Marriage Made on Paper (2 page)

“So, is this lecture your form of consent?”

“Yes,” she said, not missing a beat.

“I want you to work with me personally. I don’t want anyone else on your team involved with my account. It has to be you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“The building project in Thailand is already controversial, which has my shareholders clutching their wallets in terror.”

“And what about the Thailand project is controversial?”

“The fear that by building more resorts we’re distorting local culture. That such a Westernized focus doesn’t show people the real Thailand. That we’re giving tourists a theme park rather than reality.”

“And are you?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter to you?”

“I don’t have to like you, Mr. Forrester, I just have to make sure everyone else does.”

“So, even if you did have a personal problem with the project?”

“Like the wedding bells, not an issue. This is business. My business is presenting your best to the public and to your shareholders.”

“I need to get the details hammered out as quickly as possible.” He leaned over and picked his briefcase up from the floor, opened it and pulled out a thick stack of papers. “This is the contract. If you need anything changed, let me know and we’ll discuss it. And you need to terminate your dealings with Jeff Campbell. One thing I require is that your firm no longer represent him in any capacity. Conflict of interest.”

“Of course.”

He looked at her, and reached across her desk, picking up her cell phone and holding it out to her.

“What? You want me to call now?”

“Time is money, or so I’ve heard.”

She snatched the phone from his hand and dialed Jeff’s number, her palms slick with sweat. She hated that he had the ability to make her lose her cool. It didn’t help that Jeff Campbell had definitely been giving her the “let’s make this business into pleasure” vibe. Which made terminating the contract sting just a little bit less, as the last thing she wanted to deal with was working with a man with sex on his brain.

The phone rang once before Jeff answered. “Hi, it’s Lily.”

Gage raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment.

“I know.” Jeff sounded far too pleased about it for her peace of mind, his tone of voice almost intimate. It made her skin crawl.

“I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, but I’ve been offered a better contract and I feel I can’t afford to turn it down.”

She listened while Jeff expressed his disappointment, in a very nice fashion, considering she was breaking a contract they’d drawn up a week ago. He was probably still hoping to get a date. Which was confirmed when he asked if they could meet over dinner to discuss it further.

“Sorry. I’m going to be really busy with … work. Because of the contract. The new one.” Gage’s blue eyes were locked on her and it was making her nervous, which she hated. Men never upset her personal balance. She never let them close enough to do that.

“There’s a monetary penalty for terminating the contract,” Jeff said, his voice icy now.

“I know. I was there when the addition was made and I read the contract thoroughly before I signed it.” She looked at Gage, trying to judge his reaction. “But this is a business move that I feel I have to make. It’s the best thing for my company.”

“So ethics, fulfilling your commitments, aren’t as important as money?”

Ouch. She took a breath. “It’s business, Jeff. In my position you would do the same. Business is business,” she said, unconsciously echoing Gage’s earlier statement.

“You certainly never treated it like it was only a business arrangement.” The inference and the venom in his tone shocked her. Though she knew it shouldn’t. Men seemed to think a polite greeting meant she wanted to hop into bed with them. And that was their problem, not hers.

“Sorry to have given you the wrong impression,” she
bit out, conscious of Gage’s close study of her. “But as far as I’m concerned, yes, it was only a business arrangement. And now, it’s a defunct business arrangement.”

Gage took the phone from her hand, his expression far too satisfied for her liking. “Just wanted to affirm that Lily is working for me now.”

And now Lily felt like a treat being fought over by two dogs, and it was not pretty. She didn’t like that she was in the middle of some kind of alpha war. And the feeling was only magnified by the fact that Jeff had, apparently, assumed she was interested in him as more than just a source of income.

She could hear the tone, not the words, to Jeff’s curt reply before Gage snapped her phone shut and set it back on the desk.

She stood up and rounded the desk, reckless anger coursing through her. “This is my office, Mr. Forrester. I might be working for you but I expect you to remember that.”

“You’re working for me, Ms. Ford, that’s the bottom line, whether we’re in your office or mine.” His blue eyes held that steel that made him so successful.

On the outside he might seem like the kind of man who didn’t take life seriously. The endless succession of models and actresses on his arms saw that he featured in the tabloids regularly, and he’d garnered a reputation as a playboy. But she knew that he hadn’t reached the level of success he had without an edge of ruthlessness. He didn’t often put it on show, but then, he wouldn’t have to. The man radiated power. And beneath that she sensed that he had the soul of a predator. The fact that he was in her office now was proof of that.

At one time that would have intimidated her.
He
would have intimidated her. But not anymore. She was
an up-and-coming player in the business world, and she wasn’t going to reach her destination by backing down.

But she hadn’t gotten where she was by being stupid, either, and even if she was angry beyond reason that Gage was usurping her authority in her own office, she wasn’t about to spar with her brand-new boss.

“I apologize,” she said, lowering the register of her voice, trying to project a calmer demeanor than she currently felt capable of projecting. “But I have to confess I’m a little bit controlling and I can be very territorial.”

Gage tried to ignore the tightening in his gut. The woman practically purred when she spoke. And when she stood from her desk, she sauntered around to the other side, her walk as slinky and liquid as a cat’s, her curves enough to remind him why it was so good to be a man.

She was stunning, not like the women he usually dated with their breezy West Coast manner, and their fake-and-bake tans. She was more like a museum display. Refined, elegant and partitioned off with thick velvet rope. She had Do Not Touch signs all over her, and yet, like a museum display, that made her all the more tempting.

She tilted her head and put one perfectly manicured hand on her shapely hip. Her skirt-and-jacket combo was expertly tailored to skim her curves, revealing her figure, but not in an obvious way. Her dark brown hair was twisted into a neat bun and her pale, flawless skin, rare in the sun-obsessed state of California, had just the right amount of makeup to look a bit more perfect than nature allowed.

“What are your terms?” she asked.

“My terms?”

“What do you expect from me so that I may be worthy of the somewhat exorbitant sum you’re offering me?”

She had attitude, but that was a good thing. She would be dealing with the media on his behalf, and in order to do that, she was going to need a backbone of steel. She seemed eager to prove that it was firmly in place.

“If you really think the sum is exorbitant I could always offer you less.”

“I could never turn down your generosity, it would be rude.”

He chuckled. “Well, in the interest of good manners, by all means, accept it. As for the rest, I expect you to be on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I have projects happening all over the world in several different time zones, that means it’s always business hours. That means if something happens and I need my PR specialist, you have to be available. I can’t afford for you be off on a hot date.”

“Your chauvinistic nature is showing again, but I assure you that nothing takes priority over my job. Not even hot dates.” She quirked a dark eyebrow, her brown eyes glittering. She liked this, challenging him, he could tell. And he took it as a good sign. His last public relations specialist had cracked under the pressure in less than a year. It was a hard business, even harder in his industry and with his level of visibility in the media. The fact that Lily seemed to enjoy a little bit of friction was a good sign.

“In that case why don’t you get down to the business of signing your life away to me?” he said.

A faint smile curved her berry-painted lips and she
turned to face her desk, grabbed a pen out of the holder and bent over slightly so that she could sign the contract. It was a pose she had to know was provocative. Her fitted pencil skirt cupped the round curve of her butt so snugly he couldn’t help but admire the flawless shape. And she had to know that. Women always knew. No wonder Jeff Campbell had assumed she’d been making a play for him. Deluded idiot. Lily wasn’t making an offer, she was out to intimidate. And on most men, he could see how it might work. But not on him.

She straightened and turned, her jaw set, her expression one of satisfied determination. She extended her hand and he took it. She shook it firmly, her dark eyes shining with triumph.

“I look forward to doing business with you, Mr. Forrester.”

He laughed. “You say that now, Ms. Ford, but you haven’t started the job yet.”

T
HE
fact that the very first thing she felt when Gage’s deep, masculine voice pulled her out of the deep sleep she’d been in was a shiver of excitement, and not a pang of annoyance, was disturbing on a lot of levels, all of which she was too tired to analyze in that moment.

“It’s one in the morning, Gage.” Lily blinked against the blinding light radiating from the screen of her smart-phone. After four months in his employ, she should know better than to be surprised by a midnight phone call.

“It’s nine a.m. in England.”

“And we have a crisis on our hands?” She rolled over and brushed her hair out of her face, the cool sheets from the side of the bed that had been unoccupied chilling her slightly.

“The sky isn’t falling, if that’s what you mean, but we have protesters lining the streets at our newest building site and I need a press release that will help cool things down.”

“Now?”

“Preferably before the mob tears down the foundation of our new hotel,” he bit out.

Lily sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, pushing the button for speakerphone and bringing
up the specs of the project up on the screen. “What’s the issue?”

“Environmental impact.”

She studied the report. “It’s a green build. Recycled materials are being used for as much of the hotel as possible, anything that isn’t is being purchased locally and it’s helping to stimulate local economy.”

“Good. Put all of that in a press release and get it sent.”

“Just a second. I was in bed. Asleep. Like a normal person,” she said, sleep depravation making her grumpy.

She stood and made her way to her desk, which she had moved a mere foot away from her bed just for such occasions. Her laptop was still fired up, so she sat down, dashed off all of the necessary info and emailed it to Gage. “How’s that?”

“Good,” he responded a few moments later. “What do you suggest? Written or verbal?”

“Both. Call down there and see if you can speak to someone on the phone. I’ll contact the local news station. Then we’ll work on getting it into online editions of the papers today and print for tomorrow. That ought to defuse things, as much as possible anyway. They still might not be happy about the build in general, but if you show that you’re conscientious it should go a long way in smoothing things over, at least with the general public, which is really the best you can hope for.”

“You really are good,” he said, that voice sending a little frisson of … something … through her again. She’d thought she would get used to him in the months since he’d walked into her office and hired her. In a lot of ways she had, but he still had the ability to throw her off balance if she wasn’t prepared for him.

“I’m the best, Gage,” she said sharply, “don’t forget it.”

“How can I? You never let me.”

“I hope you mean in deed rather than word,” she said archly.

“Take your pick.”

“All right. I’m going to call some televisions stations and then I’m going back to bed.”

“Fine, but I need you in the office by five.”

She bit back a groan. “Of course.” It was likely he was already at the office. Between work and dalliances with supermodels she wasn’t sure if Gage Forrester ever slept.

She hung up the phone and proceeded to make her phone calls before falling back into bed. She could get two good hours before she had to be in the office.

And why did Gage’s voice seem to be echoing in her mind while she tried to drift off?

She walked into Gage’s office at 4:59 a.m. with two industrial-sized cups of coffee. “Thought you might need a hit,” she said, setting the cup down in front of him.

He looked up from his computer screen. Annoyingly, despite the five-o’clock shadow he was sporting he looked fresh and well-rested, while she knew she had puffy eyes that were just barely made to look normal by gobs of under-eye cream.

“I definitely need a hit,” he said, picking up the cup and bringing it to his lips. She couldn’t help but watch him, the way his lips moved to cover the opening of the lid, the slight view of his tongue. His mouth fascinated her. Like the effect his voice seemed to have on her,
she was certain she didn’t want to know why his mouth fascinated her.

Well, she knew why. It was the same reason an endless stream of beautiful women were constantly on his arm. The same reason she did as much talking to the press about his personal life as she did about his professional life. Gage Forrester was one sexy man. Even she could admit that.

In theory, she liked sexy men, at least from a distance. When said sexy man was her boss, it made life a bit more complicated. It didn’t really matter, though. Business was business and she had no intention of crossing any lines with him. She wasn’t his type anyway. He liked party girls. The shallower, and the shorter the skirt, the better. And he definitely wasn’t her type. Of course, she wasn’t entirely certain what her type was as far as practical application went. Judging by her recent string of failed dates she didn’t really have a type.