is to get a good job. She wants her career back on track. And I don’t blame her. Thing is, it doesn’t have to be my building. It could be any building.”

“She wants to stay in New York City,” Dylan confirmed.

“New York City is a very big place. There are plenty of buildings to renovate.”

“So, you invited her to the game, because …?”

That was another element of Zach’s plan. “Because she was wearing a Mets T-shirt that day at her apartment. It turns out, she’s a fan.”

“And odds are she’s never watched a game from a Sterling Suite,” Dylan elaborated.

“I’m betting she hasn’t,” said Zach as he came to a stop near the escalator, glancing around for Kaitlin and Lindsay. “It works exceedingly well on Fortune 500 execs. Besides, my project is temporary. If I can find her a solid offer with a good firm, then she’s got something permanent.”

“And in order to accept the offer, she’ll have to quit your project.”

“Exactly.” Zach couldn’t help but smile at his own genius.

Dylan, on the other hand, had a skeptical expression on his face. “Good luck with that.”

“Here she is,” Zach announced in a loud voice, sending Dylan a quick warning glance.

The plan was perfectly sound. But it would take some finesse. He wouldn’t try to sell her on the idea of a new job right away. Today, he only wanted to smooth the path, get a little closer to her. He’d let her know he was interested in a good outcome for both of them. No reason they had to be at odds.

Next week, he’d make a few calls, talk to a few associates, field offers for her.

Kaitlin broke her way through the escalator lineup and angled toward them.

His mood lifted at the sight of her, and he recognized the danger in that hormonal reaction. It didn’t mean he had a hope in hell of changing it. But it did mean he needed to be careful, keep his emotions in check and hold himself at a distance.

She was wearing a snug white T-shirt, faded formfitting blue jeans, scuffed white sneakers and a blue-and-orange Mets cap with a jaunty ponytail sticking out the back. He’d never had a girl-next-door thing, preferring glitz and glamour in his dates. But it didn’t seem to matter what Kaitlin wore. She’d be his fantasy girl in a bathrobe.

Damn. He had to shut that image down right now.

Her friend Lindsay was a half pace behind her. She had topped a pair of black jeans with a white sleeveless blouse.

They came to a halt.

“Dylan,” Zach said, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Kaitlin, “meet Kaitlin Saville and Lindsay Rubin.”

“The lovely bride,” Dylan teased Kaitlin, and Zach tensed at the edgy joke.

“The pirate,” Lindsay countered with a low laugh, smoothly inserting herself between Dylan and Kaitlin, then shaking his hand.

“Zach’s the pirate,” Dylan informed her, a practiced smile masking his annoyance at what he considered an insulting label.

“I’ve been studying Zach’s family history,” Lindsay countered. “And I also came across yours.”

“Why don’t we head this way.” Zach gestured toward the elevator. He didn’t want an argument to mar the day. Plus, the game was about to start.

Kaitlin followed his lead, and she fell into step beside him.

“A pirate?” she asked him in what sounded like a teasing voice.

That was encouraging.

“So I’m told,” he admitted.

“Well, that explains a lot.”

Before Zach could ask her to elaborate, Lindsay’s voice interrupted from behind. “It seems Caldwell Gilby cut a swath through the Spanish Main, plundering gold, ammunition and rum.”

Zach could well imagine Dylan’s affronted expression. The sparks were about to fly. But he had to admit, he kind of liked Lindsay’s audacity.

“You can’t trust everything you read on the internet,” Dylan returned dryly.

Kaitlin leaned a little closer to Zach, voice lowering. “Is this going to end badly?”

“Depends,” he answered, listening for the next volley.

“I read it in the Oxford Historic Encyclopedia at the NYU Library,” came Lindsay’s tart retort.

“It could end badly,” Zach acknowledged.

While he’d long since accepted the fact that his family’s wealth had its roots in some pretty unsavory characters, Dylan had always chosen to pretend his ancestor fought against the pirate Lyndall Harper, and on the side of justice.

The two men had zigzagged across the Atlantic for years, lobbing cannonballs at each other. They’d fought, that much was true. But neither was on the right side of the law.

The suite level elevator doors had opened, so they walked inside.

“Caldwell had letters of authority from King George,” said Dylan, turning to face the glowing red numbers.

“Forged and backdated in 1804,” Lindsay retorted without missing a bead.

“Have you ever seen the originals?” Dylan asked. “Because I’ve seen the originals.”

Kaitlin merely grinned at Zach from beneath her ball cap. “My money’s on Lindsay.”

He took in her fresh face, ruby lips, dark lashes and that enticing little dimple. He caught the scent of coconut, and for a split second he imagined her in a bright bikini, flowers in her hair, on a tropical beach.

“Is it a bet?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Sorry?” He shook himself back to reality.

“Ten bucks says Lindsay wins.” She held out her hand to seal the deal.

Zach took her small, soft hand in his, shaking slowly, drawing out the touch, his attraction to her buzzing through every nerve cell in his body. “You’re on.”

The elevator came smoothly to a stop, and they made their way along the wide, carpeted hallway to the luxury suite. For many years, the Harpers and the Gilbys had shared a corporate suite for Mets games. Dylan’s father used them the most often, but they had proven a valuable corporate tool for all of them in wooing challenging clients.

“Wow.” The exclamation whooshed out of Kaitlin as she crossed through the arched entrance and into the big, balconied room. It comfortably held twenty. A waiter was setting out snacks on the countertop bar, next to an ice-filled pail of imported beer and a couple of bottles of fine wine.

“Will you look at this.” Like an excited kid, she beelined across to the open glass doors and out onto the breezy, tiered balcony, where two short rows of private seats awaited them.

Happy to leave Dylan and Lindsay to their escalating debate, Zach followed Kaitlin out.

“So this is how the other half lives,” she said, bracing her hands on the painted metal rail, and gazing out over home plate. Rows of fan-filled seats cascaded below them, and a hum of excitement wafted through the air.

“It works well for entertaining clients.” Zach heard a trace of apology in his voice, and he realized he wanted her to know it wasn’t all about self-indulgence.

“At Shea Stadium, we used to sit over there.” She pointed to the blue seats high behind third.

“Was that when you were a kid?”

She shook her head. “It was when we were in college.” And a wistful tone came into her voice. “My first live game was sophomore year.”

“So, you were a late bloomer?” He shifted to watch her profile, wondering what had prompted the sadness.

“As a kid, I watched as many as I could on TV.” She abruptly turned to face the suite, and her tone went back to normal. “You got any beer in there?”

“No live games as a kid?” he persisted, seeing an opening to get to know her on a more personal level.

“Not a lot of money when I was a kid.” She sounded defiant. He could tell he was being dared to probe further.

He opened his mouth to ask, but a cheer came up from the crowd as the players jogged onto the field.

Kaitlin clapped her hands. And by the time the din had abated, Zach decided to leave it alone. He patted one of the balcony chairs in the front row. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you a beer.” Two stairs up, he twisted back. “You want chips or something?”

“Hot dog?” she asked.

He couldn’t help but grin at the simple request. “One hot dog, coming up.”

Back inside the suite, while Dylan explained some of the finer points of King George’s Letters of Authority, the waiter quickly organized hot dogs and beer.

In no time, Zach was settled next to Kaitlin, and the game was under way.

As the Mets went up to bat, they ate their loaded hot dogs. Between bites, she unselfconsciously cheered for the hits and groaned at the strikes. Zach found himself watching her more than he watched the players.

After the final bite of her hot dog, she licked a dab of mustard from the pad of her thumb. The gesture was both subconscious and sexy. Somehow, it looked remarkably like a kiss.

“That was delicious,” she said, grinning around the tip of her thumb. “Thanks.”

He tried to remember the last time he’d dated a woman who enjoyed the simple pleasure of a hot dog. Lobster, maybe, caviar, certainly, and expensive champagne was always a winner. But the finer things had mattered to his dates, his money had always mattered.

Then he remembered Kaitlin owned half his fortune. And he remembered they weren’t on a date.

“So …” She adjusted her position, crossing one leg over the opposite knee, and adjusted her cap, apparently remembering the same things as him. “Why did you invite me here?”

He feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

She gestured to the opulence behind them. “The suite. The baseball game. Imported beer. What’s up?”

“We’re working together.”

“And …” She waited.

“And I thought we should get to know each other.” Sure, he had another objective. But it was perfectly rational for the two of them to get to know each other. The renovations would take months. They’d be in each other’s lives for quite some time to come.

“I’m not signing the divorce papers,” she warned him.

“Did I ask?” There was no need for her to get paranoid.

“And I’m not changing the renovation designs, either.”

“You could at least let me look at them.”

“No way,” she determinedly stated.

He tried feigning nonchalance. “Okay. Then let’s talk about you.”

She came alert. “What about me?”

“What are your plans? I mean long-term. Not just this single project.”

The crack of a bat against the ball resonated through the stadium, and she turned to face forward while a runner sprinted to first. “That’s no secret,” she answered, gaze focused on the game. “A successful career in architecture. In New York City.”

He took a sip of the cold beer, concentrating on getting this conversation just right. “I’d like to help you.”

Her mouth quirked into a rueful smile. “You are helping. Reluctantly, we both know. But you are helping.”

“I mean in addition to the Harper renovation project. I know people. I have contacts.”

“I’m sure you do.” She kept her attention fixed on the game while the opposing pitcher threw a strike, retiring the batter, and the Mets headed out to the field.

“Let me use them,” Zach offered.

She turned then to paste him with a skeptical stare. “Use your contacts? To help me?”

“Yes,” he assured her with a nod.

She thought about it for a few minutes while the pitcher warmed up. Zach was tempted to prompt her, but he’d messed up so many conversations with her already, he decided silence was the safer route.

“I read where you’re going to the chamber of commerce dinner next Friday,” she finally ventured, turning to watch him.

“The resurgence of global trade in northern Europe,” he confirmed. They’d asked him to speak. He’d prefer to sit in the back and enjoy the single malt, but having a profile at these things was always good for business.

“Are you taking anyone?” she asked, gaze darting back to the action on the field.

“You mean a date?”

She nodded. “It’s a dinner. I assume it would be partly social. It seems to me it would be acceptable to bring a date.”

“Yes, it’s acceptable. And no, I don’t have one.”

Another batter cracked a high fly ball. They watched the trajectory until it was caught out in center field.

“Will you take me?”

Zach rocked back and turned. A reflexive rush of excitement hit his body as he studied her profile. “You’re asking me for a date?”

But she rolled her eyes and adjusted her cap. “I’m asking you to get me in the door, Zach, not dance with me. You said you wanted to help. And there will be people there who are good for my career.”

“Right.” He shifted in his seat, assuring himself he wasn’t disappointed. It was a lie, of course. But he definitely wasn’t stupid.

Dating Kaitlin would be a huge mistake. Dancing with her was out of the question. What if it was as great as he’d remembered? What then?

She drew a satisfied sigh, her shoulders relaxing. “And, before Friday, if you wouldn’t mind telling at least five people that you’ve hired me back. Influential people. It would be great for me if word got around.”

He had no right to be disappointed. This was business for her. It was business for him, too. Introducing her around at the chamber dinner played right into Plan C. She was right. There would be influential people there, a myriad of corporate executives, many of whom would have contacts in the architectural world. If he was lucky, really lucky, she’d find a job right there at the dinner.

Still, he struggled to keep his voice neutral as he told her, “Sure. No problem.”

“You did offer to help,” she pointed out.

“I said sure.”

“Are you annoyed?” she asked.

“I’m being blackmailed,” he reminded her. Was he supposed to be thrilled about it?

“Every marriage has its complications,” she returned on an irreverent grin.

Just then, the Mets pitcher struck out the third batter with the bases loaded, and Kaitlin jumped from her seat to cheer.

Zach watched her in the sunlight and struggled very hard to feel annoyed. But then she punched a fist in the air, and her T-shirt rode up, revealing a strip of smooth skin above her waistband. And annoyance was the last thing he was feeling toward his accidental wife.

The chamber dinner was a dream come true for Kaitlin. The people she met were friendly and professional, and she came away feeling as if she’d met the who’s who of the Manhattan business world. Zach had certainly stuck to his pledge of helping her. He’d introduced her to dozens of potential contacts, left her in interesting conversations, but seemed to magically appear whenever she felt alone or out of place.

It was nearly midnight when they finally climbed aboard his thirty-foot yacht for the return trip to Manhattan. Like the suite at the baseball game, the yacht clearly showed Zach had the means and the desire to enjoy the finer things in life. Lindsay was right, Kaitlin could spend as much as she needed on the renovations, and he’d barely notice.

The chamber dinner had been held at an island marina just off the coast of southern Manhattan. Most people had traveled by water taxi but a few, like Zach, had brought their own transportation.

“This is a nice ride,” she acknowledged one more time, as they settled into a grouping of comfortable, white, cushioned furniture. The sitting area, on a teak wood deck, was positioned next to a covered hot tub near the stern of the boat, protected from the wind by a glass wall at midship, but providing an incredible view over the aft rail.

Kaitlin chose a soft armchair, while Zach took a love seat at a right angle to her, facing the stern. The pilot powered up the engine, and they glided smoothly out into the bay.

“It’s slower than a helicopter,” said Zach. “But I like it out here at night.”

Kaitlin tipped her head and gazed at the twinkling skyline. A three-quarter moon was rising, and a few stars were visible beyond the city’s glow. “You have a helicopter?”

“Dylan has the helicopters. My company owns ships.”

Kaitlin had liked Dylan, even if Lindsay hadn’t seemed to warm up to him. Then again, there were few things Lindsay enjoyed more than a rollicking debate, and Dylan had played right into her hand. Kaitlin was convinced Lindsay missed being in a courtroom. Lindsay had worked for a year as a litigator, and Kaitlin had always wondered about her choice to take the teaching position.

“Tell me more about the pirates,” she said to Zach. She’d never met anyone with such a colorful family history.

“You want a drink or anything?” he asked.

She shook her head, slipping off her shoes and bending her knees to tuck her feet beneath her in the shimmering black cocktail dress. “One more glass of champagne, and I’ll start singing karaoke.”

“Champagne it is.” He started to rise, his devilish smile showing straight white teeth in the muted deck light.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, with a waggle of her finger. “Trust me. You do not want me to sing.”

He rocked back into his seat and loosened his tie. He ran a hand, spread-fingered, through his thick hair and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. In the buffeting breeze, with the faint traces of fatigue around his dark eyes, he looked disheveled and compellingly sexy.

“Back to the pirates,” she prompted in an effort to distract herself from her burgeoning desire. “Is it all true?”

He shrugged easily. “Depends on what you’ve heard.”

“I heard that your ancestor was a pirate, arch enemy of Dylan’s ancestor, and the two of them formed a truce nearly three hundred years ago on what is now Serenity Island. I heard the nexus of your fortune is stolen treasure.”

Criminal or not, she still found herself envious of his detailed family history. Zach would know details of his parents, his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, and every ancestor back three hundred years. Kaitlin would give anything to be able to go back even one generation.

“Well, it’s all true,” said Zach. “At least as far as we can tell. Dylan’s in denial.”

Kaitlin laughed lightly, remembering the argument at the baseball game. “It sure sounded like it.”

Zach removed his tie and tossed it on the love-seat cushion beside him. “Dylan wants to pretend his family was pure of heart. I think he must have more scruples than me.”

“You’re unscrupulous?” she couldn’t resist asking.

“Some would say.”

“Would they be right?”

He looked her square in the eyes. “Like I’m going to answer that.”

She couldn’t tell if he was still teasing. And maybe that was deliberate. “Are you trying to keep me off balance?” she asked, watching his expression closely.

“You’re not exactly on my side.”

“I thought we’d formed a truce.” She certainly felt as if they’d formed a truce tonight.

“I’m appeasing you,” he told her. His tone and dark eyes were soft, but the words revealed his continued caution.

“And I’m trying to build you a masterpiece,” she responded tartly.

He sighed, and seemed to relax ever so slightly. “You’re trying to build yourself a masterpiece.”

She had to concede that one. Her primary motivation in this was her own reputation. Of course, it was all his fault she was forced into this position.

“You make a fair point,” she admitted.

“So, who’s unscrupulous now?”

“I’m not unscrupulous. Just practical.” She had no one in this world to depend on but herself.

Orphans learned that fact very quickly in life. If she didn’t have a career, if she couldn’t provide for herself, nobody would do it for her. Since she was old enough to understand, she’d feared poverty and loneliness.

She was sure the view was quite different from where Zach was sitting on millions of dollars worth of New York real estate. He had a successful company, money to burn and a lineage that went back to the dawn of statehood.

“So, what have you decided?” he asked.

“About what?” Was there anything left outstanding on their deal? She thought they were both quite clear at this point.

“My building. You’ve been working at it for a couple of weeks now. Tell me what you have in mind.”

Kaitlin instantly saw through his ploy. No wonder he’d behaved so well this evening. He’d been lulling her into a false sense of security.

She came to her feet, keeping a close eye on him, backing toward the rail. The teak deck was cool and smooth beneath her bare feet. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not opening myself up for a fight over the details.”

He rose with her. “You’ll need my input at some point. It might as well be—”

“Uh-uh.” The breeze brushed the filmy, scalloped-hem dress against her legs and whipped the strands of hair that had worked their way loose from her updo. “No input. My project.”

He widened his stance. “I’ll have to approve the final designs.”

The waves rolled higher, and she braced herself against the rail. “What part of carte blanche didn’t you understand?”

He took a few steps forward. “The part where I sign the check.”

“We sign the check.”

He came even closer, all pretense of geniality gone from his expression. He was all business, all intimidation. “Right. And ‘we’ had best be happy with both the plans and the price tag.”

“There is no limit on this project’s budget.”

He came to a halt, putting a hand on the rail, half trapping her. “I won’t let you bankrupt my company.”

She struggled not to react to his nearness. “Like I could possibly bankrupt Harper Transportation. You give me too much credit.”

The boat lunged into a trough, and he swayed closer. “You want to see the balance sheets?”

“I want to see a new Manhattan skyline.”

“It’s talk like that that scares me, Kaitlin.”

Her scare him?

He was the one unsettling her.

His intense expression brought her heart rate up. His lips were full, chin determined, eyes intense, and his hard, rangy body was far too close for her comfort. Sweat prickled at her hairline, formed between her breasts, gathered behind her knees, and was then cooled by the evening breeze.

His arms were only inches away. He could capture her at any moment, kiss her, ravage her.

She swallowed against her out-of-control arousal.

Any second now, she’d be throwing herself in his arms. Maybe talking about the renovation was the lesser of all evils.

“I was planning more light.” Her voice came out sexy, husky, and she couldn’t seem to do a thing about it. “More glass. A higher lobby. Bigger offices.”

Had he moved closer?

“Bigger offices mean fewer offices,” he pointed out.

She didn’t disagree.

“Do you know the cost of space in midtown Manhattan?” His rebuke sounded like a caress.

“Do you know the soft value of impressing your future clients?” she returned, her brain struggling hard to grasp every coherent thought.

Had she moved closer? Her nose picked up his scent, and it was sensually compelling. She swore she could feel the heat of his body through his dress shirt.

“Do you think the makers of tractor parts and kitchen appliances care what my lobby looks like?” His breath puffed against her lips.

“Yes.”

They stared at each other in silence, inhaling and exhaling for long seconds. The rumble of the yacht’s motor filled the space around them.

Something dangerous flared in Zach’s intense gray eyes. It was darkly sensual and completely compelling.

Her body answered with a rush of heat and a flare of longing that sent a throbbing message to every corner of her being.

She struggled through the muddle of emotions clouding her brain. “The people who make tractor parts also have tickets to Lincoln Center. They do care about your lobby.”

“It’s a building, not a piece of art.” The yacht lurched, and his hand brushed against hers. She nearly groaned out loud.

“It can be both,” she rasped.

Things could do double duty.

Look at Zach. He was both an adversary and a—

What? What was she saying?

He could be her lover?

“Kaitlin?” His voice was strangled, while his gaze flared with certain desire. His full lips parted, his head tipping toward hers.

The boat rolled on a fresh set of waves, and she gripped the rail, transfixed by the sight of his body closing in on hers.

She flashed back to Vegas.

He’d kissed her there.

How could she have ever doubted it?

Elvis had pronounced them husband and wife, and Zach had thrown his arms around her, kissing her thoroughly and endlessly. It was only the cheers from the crowd that had finally penetrated their haze and forced them to pull apart. It was a miracle they hadn’t slept together that night.

Why hadn’t they slept together that night?

She remembered getting into the elevator with a couple of her female coworkers, then stumbling into her room and dropping, fully dressed, onto the plush, king-size bed.

No Zach.

But he was here now.

And they were alone.

And she remembered. She wished she didn’t. But she remembered his lips on hers, his arms around her, the strength of his embrace, the taste of his mouth, the sensual explosions that burst along her skin.

She wanted it again, wanted it so very, very much.

She gave in to her desire and leaned ever so slightly forward. His mouth instantly rushed to hers. His free arm snaked around her, pressing against the small of her back, pulling her tight as the deck surged beneath them.

She pressed forward, arms twining around his neck. Her lips softened, parted. He murmured her name, and his hand splayed farther down her spine. His tongue invaded, and the taste of him combined with the scent of the salt air, the undulation of the boat and heat of his hands brought a moan from her very core.

He shifted so that his back was to the rail. His free hand caressed her cheek, brushed through her hair, moved down to her neck, her shoulder. He pushed off the strap of her dress, then his lips followed, tasting their way along her bare, sensitized skin.

His kisses, his passion, made her gasp. She tangled her fingers through his hair, pushing her body tightly against his, shifting her thighs as his leg slipped between them. His hand cupped her breast through the flimsy fabric of her dress, while his lips found hers again, and she bent backward with the exquisite pressure of his hot kiss.

The boat lurched again, and they lost their balance, stumbling a few steps sideways.

Zach was quick to steady her, clasping her tightly to him, lips next to her ear.

“You okay?” His voice was hollow.

“I’m—” She drew a shaky breath.

Was she okay? What on earth had she just done? One minute they were arguing over office sizes, the next they were practically attacking each other.

He held her tight. Neither spoke as they drew deep breaths.

Finally, he stroked her messy hair. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we’ve both gone completely insane?”

He chuckled low. “That’s pretty close.”

“We can’t do this.”

“No kidding.”

“You need to let go of me.”

“I know.” He didn’t move.

“I’m blackmailing you. You’re trying to outflank, outmaneuver and outthink me along the way. And then we’re getting divorced.”

“As long as we’re both clear on the process.”

The flutter in her stomach told her there was way more to it than that. But she had to fight it. She couldn’t let herself be attracted to this man. She certainly couldn’t let herself kiss him, or worse.

They were adversaries. And this was her one chance to get her life back. And she couldn’t let any lingering sexual desire mess that up.

“You need to let me go, Zach.”

Four

After a long, sleepless night, and a lengthy heart-to-heart with Lindsay as they drove up the coast of Long Island, Kaitlin watched her friend browse through a tray of misshapen silver coins in a small beachfront antique shop.

“I never thought I’d hear myself say this.” Lindsay selected one plastic-wrapped item and read the provenance typed neatly on the attached card. “But, as your lawyer, I must strongly advise you not to sleep with your husband.”

“I am not sleeping with my husband,” Kaitlin reminded her. And she had absolutely no intention of going there. Desire and action were two completely different things.

Two women checking out a painting in the next aisle slid their curious gazes to Kaitlin, and their expressions shifted from smirks to bemusement.

Kaitlin leaned a little closer to Lindsay and whispered, “Okay, that just sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

“He’s playing you,” said Lindsay, dropping the first coin and switching to another, turning it over to read.

“Neither of us meant for it to happen,” Kaitlin pointed out. Zach’s shock and regret had seemed as genuine as hers.

Lindsay glanced up from the coin, arching her a skeptical look. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure,” Kaitlin returned with conviction. They’d both sworn not to let it happen again. It was as much her fault as his.

“And what were you doing right before you kissed him?” Lindsay gave up on the coin rack and meandered her way across the shop floor.

Kaitlin followed, only half paying attention to the merchandise. Lindsay was the one who’d suggested driving up the coast to visit antique stores. They’d never done it before, but Kaitlin was game for anything that would distract her.

“We were on deck,” she told Lindsay. “Fantastic boat, by the way.”

“You mentioned that. So, were you eating? Drinking? Stargazing?”

“Arguing art versus architecture.” Kaitlin took her mind back to the first minutes of the return trip. “He wanted to see my designs.”

“I rest my case.” Lindsay lingered in front of a glass case displaying some more gold coins. “Aha. This is what I was looking for.”

“What case?” asked Kaitlin. What was Lindsay resting?

Lindsay fluttered a dismissive hand, attention on the coins. “The case against Zach.” Then she tapped her index finger against the glass in answer to a clerk’s unspoken question. “I’d like to see that one.”

“I don’t follow,” said Kaitlin.

“The coin is from the Blue Glacier.”

“Yes, it is,” the clerk confirmed with an enthusiastic smile, unlocking the case and extracting a plastic-covered, gold, oblong coin.

“You were resting your case,” Kaitlin prompted.

Lindsay inspected the coin, holding it up to the sunlight and turning it one way, then the other. “You were arguing with Zach about art versus architecture. Which side were you on, by the way?”

“Zach’s afraid my renovation plans will be impractical,” explained Kaitlin. “I told him architecture could be both beautiful and functional. He’s stone-cold on the side of function.”

“Not hard to tell that from his building.” Lindsay put down her purse and slipped the coin under a big magnifying glass on a stand on the countertop.

“When did you become interested in coins?” asked Kaitlin. Lindsay was going through quite a procedure here.

“The two of you were fighting,” Lindsay continued while she peered critically at the coin. “I’m assuming you were winning since, aside from holding all the trump cards, you were right.” She straightened. “Then suddenly, poof, he’s kissing you.”

The clerk eyed Kaitlin with obvious interest, while Lindsay gave Kaitlin a knowing look. “Do you think there’s a slim possibility it was a distraction? Do you think, maybe, out of desperation to seize control of the project, your husband might be trying to emotionally manipulate you?”

Kaitlin blinked. Manipulate her?

“You know,” Lindsay continued, “if you gave away the fact you thought he was hot—”

“I never told him he was hot.”

“There are other ways to give yourself away besides talking. And you do think he’s hot.”

The clerk’s attention was ping-ponging between the two women.

Kaitlin realized she probably had given herself away. On numerous occasions. And while they were arguing on the boat, her attraction to Zach must have been written all over her face.

But what about Zach? Had he felt nothing? Could he actually be that good an actor? Had he pounced on an opportunity?

Humiliation washed over her. Lindsay was right.

“Darn it,” Kaitlin hissed under her breath. “He was faking?”

Lindsay patted her arm in sympathy, her tone going gentle. “That’d be my guess.”

Kaitlin scrunched her eyes shut.

“I’ll take this one,” Lindsay told the clerk. Then she wrapped a bracing arm around Kaitlin’s shoulders. “Seriously, Katie. I hate to be the one to say this. But what are the odds he’s falling for you?”

Lindsay was right. She was so, so right. Kaitlin had been taken in by a smooth-talking man with an agenda. He didn’t want her. He wanted her architectural designs, so he could shoot holes in them, talk her out of them, save himself a bundle of money. His interests were definitely not Kaitlin’s interests.

How could she have been so naive?

She clamped her jaw and took a bracing breath.

Then she opened her eyes. “You’re right.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m fine,” Kaitlin huffed. She caught a glimpse of the hefty price tag on the coin and seized the opportunity to turn the attention from herself. “You know that’s two thousand dollars?”

“It’s a bargain,” said the clerk, punching keys on the cash register.

But Lindsay wasn’t so easily distracted. “I think he’s trapped. I think he’s panicking. And I think he thinks you’ll be more malleable if you fall for him.”

“How long have you been interested in antique coins?” Kaitlin repeated. Notwithstanding her desire to change the subject, it really was a lot of money.

“I’m not interested in coins,” Lindsay replied. “I’m interested in pirates.”

Oh, this was priceless. “You’re fixating on Dylan Gilby?”

“Wrong. I’m fixating on Caldwell Gilby. I’m proving that smug, superior Dylan does, indeed, owe his wealth to the ill-gotten gains of his pirate ancestor.”

“The Blue Glacier was sunk by pirates,” the clerk offered as she accepted Lindsay’s credit card to pay for the purchase.

“By the Black Fern,” Lindsay confirmed in a knowledgeable and meaningful tone. “Captained by dear ol’ Caldwell Gilby.”

The clerk carefully slid the coin in a velvet pouch embossed with the store’s logo. “The captain of the Blue Glacier tried to scuttle the ship against a reef rather than give up his cargo. But the pirates got most of it anyway. A few of the coins were recovered from the wreck in 1976.” The clerk handed Lindsay the pouch. “You’ve made a good purchase.”

As they turned for the door to exit the pretty little shop, Lindsay held up the pouch in front of Kaitlin’s face. “Exhibit A.”

Kaitlin searched her friend’s expression. “You have got to get back in the courtroom.”

“Weren’t we talking about you?” asked Lindsay. “Kissing your husband?”

“I don’t think so.” Kaitlin was going to wallow through that one in private.

Lindsay dropped the coin into her purse and sobered. “I don’t want you getting hurt in all this.”

Kaitlin refused to accept that. “I’m not about to get hurt. I kissed him. Nothing more.” That was, of course, the understatement of the century.

Still, they’d come to their senses before anything serious had happened. Or maybe Kaitlin was the one who’d come to her senses. Zach hadn’t been emotionally involved on any level. Even now, he was probably biding his time, waiting for the next opportunity to manipulate her all over again.

“He’s only after one thing,” Lindsay declared with authority.

Kaitlin struggled to find the black humor. “And it’s not even the usual thing.”

Lindsay gave Kaitlin’s shoulder another squeeze. “Just don’t let your heart get caught in the crossfire.”

“My heart is perfectly safe. I’m fighting for my career.” Kaitlin wouldn’t get tripped up again. She couldn’t afford it. She was fighting against someone who was even less principled than she’d ever imagined.

Dylan showed his disagreement, backing away from Zach’s office desk. “I am not stealing corporate secrets for you.”

Zach exhaled his frustration. “They’re my corporate secrets. You’re not stealing them, because I own them.”

“That’s the Harper family style,” Dylan sniffed in disdain. “Not the Gilbys’.”

“Will you get off your moral high horse.” It was all well and good for Dylan to protect his family name, but it had gotten completely out of hand the past few weeks.

“I have principles. So, sue me.”

“I give you the key to my car.” Zach ignored Dylan’s protests and began to lay out a simple, straightforward plan.

Dylan folded his arms belligerently across the front of his business suit. “So I can break in to it.”

“So you can unlock it. There is no breaking required.”

“And steal Kaitlin’s laptop.”

“Her briefcase is probably a better bet,” Zach suggested. “I suspect the laptop has a password. You photocopy the drawings. You put them back. You lock my trunk, and you’re done.”

“It’s stealing, Zach. Plain and simple.”

“It’s photocopying, Dylan. Even Kaitlin’s pit bull of a lawyer—”

“Lindsay.”

Zach rapped his knuckles on his desktop. “Even Lindsay would have to admit that intellectual property created by Kaitlin while she was on the Harper Transportation payroll belongs to the company. And the company belongs to me.”

“And to her.”

Zach, exasperated, threw up his hands. “Whose side are you on?”

“This doesn’t feel right.”

Zach glared at his lifelong friend, searching for the argument that would bring Dylan around to logic. He couldn’t help but wish a few of Caldwell’s more disreputable genes had trickled down through the generations.

It wasn’t as if they were knocking over a bank. It was nothing more than a frat prank. And he owned the damn designs. And while they might technically be half hers, they were also half his—morally, they were all his—and he had a corporation to protect. A corporation that employed thousands of people, all of them depending on Zach to make good decisions for Harper Transportation.

“I need to know she won’t ruin me,” he said to Dylan. “We know she’s out for revenge. And think about it, Dylan. If she was only worried we’d disagree on the aesthetics of the renovation, she’d flaunt the drawings in my face. She’s up to something.”

Dylan stared in silence for a long minute, and Zach could almost feel him working through the elements of the situation.

“Up to what?” he finally asked, and Zach knew he had him.

“Up to spending Harper Transportation into a hole we can’t climb out of then walking away and letting me sink.”

“You think she’d—”

“I don’t know what she’d do. That’s my point. I don’t know anything about this woman except that she blames me for everything that’s wrong in her life.”

Even as he said the words to Dylan, Zach was forced to silently acknowledge they weren’t strictly true. He knew more than that about Kaitlin. He knew she was beautiful, feisty and funny. He knew her kisses made him forget they were enemies. And he knew he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman in his life.

But that only meant he had to be tougher, even more determined to win. His feelings for her were a handicap, and he had to get past them.

“If it was you,” Zach told Dylan in complete honesty, “if someone was after you, I’d lie, cheat and steal to save you.”

Dylan hesitated. “That’s not fair.”

“How is it not fair?”

“You’d lie, cheat and steal at the drop of a hat.”

Zach couldn’t help but grin. It was a joke. Dylan had no basis for the accusation, and they both knew it.

Zach rounded the desk, knowing Dylan was on board. “That’s because I’m a pirate at heart.”

“And I am not.”

Zach clapped Dylan on the shoulder. “But I’m working on you.”

“That’s what scares me.”

“You may be a lot of things,” said Zach, “but scared isn’t one of them.”

Dylan shook his head in both disgust and capitulation. “Give me your damn car keys,” he grumbled. “And you owe me one.”

Zach extracted his spare key from his pocket and handed them to Dylan. “I’ll pay it back anytime you want. We’ll be at Boondocks in an hour. The valet parking is off Forty-fourth.”

Dylan glanced down at the silver key in his palm. “How did it come to this?”

“Lately, I ask myself that every morning.”

Dylan quirked a half smile. “Maybe if you’d get yourself back on the straight and narrow.”

“I am on the straight and narrow. Now get out there and steal for me.”

Dylan on side, Zach cleared his evening’s schedule and exited his office, making his way to the third floor. He had been making a point by putting Kaitlin in such a cramped space. It occurred to him that Dylan might be right. His moral compass could, in fact, be slipping.

He wasn’t particularly proud of this next plan. But he didn’t see any other way to get the information. And the situation was getting critical. Finding Kaitlin a new job wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d expected. There was the real possibility he’d have to implement her renovation plans, and he couldn’t afford to be blindsided by whatever extravagant and ungainly design she’d dreamed up.

He arrived at her office as she was locking the door at the end of the workday. She had both her laptop and a burgundy leather briefcase in her hands.

“You busy for dinner?” he asked without preamble.

She turned in surprise, her gaze darting up and down the hall, obviously worried about who might see them talking.

“Why?” Suspicion was clear in her tone.

“I’m attending a business event,” he offered levelly.

“On your yacht?”

He tried to interpret her expression. Were her words a rebuke or a joke? Was she nervous at the thought of being alone with him again? If so, could it be because she was still attracted to him?

They’d pledged to keep their hands off each other, but she could be wavering. He was definitely wavering. He’d been wavering as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

“At Boondocks,” he answered, shelving his physical desire for the moment. “I thought you might like to meet Ray Lambert.”

Her green eyes widened. Ah, now he had her attention.

Ray Lambert was president of the New York Architectural Association. Zach had done his homework on this. He’d planned an introduction so valuable, it would be impossible for Kaitlin to say no to dinner.

“You’re meeting Ray Lambert?” she asked cautiously.

“For dinner. Him and his wife.”

Now her tone was definitely wary as she tried to gauge his motives. “And you’re willing to take me along?”

Zach gave a careless shrug. “If you don’t want to—”

“No, I want to.” Her brow furrowed. “I’m just trying to figure out your angle.”

He couldn’t help but admire the way her brain was working through this. She was smart. But he was smarter. At least in this instance. With anybody but Ray Lambert, the plan would likely have failed.

“My angle is meeting your conditions for returning my company to me,” Zach told her. It was true. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was part of the truth. “You want a career in this town, Ray’s a good guy to meet.”

She tilted her head to an unconsciously sexy angle. “No strings attached?”

His gaze automatically dropped to her luscious lips and his primal brain engaged. He didn’t intend to lower his voice to a sexy timbre, nor did he plan to ease his body forward, but it all happened anyway. “What kind of strings did you have in mind?”

“You promised,” she reminded him, looking trapped and worried.

“So did you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I’m not doing anything, either,” he lied. He was thinking plenty, and his body was telegraphing his desire. “Your imagination’s filling in the blanks.”

“You’re looking at me,” she accused.

“You’re looking back,” he countered.

“Zach.”

“Katie.” It was a stupid move, and not at all in keeping with his grand plan for tonight, but he reached forward and brushed his knuckles up against hers. It was a subtle touch, but it had the impact of a lightning bolt.

It obviously hit her, too. And he couldn’t stop the surge of male satisfaction that overtook his body.

Her cheeks flushed, her irises deepened to emeralds. Her voice went sultry. “This isn’t a date.”

“Don’t trust yourself?” he dared.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Smart move,” he conceded, admiring her intelligence all over again as he pulled back from his brinkmanship.

He knew Harper Transportation had to be his primary concern. And he needed to get his hands on her drawings by fair means or foul. His company, his employees, his family legacy, all depended on it.

“Are you trying to make me say no?” she asked him.

“I honestly don’t know what I’m trying to do.” The confession was out of him before he could censor it.

Complicated didn’t begin to describe his feelings for Kaitlin. He desperately wanted to kiss her. He craved the feel of her body against his. Given half a chance, he knew he’d tear off her clothes and make love to her until neither of them could move.

And then the power balance would be completely in her favor, and Harper Transportation wouldn’t stand a chance.

He forced himself to back off farther, putting a buffer of space between them.

“Ray Lambert?” she confirmed, apparently willing to put up with Zach for the introduction.

He gave her a nod. Despite the detour into their inconvenient attraction to one another, his plan had worked. As he’d known it would. The intellectual evaluation of another person’s emotions was an astonishingly effective tool for manipulation. And, apparently, it was a gift he had.

Her expression relaxed ever so slightly, causing a stab of guilt in his gut.

“You know, you’re either nicer than I thought,” she told him, “or more devious than I can understand.”

“I’m much nicer than you think,” Zach lied.

“Can you pick me up at home?”

He knew if he let her go home, she’d ditch the briefcase. That wasn’t part of the plan. So, he made a show of glancing at his watch. “No time for that. We’ll have to leave from here.”

Her hesitation showed in the purse of her lips.

“I can pick you up at the bus stop again,” he offered, knowing that would eliminate one of her hesitations.

It was her turn to glance at her watch. “Five minutes?”

He agreed. Then he watched until she got on the elevator. He wasn’t going to risk her stowing the briefcase back in her office either.

At the opulent Boondocks restaurant, Kaitlin and Zach settled into a curved booth with Ray Lambert and his wife, Susan. The restaurant was on two levels, the upper overlooking the atrium that served as both an entrance and a lounge. Palm trees and exotic plants blooming from both floor and wall pots added to the fresh ambiance that included high ceilings, huge windows overlooking the park and natural wood and rattan screens to provide privacy between the tables.

Kaitlin had used the walk to the bus stop to call Lindsay and regain her equilibrium. Thank goodness some semblance of sanity had kept her from kissing Zach right there in the Harper building hallway.

She’d been inches, mere seconds, from throwing herself in his arms all over again and falling completely under his sensual spell. She was a fool, an undisciplined fool.

In desperation, she’d confessed to Lindsay and begged for a pep talk, needing to put some emotional armor around herself before the dinner started. As usual, Lindsay had shocked her back to reality, then used humor to put her on an even keel.

“Have we by any chance met in the past?” Ray asked Kaitlin as the two shook hands over a table set with silver, crystal and crisp white linen. Zach had slid partway around the booth seat and settled next to Susan, while Ray was directly across from Kaitlin.

“Once,” she answered Ray. “Three years ago, at the NYAA conference. I was one of probably six hundred people who came through the receiving line.”

He smiled at her. “That must have been it. I’m pretty good with faces.”

Lindsay just hoped he wasn’t remembering her ignominious firing from Hutton Quinn. Though, if he was, he didn’t give anything away.

“Anyone else interested in the ‘97 Esme Cabernet?” Susan pointed to the wine list that was open in front of her.

Kaitlin was grateful for the change in topic.

“One of her favorites,” Ray explained with a benevolent smile toward his wife. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Zach glanced to Kaitlin, obviously looking for her reaction.

She nodded agreeably, proud of the way her hormones were staying under control. This was a business dinner, nothing more. And it was going to stay that way. “I’d love to try it,” she told Susan.

Susan smiled and closed the wine list.

A waiter immediately appeared beside their table.

While Ray ordered the wine, Kaitlin’s attention caught on a couple crossing the foyer below. They were heading for the curved staircase, and even from this distance she could recognize Lindsay and Dylan.

She straightened to get a better view as they started up the stairs. What could they possibly be doing here?

Kaitlin couldn’t miss Lindsay’s red face. Her friend was furious.

“What the—” Though Kaitlin clamped her jaw on the unladylike exclamation, Zach swiveled to stare at her confusion. Then he followed the direction of her gaze.

Lindsay and Dylan had made it to the top of the stairs and bore down on the table. As they did, Zach sat bolt upright, obviously observing the fury on Lindsay’s face.

The waiter left with the wine order just as Lindsay and Dylan arrived. They presented themselves, and Lindsay’s quick gaze noted Ray and Susan. She schooled her features.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt.” She smiled at Kaitlin, and her glance went meaningfully to the briefcase she held in her hand, moving it into clear view.

Burgundy.

It was Kaitlin’s.

What was she doing with Kaitlin’s briefcase?

“We just wanted to say hi,” Lindsay continued, her voice full of forced cheer. “I met up with Dylan in the garage.”

Kaitlin felt Zach stiffen beside her, while Dylan blushed.

Dylan? The garage? Her briefcase?

She felt her jaw drop open.

“We’re going to get a table now,” Lindsay announced smoothly, giving Kaitlin a soft squeeze on the shoulder. “Enjoy your dinner. But maybe we could talk later?” She hooked her arm into Dylan’s and pasted him to her side.

Kaitlin couldn’t help herself. She turned to gape at Zach in astonishment. Her briefcase had been in his trunk. How did Lindsay end up with it? And what was Dylan’s connection?

Zach’s face remained impassive as he focused beyond Kaitlin to Dylan. “We’ll talk to you later.”

Lindsay made a half turn to address Ray and Susan. “I’m really sorry to have interrupted. I hope you all enjoy your dinner.” Then she gave Kaitlin one ominous glance before propelling Dylan farther into the restaurant.

Kaitlin’s immediate reaction was to follow them. But before she could rise from her seat, Zach’s hand clamped down on her thigh, holding her firmly in place.

The action was shocking, the sensation electric.

“That was Dylan Gilby,” he smoothly informed Ray and Susan. “Astral Air.”

Kaitlin reached down to surreptitiously remove Zach’s hand, but her strength was no match for his.

“I’ve met his father,” Ray acknowledged. If he’d noticed anything strange in the conversation, he was too professional to let on.

“Dylan and I grew up together,” Zach elaborated, filling the silence even while Kaitlin tried to work her leg free.

“Ah, here’s the wine,” Susan announced, looking pleased by the arrival of the steward.

As soon as Ray’s and Susan’s attention was distracted by the uncorking process, Zach leaned over. “Stay still,” he hissed into Kaitlin’s ear.

“What did you do?” Kaitlin demanded in an undertone.

“We’ll talk later,” he huffed.

“Bet on it.”

“Stop struggling.”

“Let go of me.”

“Not until I’m sure you’ll stay put.”

“We first discovered this one in Marseille,” said Ray, lifting his glass with a flourish for the ceremonial tasting.

Kaitlin quickly redirected her attention. She tried not to squirm against Zach’s grip. His hand was dry and warm, slightly callused, definitely not painful, but absolutely impossible to ignore.

She wasn’t wearing stockings today, and his hand was on her bare leg. His pinky finger had come to rest slightly north of her midthigh hemline. And his fingertips had curled into her sensitive inner thigh.

Now that her anger had settled to a hum, a new sensation pulsed its way through her system.

The touch of Zach’s hand was turning her on.

Ray nodded his approval on the wine, and the steward filled the other three glasses before topping up Ray’s.

When the wine was ready, Ray raised his glass for a toast. “A pleasure to meet you, Kaitlin. And congratulations on your contract with Harper Transportation. It’s an important building.”

“We’re lucky to have her,” Zach responded courteously.

Kaitlin thanked them both, clinked her glass against each of theirs, avoiding eye contact with Zach, then took a healthy swallow. The wine was incredibly delicious. More importantly, it contained a measure of alcohol to take the edge off her frustration.

Another waiter arrived with four large, leather-bound dinner menus, which he handed around to the table’s occupants.

Zach accepted his with one hand, still not relinquishing his hold on Kaitlin.

She opened hers, trying to concentrate on the dishes and descriptions in front of her, but the neat script blurred on the page.

Had his hand moved?

Was it higher now?

Ever so slightly, and ever so slowly, but completely unmistakably his fingertips were brushing their way up the inside of her thigh.

Her muscles contracted in reaction. She could feel her skin heat, and her breathing deepened.

“The pumpkin soup to start?” he asked her, voice low and completely casual in her ear.

She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t seem to form any words. She could barely sit still. Her toes curled and her fingers gripped tightly around the leather menu.

“Maybe the arugula salad?” he continued.

How could he do that? How could he sit there and behave as if everything was normal, when she was practically jumping out of her skin?

“I’m going with the yellowfin tuna,” Susan chirped.

Ray and Susan both looked to Kaitlin with questions on their faces.

Zach’s hand slipped higher, and she very nearly moaned.

“Kaitlin?” he prompted.

She knew she should slap his hand away. She should call him right here, right now, on his unacceptable behavior. It would serve him right.

He’d be embarrassed in front of Ray Lambert. But then so would she. She’d be mortified if Ray—if anyone—knew what Zach was doing under the tablecloth.

“Arugula,” she blurted out.

“The risotto is delicious,” Susan offered helpfully.

Kaitlin tried to smile her thanks. But she wasn’t sure if it quite came off, since she was gritting her teeth against Zach’s sensual onslaught.

She balanced the heavy menu against the tabletop, holding it with one hand. Then she dropped the other to her lap, covering Zach’s. “Stop,” she hissed under her breath. “Please.” The word came out on a desperate squeak.

His hand stilled. But then he turned it, meeting hers, and his thumb began a slow caress of her palm.

A new wave of desire flowed through her.

She could pull away anytime she wanted. But she didn’t want to pull away. Lord help her, she wanted to savor the sensation, feel the raw energy pulse through her body. And when his hand turned back, and the caress resumed on her thigh, she didn’t complain.

“The salmon,” he said decisively, closing his menu and setting it aside.

Susan pulled her menu against her chest, speaking over the top. “The dill sauce is to die for.”

Ray gave his wife’s shoulder a quick, friendly caress. “It’s beyond me why she doesn’t weigh three hundred pounds.”

“I have a great metabolism,” Susan said, adding a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t do nearly enough exercise to deserve all those desserts.”

Zach turned to Kaitlin, his fingertips still working magic as he spoke. “And what do you want?”

The double entendre boomed around them both.

Her gaze was drawn to the depths of his eyes, knowing there was no disguising her naked longing. “Risotto,” she managed to say.

“And for dessert?” He pressed more firmly against her inner thigh, his palm sliding boldly against her sensitized skin.

“I’ll decide later.”

He gave a slow, satisfied smile, and a gleam of attraction turned his gray eyes to silver.

Just as she was tumbling completely and hopelessly under his spell, Lindsay’s words came back to haunt her. Do you think there’s a slim possibility it was a distraction?

Oh, no.

He was doing it, again.

And she was falling for it, willingly, and all over again.

Humiliation was like ice water to her hormones. She steeled her wayward desire, letting anger replace her lust.

“No dessert,” she told him sternly, dropping her hand to her thigh and firmly removing his.

“Crème brûlée,” said Susan. “Definitely crème brûlée for me.”

Zach’s gaze slid to Kaitlin for a split second. But then he obviously decided to give up. Distraction was not going to work for him this time. His behavior was reprehensible, and her lapse in judgment was thoroughly unprofessional. What would it take for her to learn?

Thankfully, Susan launched into a story about a recent business trip to Greece.

Kaitlin forced herself to listen, responding with what she hoped were friendly and intelligent answers to Ray’s and Susan’s questions, then asking about their trip to London and their new ski chalet in Banff, as appetizers, dinner and then dessert were served.

Zach didn’t touch her again, luckily for him. Because by the time the crème brûlée was finished, the check arrived, and Ray and Susan said their good-nights, Kaitlin’s mood had migrated to full-on rage.

As the waiter cleared the last of the dishes, smoothing the white linen tablecloth, Lindsay and Dylan appeared.

Lindsay plunked herself next to Zach, the briefcase between them, while Dylan sat much more reluctantly across from Kaitlin.

“They stole your briefcase,” Lindsay said without preamble. “They stole your briefcase.”

Kaitlin had presumed that was what happened. She immediately turned an accusing glare on Zach. There was no need to voice the question, so she waited silently for his explanation.

“It was in my trunk,” he pointed out in his own defense. “My trunk.”

Lindsay opened her mouth, but Dylan jumped in before she could speak. His blue eyes glittered at Zach. “Seems there are some finer points of the law you may not have taken into account here.”

“They’re my drawings,” Zach stated.

The waiter reappeared, and conversation ceased. “May I offer anyone some coffee?”

“A shot of cognac in mine,” said Lindsay.

“All around,” Zach added gruffly, making a circle motion with his index finger.

Kaitlin wasn’t inclined to argue.

“They are my drawings.” Her words to Zach were stern as the man walked away.

“I paid you to make them,” he countered.

“You both paid her to make them,” Lindsay pointed out in an imperious tone.

“I wouldn’t argue with her,” Dylan muttered darkly.

Lindsay shot him a warning look.

He didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by her professorial demeanor as he stared levelly back. “I had a math teacher like you once.”

“Didn’t seem to do you any good,” she retorted.

“You stole my briefcase!” Kaitlin felt compelled to bring everyone back to the main point. “Was this entire dinner a ruse?”

She shook her head to clear it. “Of course it was a ruse. You’re despicable, Zach. If I hadn’t told Lindsay you’d invited me here. And if she didn’t have a very suspicious nature—”

“A correctly suspicious nature,” Lindsay pointed out to both men.

“—you’d have gotten away with it.”

“I was planning to put it back,” Dylan defended.

“I need to see the designs,” said Zach, not a trace of apology in his tone. “My company, your company, pretend all you like, but I’m the guy signing the check. And I’m the guy left picking up the pieces once your game is over.”

“That game happens to be my life.” She wasn’t playing around here. If she didn’t fix her career, she didn’t have a job. If she didn’t have a job, there was nobody to pay rent, nobody to buy food.

He brought his hand down on the table. “And whatever’s left when the dust clears happens to be mine.”

Sick to death of the contest of wills, Kaitlin capitulated.

She waved a hand toward her briefcase. “Fine. Go ahead. There’s nothing you can do to change them anyway. You don’t like ‘em, complain all you want. I will ignore you.”

Zach wasted no time in snagging the briefcase from the bench seat between him and Lindsay. He snapped open the clasps, lifted the lid and extracted the folded plans. He awkwardly spread them out on the round table.

Just then, the waiter arrived and glanced around for a place to set the coffee.

Zach ignored him, and the man signaled for a folding tray stand.

Kaitlin accepted a coffee. She took her cup in her hand, sipping it while she sat back to wait for Zach’s reaction.

She suspected he’d be angry. Her designs called for some pretty fundamental and expensive changes to his building. But a small part of her couldn’t help but hope he’d surprise her.

Maybe he had better taste than she thought. Maybe he’d recognize her genius. Maybe he’d—

“Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind?” His gray eyes all but glowed in anger.

Five

In the restaurant’s parking garage, Lindsay twisted the key in the ignition of her silver Audi Coupe and pushed the shifter into Reverse. They peeled out of the narrow parking spot and into the driving lane.

“I suppose that could have been worse,” Kaitlin admitted as they zipped toward the exit from the underground.

Zach had hated the renovation designs. No big surprise there. But since they were in a public place, he couldn’t very well yell at her. So, that was a plus. And she wouldn’t change them. He could gripe as much as he liked about a modern lobby not being in keeping with his corporate image, but they both knew it was about money.

Lindsay pressed a folded bill into the parking lot attendant’s hand. “He stole your briefcase.”

“I knew not seeing them was making him crazy,” said Kaitlin, still getting over the shock at this turn of events. “But I sure didn’t think he’d go that far.”

Lindsay flipped on her signal, watching the traffic on the busy street. “All that righteous indignation, the insistence on principles.”

“I know,” Kaitlin added rapidly in agreement. “The lectures, the protestations, and then wham.” She smacked her hands together. “He steals the drawings right out from under my nose.”

“I’m not a pirate,” Lindsay mocked as she quickly took the corner, into a small space in traffic. “Nobody in my family was ever a pirate.”

Kaitlin turned to stare at her friend. “What?”

“We have morals and principles.”

“Are you talking about Zach?”

“Zach didn’t steal your drawings.”

“He sure did,” said Kaitlin.

“Dylan was the guy with the briefcase in his hands.”

“Only because Zach asked him to get it. Dylan’s just being loyal.”

“Ha!” Lindsay coughed out a laugh.

“Linds?” Kaitlin searched her friend’s profile.

Lindsay changed lanes on the brightly lit street, setting up for a left turn. “What?”

“I say again. Do you think you’re getting a little obsessed with Dylan Gilby?”

“The man’s a thief and a reprobate.”

“Maybe. But Zach’s our problem.”

Lindsay didn’t answer. She adjusted her rearview mirror then changed the radio station.

“I think Zach’ll leave it alone now,” she said. “I mean, he’s seen the drawings. He gave it his best—”

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