A Business Engagement

скачать книгу бесплатно


That left the rest of the day to try to rationalize her unexpected reaction to his kiss and make a half-dozen futile attempts to reach Gina. All the while the clock marched steadily, inexorably toward her deadline.

* * *

Dev shot a glance at the bank of clocks lining one wall of the conference room. Four-fifteen. A little less than four hours to the go/no-go point.

He tuned out the tanned-and-toned executive at the head of the gleaming mahogany conference table. The man had been droning on for almost forty minutes now. His equally slick associates had nodded and ahemed and interjected several editorial asides about the fat military contract they were confident their company would win.

Dev knew better. They’d understated their start-up costs so blatantly the Pentagon procurement folks would laugh these guys out of the competition. Dev might have chalked this trip to NYC as a total waste of time if not for his meeting with Sarah St. Sebastian.

Based on the profile he’d had compiled on her, he’d expected someone cool, confident, levelheaded and fiercely loyal to both the woman who’d raised her and the sibling who gave her such grief. What he hadn’t expected was her inbred elegance. Or the kick to his gut when she’d walked into the restaurant last night. Or the hours he’d spent afterward remembering her taste and her scent and the press of her body against his.

His visceral reaction to the woman could be a potential glitch in his plan. He needed a decoy. A temporary fiancée to blunt the effect of that ridiculous article. Someone to act as a buffer between him and the total strangers hitting on him everywhere he went—and the French CEO’s wife who’d whispered such suggestive obscenities in his ear.

Sarah St. Sebastian was the perfect solution to those embarrassments. She’d proved as much last night when she’d cut Red off at the knees. Problem was the feel of her, the taste of her, had damned near done the same to Dev. The delectable Sarah could well prove more of a distraction than the rest of the bunch rolled up together.

So what the hell should he do now? Call her and tell her the deal he’d offered was no longer on the table? Write off the loss of the medallion? Track Gina down and recover the piece himself?

The artifact itself wasn’t the issue, of course. Dev had lost more in the stock market in a single day than that bit of gold and enamel was worth. The only reason he’d pursued it this far was that he didn’t like getting ripped off any more than the next guy. That, and the damned Ten Sexiest Singles article. He’d figured he could leverage the theft of the medallion into a temporary fiancée.

Which brought him full circle. What should he do about Sarah? His conscience had pinged at him last night. It was lobbing 50mm mortar shells now.

Dev had gained a rep in the multibillion-dollar world of aerospace manufacturing for being as tough as boot leather, but honest. He’d never lied to a competitor or grossly underestimated a bid like these jokers were doing now. Nor had he ever resorted to blackmail. Dev shifted uncomfortably, feeling as prickly about the one-sided deal he’d offered Sarah as by the patently false estimates Mr. Smooth kept flashing up on the screen.

To hell with it. He could take care of at least one of those itches right now.

“Excuse me, Jim.”

Tanned-and-toned broke off in midspiel. He and his associates turned eager faces to Dev.

“We’ll have to cut this short,” he said without a trace of apology. “I’ve got something hanging fire that I thought could wait. I need to take care of it now.”

Jim and company concealed their disappointment behind shark-toothed smiles. Professional courtesy dictated that Devon offer a palliative.

“Why don’t you email me the rest of your presentation? I’ll study it on the flight home.”

Tanned-and-toned picked up an in-house line and murmured an order to his AV folks. When he replaced the receiver, his smile sat just a few degrees off center.

“It’s done, Dev.”

“Thanks, Jimmy. I’ll get back to you when I’ve had a chance to review your numbers in a little more depth.”

Ole Jim’s smile slipped another couple of degrees but he managed to hang on to its remnants as he came around the table to pump Devon’s hand.

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you. Soon, I hope.”

“By the end of the week,” Devon promised, although he knew Mr. Smooth wouldn’t like what he had to say.

He decided to wait until he was in the limo and headed back to his hotel to contact Sarah. As the elevator whisked him down fifty stories, he tried to formulate exactly what he’d say to her.

His cell phone buzzed about twenty stories into the descent. Dev answered with his customary curt response, blissfully unaware a certain green-eyed brunette was just seconds away from knocking his world off its axis.

“Hunter.”

“Mr. Hunter... Dev... It’s Sarah St. Sebastian.”

“Hello, Sarah. Have you heard from Gina?”

“Yes. Well, sort of.”

Hell! So much for his nagging guilt over coercing this woman into a fake engagement. All Devon felt now was a searing disappointment that it might not take place. The feeling was so sharp and surprisingly painful he almost missed her next comment.

“Gina’s on her way to Switzerland. Or she was when she texted me last night.”

“What’s in...?”

He broke off, knowing the answer before he asked the question. Bankers in Switzerland would commit hara-kiri before violating the confidentiality of deals brokered under their auspices. What better place to sell—and deposit the proceeds of—a near-priceless piece of antiquity?

“So where does that leave us?”

It came out stiffer than he’d intended. She responded in the same vein.

“I’m still trying to reach Gina. If I can’t...”

The elevator reached the lobby. Dev stepped out, the phone to his ear and his adrenaline pumping the way it did when his engineers were close to some innovative new concept or major modification to the business of hauling cargo.

“If you can’t?” he echoed.

“I don’t see I have any choice but to agree to your preposterous offer.”

She spelled it out. Slowly. Tightly. As if he’d forgotten the conditions he’d laid down last night.

“Six months as your fiancée. Less if you complete the negotiations you’re working on. In return, you don’t press charges against my sister. Correct?”

“Correct.” Crushing his earlier doubts, he pounced. “So we have a deal?”

“On one condition.”

A dozen different contingency clauses flashed through his mind. “And that is?” he said cautiously.

“You have to come for cocktails this evening. Seven o’clock. My grandmother wants to meet you.”

Four

Dev frowned at his image in the elevator’s ornate mirror and adjusted his tie. He was damned if he knew why he was so nervous about meeting Charlotte St. Sebastian.

He’d flown into combat zones more times than he could count, for God’s sake. He’d also participated in relief missions to countries devastated by fires, tsunamis, earthquakes, horrific droughts and bloody civil wars. More than once his aircraft had come under enemy fire. And he still carried the scar from the hit he’d taken while racing through a barrage of bullets to get a sobbing, desperate mother and her wounded child aboard before murderous rebels overran the airport.

Those experiences had certainly shaped Dev’s sense of self. Building an aerospace design-and-manufacturing empire from the ground up only solidified that self-confidence. He now rubbed elbows with top-level executives and power brokers around the world. Charlotte St. Sebastian wouldn’t be the first royal he’d met, or even the highest ranking.

Yet the facts Dev had gathered about the St. Sebastian family painted one hell of an intimidating picture of its matriarch. The woman had once stood next in line to rule a duchy with a history that spanned some seven hundred years. She’d been forced to witness her husband’s execution by firing squad. Most of her remaining family had disappeared forever in the notorious gulags. Charlotte herself had gone into hiding with her infant daughter and endured untold hardships before escaping to the West.

That would be heartbreak enough for anyone. Yet the duchess had also been slammed with the tragic death of her daughter and son-in-law, then had raised her two young granddaughters alone. Few, if any, of her friends and acquaintances were aware that she maintained only the facade of what appeared to be a luxurious lifestyle. Dev knew because he’d made it his business to learn everything he could about the St. Sebastians after beautiful, bubbly Lady Eugenia had lifted the Byzantine medallion.

He could have tracked Gina down. Hell, anyone with a modicum of computer smarts could track a GPS-equipped cell phone these days. Dev had considered doing just that until he’d realized her elder sister was better suited for his purposes. Plus, there was the bonus factor of where Sarah St. Sebastian worked. It had seemed only fair that he get a little revenge for the annoyance caused by that article.

Except, he thought as he exited the elevator, revenge had a way of coming back to bite you in the ass. What had seemed like a solid plan when he’d first devised it was now generating some serious doubts. Could he keep his hands off the elegant elder sister and stick to the strict terms of their agreement? Did he want to?

The doubts dogged him right up until he pressed the button for the doorbell. He heard a set of melodic chimes, and his soon-to-be fiancée opened the door to him.

“Hello, Mr.... Dev.”

She was wearing chunky pearls, a thigh-skimming little dress and black tights tonight. The pearls and gray dress gave her a personal brand of sophistication, but the tights showcased her legs in a way that made Dev’s throat go bone-dry. He managed to untangle his tongue long enough to return her greeting.

“Hello, Sarah.”

“Please, come in.”

She stood aside to give him access to a foyer longer than the belly of a C-17 and almost as cavernous. Marble tiles, ornate wall sconces, a gilt-edged side table and a crystal bowl filled with something orange blossomy. Dev absorbed the details along with the warning in Sarah’s green eyes.

“I’ve told my grandmother that you and Gina are no more than casual acquaintances,” she confided in a low voice.

“That’s true enough.”

“Yes, well...” She drew in a breath and squared shoulders molded by gray silk. “Let’s get this over with.”

She led the way down the hall. Dev followed and decided the rear view was as great as the front. The dress hem swayed just enough to tease and tantalize. The tights clung faithfully to the curve of her calves.

He was still appreciating the view when she showed him into a high-ceilinged room furnished with a mix of antiques and a few pieces of modern technology. The floor here was parquet; the wood was beautifully inlaid, but cried for the cushioning of a soft, handwoven carpet to blunt some of its echo. Windows curtained in pale blue velvet took up most of two walls and gave what Dev guessed was one hell of a view of Central Park. Flames danced in the massive fireplace fronted in black marble that dominated a third wall.

A sofa was angled to catch the glow from the fire. Two high-backed armchairs faced the sofa across a monster coffee table inset with more marble. The woman on one of those chairs sat ramrod straight, with both palms resting on the handle of an ebony cane. Her gray hair was swept up into a curly crown and anchored by ivory combs. Lace wrapped her throat like a muffler and was anchored by a cameo brooch. Her hawk’s eyes skewered Dev as he crossed the room.

Sarah summoned a bright smile and performed the introductions. “Grandmama, this is Devon Hunter.”

“How do you do, Mr. Hunter?”

The duchess held out a veined hand. Dev suspected that courtiers had once dropped to a knee and kissed it reverently. He settled for taking it gently in his.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Gina told me she’d inherited her stunning looks from her grandmother. She obviously had that right.”

“Indeed?” Her chin lifted. Her nose angled up a few degrees. “You know Eugenia well, then?”

“She coordinated a party for me. We spoke on a number of occasions.”

“Do sit down, Mr. Hunter.” She waved him to the chair across from hers. “Sarah, dearest, please pour Mr. Hunter a drink.”

“Certainly. What would you like, Dev?”

“Whatever you and your grandmother are having is fine.”

“I’m having white wine.” Her smile tipped into one of genuine affection as she moved to a side table containing an opened bottle of wine nested in a crystal ice bucket and an array of decanters. “Grandmama, however, is ignoring her doctor’s orders and sipping an abominable brew concocted by our ancestors back in the sixteenth century.”