The CEO's Accidental Bride (9 page)

He moved her backward, pressing her against the office wall. His hands slipped down, cupping her tight little bottom, resisting an urge to drag her sharply against his hardening body. He was on fire for her.

His hands went to her hair, stroking through the softness, cradling her gorgeous face while he peppered kisses, tracing
a line over her tiny ear, down the curve of her neck, along her shoulders, to the edge of her soft silk blouse.

Her fingers twined in his hairline. Her lips parted farther, her tongue finding his, her perfect breasts pushing tightly against his chest, beading so that he could feel them. She stretched up, coming onto her toes, fusing her mouth with his, and slid her hands beneath his jacket.

Those small hands were hot through the cotton of his shirt. He wanted to rip it off, strip her bare, hold her naked body against his own and finish what they kept starting.

But a jangling phone penetrated his brain. Sounds from the outer office came back into focus. He heard Amy's voice. Someone answered, and he came to the abrupt realization of where they were.

He forced himself to stop, cradled Kaitlin's head against his shoulder, breathing deeply, all anger toward her having evaporated.

“We did it again,” he breathed.

She stiffened, pulling away. “This is why I didn't want the door closed.”

He let her go, pretending it wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done. Then he forced a note of sarcasm into his voice, refusing to let her see just how badly she made him lose control. “You don't trust yourself?”

“I don't trust
you,
” she told him for at least the third time.

Fair enough. He didn't trust himself, either.

But it wasn't all him. It definitely hadn't all been him.

She straightened her blouse and smoothed her hair. “What is it you needed to see me about?”

Zach forced himself to turn away. Looking at her was only asking for more trouble.

“Can we sit?” He gestured to two padded chairs at angles to each other in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows.

Without a word, she crossed to one of them and sat down, fixing her focus on a point on the skyline outside, folding her hands primly in front of her.

Zach's hormones were still raging, but he inhaled a couple
of bracing breaths, taking a seat and focusing his own attention on a seascape painting on the wall past Kaitlin's right ear.

“I just spoke to my grandmother's lawyer,” he explained, composing and discarding a number of approaches on the fly. He had to convince her to pull back on the renovations. It was more important than ever, and he couldn't afford to screw this conversation up.

Kaitlin's attention moved to his face, her lips pursing, green eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

He gave up and met her gaze. She was so damn gorgeous, feisty, challenging. Even now, he wanted to take her back into his arms and change the mood between them. “Just what I said.”

“What happened?” She jerked forward in her chair. “Am I out of the will? Did you find a loophole? Are you firing me?” Then she jumped to her feet. “If you're firing me, you should have said something before…” She gestured with a sweeping arm, across the office to the spot where they'd kissed. “Before…”

Zach stood with her. “I am
not
firing you. Now, will you sit back down.”

She watched him warily. “Then what's this about?”

“Sit down, and I'll tell you.” He gestured to her chair and waited.

She glared at him but finally sat.

He followed suit, refocusing. This wasn't going well. It was not going well at all. “A problem has come to light with my grandmother's charitable trust.”

Kaitlin's features remained schooled and neutral.

“There's been some money—a lot of money—embezzled from the bank account by a former employee.”

He paused to see if she'd react, but she waited in silence.

Zach leaned slightly forward, his feet braced apart on the carpet in front of him, choosing his words carefully. “Therefore, I am going to have to shift some cash from Harper Transportation to the trust fund, or some of her projects will collapse, like the after-school tutoring programs and hot lunches.”

Kaitlin finally spoke. “Do you need me to sign something?”

Zach shook his head.

“Then what?”

“Harper Transportation's cash flow will be tight for the next year or so.” He mentally braced himself. “So we may need to talk seriously about scaling back on the renovation—”

“Oh, no, you don't.” She emphatically crossed her arms.

“Let me—”

“You mess with my emotions.”

“I'm not messing with anything,” he protested.

“Try to put me off balance,” she accused.

“I'm offering you honesty and reason.” He was. He was giving her the bald truth of the matter.

“One minute we're kissing—” she snapped her fingers in the air “—next, you're asking for concessions.”

His anger trickled back. “The two were
not
related.”

“Well, it won't work this time, Mr. Zachary Harper.” She tossed her pretty hair, tone going to a scoff. “Embezzlement from dear ol' granny's charitable fund, my ass.”

“You think I'm
lying?
”

“Yes.”

What was the matter with her? He had documentation. It was the easiest thing in the world to prove.

“I'll show you the account statements,” he offered. “The bank records.”

“You can show me anything you want, Zach. Any high-school kid with a laptop and a printer in his basement can fake financial statements.”

“You doubt the integrity of my accountants?”

“I doubt the integrity of
you.
” She came to her feet again, color high, chin raised, shoulders squared, looking entirely ready for battle.

Once again, he rose with her.

Though her hair was in an updo, she swiped her hands behind her ears, tugging at both gold earrings. “You've tried evasion, coercion, outright threats, theft, seduction and now emotional manipulation.”

He clenched his jaw, biting back an angry retort.

“Good grief, Zach. Granny, a charity and hungry kids? I'm surprised you didn't add a dying puppy to the mix.” She tapped her index finger against her chest. “I am renovating, and I am doing it my way. And for that, you get half a corporation and a divorce decree. It's a bargain, and you should quit trying to change the terms.”

Zach fumed, but bit back his words. He knew that anything he said would make things worse. A contingency strategy was his only hope. And he was all out of frickin' contingency strategies.

Having apparently said her piece, Kaitlin squared her shoulders. She put her sculpted nose in the air and turned on her heel to leave.

As the door shut firmly behind her, Zach unclenched his fists. He closed his eyes for a long second. Then he dropped into his chair.

The woman was past impossible.

She was suspicious. She was determined. And she was oh, so sexy.

She was going to bring down a three-hundred-year-old dynasty, and he had no idea how to stop her.

 

“Plan C is a bust,” he informed Dylan, spinning the near empty glass of single malt on the polished, corner table at McDougals.

Dylan dropped into the padded leather chair opposite, nodding to Zach's drink. “Well, at least you waited until five.”

“I'm lucky I made it past noon.” How could one woman be so frustrating? Her renovation plans went way beyond repairing her reputation. What she was planning to do to his building was just plain punitive.

Dylan signaled a waiter.

“I talked to a couple dozen more people today,” said Zach. “Nothing's changed. I can get her an entry-level job, easy. But nothing that comes close to the opportunity she has at Harper Transportation.”

The waiter quickly took Dylan's order and left.

Dylan shrugged in capitulation. “So, give it up. Let her go for it. You'll have a weird, incredibly expensive building. And you'll live with it.”

“She's adding three stories,” Zach reminded Dylan. “Knocking out nearly five floors for the lobby. Did you see the marble pillars? The saltwater fish tank?”

Dylan gave a shrug. “I thought they were a nice touch.”

“I bailed out Sadie's charity today.”

“Why?”

“Some jackass embezzled ten million dollars. My cash flow just tanked completely. So, tell me, Dylan, do I sell off a ship or slow down repairs?”

Dylan's expression and tone immediately turned serious. “You need a loan?”

“No.” Zach gave a firm shake of his head. “More debt is not the answer.”

“Another partner? You want to sell me some shares?”

“And be a minor partner in my own company? I don't think so. Anyway, I'm not mixing business with friendship.” Zach appreciated the offer. But this problem was his to solve.

“Fair enough,” Dylan agreed. “What are your options?”

“Nothing.” Zach took a drink. He needed Kaitlin to scale back on the renovation. Short of that, his options were very limited.

Selling a ship was a stupid idea. So was slowing down repairs. He'd need the entire fleet up and running so they could capitalize on any rise in demand. A company the size of Harper Transportation had to have serious cash flow to keep going. More ships, more cash flow. Fewer ships would result in a downward spiral that could prove fatal.

“Always the optimist,” said Dylan, accepting his own glass of Glenlivet from the waiter.

Zach tossed back a swallow. “Kaitlin is going to bankrupt me, and there's absolutely nothing I can do to stop her.”

Dylan's voice went serious again. “What exactly do you need her to do?”

Zach spun the glass again. “Come to her senses.”

“Zach. Seriously. Quit wallowing in self-pity.”

Zach took a bracing breath. “Okay. Right. I need her to scale back. Build me a reasonable quality, standard office building. No marble pillars. No fountains. No palm trees. And no mahogany arch. And especially no two-thousand-gallon saltwater aquarium.”

Dylan thought about it for a moment. “So, make her want to do just that.”

“How?” Zach demanded. “I've tried everything from bribery to reason. It's like trying to use a rowboat to turn the
Queen Mary
around.”

Dylan was quiet for a few more minutes. Zach tried to focus his thoughts. He tried to get past the emotions clouding his brain and think rationally. But it didn't seem to be working.

“What about Sadie?” asked Dylan.

“What about her?” Zach didn't follow.

“Sadie left Kaitlin the company.”

“And?” How was that a plus in Zach's present circumstances?

“And Kaitlin would have to be downright callous not to care about what Sadie would want.”

“You think I should convince Kaitlin to respect Sadie's wishes?” That would be an awful lot easier if Sadie had actually left wishes. But her only wish seemed to be for Zach's wife to control him.

Dylan lifted his glass in a toast, ice cube clinking against the crystal. “That's exactly what I think you should do.”

“What wishes? Where wishes? Sadie left no wishes, Dylan.”

“Would she want a flashy, avant-garde showpiece?”

“Of course not.” Zach's grandmother Sadie was all about heritage and tradition. She had been the guardian of the Harper family history Zach's entire life, and she had an abiding respect for everyone that went before her.

“Then help Kaitlin learn that,” Dylan suggested.

Zach couldn't see that happening. “She's already accused me of emotionally manipulating her.”

“Did you?”

“No.” Zach paused. “Well, I made a couple of passes at her. But it wasn't manipulation. It was plain old lust.”

“Better stop doing that.” Dylan drank.

“No kidding.” Though, if Zach was realistic, it was probably a whole lot easier said than done.

Zach still couldn't see Dylan's plan working. “I doubt she'll listen to me long enough to learn about Sadie. And, even if she does, she'll assume I'm lying.” At this point, there was no way Kaitlin would believe anything Zach said.

“Don't tell her about Sadie.”

“Then how…” Zach tapped his index finger impatiently against the table.

Dylan gave a secretive little smile and polished off his drink. “Show her Sadie.”

Zach gave his head a shake of incomprehension, holding his hands palms up.

“Take her to the island,” said Dylan. “Show her Sadie's handiwork. Then ask her to design something for the office building that respects your grandmother. Kaitlin seems pretty smart. She'll get it.”

Zach stilled. It wasn't a half-bad idea. In fact, it was a brilliant idea.

He let out a chopped laugh. “And you claim to be honest and principled.”

“I'm not suggesting you lie to her.”

“But you are frighteningly devious.”

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “And I've got your back.”

“H
e's after something,” Kaitlin said as Lindsay plunked a large take-out pizza from Agapitos on Kaitlin's small, dining room table. “A guy doesn't make an offer like that for no reason.”

Lindsay returned to the foyer, kicked off her shoes and dropped her purse, refastening her ponytail.

It was Sunday afternoon. The Mets game was starting on the sports channel, and both women were dressed in casual sweatpants, loose T-shirts and cozy socks.

“No argument from me,” she said as she followed Kaitlin into the compact kitchen area of the apartment. “My point is only that you should say yes.”

Kaitlin pulled open the door to her freezer and extracted a bag of ice cubes. “And play into his hands?”

Lindsay's voice turned dreamy. “A private island? Mansions? All that delicious pirate history? I don't care what he's up to, we're going to have one hell of a weekend.”

Kaitlin paused, blender lid in her hand, and stared at Lindsay. “We?”

The announcer's voice called a long fly ball, and both
women turned to watch the television in the living room. The hit was caught deep in center field, and they both groaned their disappointment before turning back to the drink making.

Lindsay hopped up on one of the two wooden stools in front of the small breakfast bar, pushed aside the weekend newspaper and leaned on her elbows. “You're not going to Serenity Island without me.”

“I'm not going to Serenity Island at all.” Kaitlin dumped a dozen ice cubes into the blender. There was no way in the world she'd spend an entire weekend with Zach.

“It's the chance of a lifetime,” Lindsay insisted.

“Only for those of us with a pirate fetish.” Kaitlin added mango, pineapple, iced tea, mint and vodka to the ice cubes, mixing up their secret recipe for mango madness. It was a Sunday tradition, along with the take-out pizza and a baseball game.

“It's not a fetish,” Lindsay informed her tartly. “It's more of an obsession.”

Kaitlin hit the button on the blender, filling the apartment with the grinding noise. “You want to sleep with a pirate,” she called above the din. “That's a fetish. Look it up.”

Lindsay's grin was unrepentant. “First off, I have to prove he's a pirate.”

With the mixture blended, Kaitlin hit the off switch and poured it into two tall glasses. Lindsay shifted back to her feet, headed for a cupboard and grabbed a couple of stoneware plates and put a slice of pizza on each of them.

“Here's something,” Kaitlin began as they made their way back to the living room. “Put on that red-and-gold dress, and the Vishashi shoes, then tell him you'll sleep with him if he admits he's a pirate.” She stepped to one side so that Lindsay could go around and take her usual spot on the couch beside the window.

“That's not ethical,” said Lindsay with a note of censure.

Kaitlin scoffed out a laugh. “As opposed to arriving on his island to gather evidence against him?”

“It's not like I'm going to break into his house,” Lindsay offered reasonably.

“You're definitely not going to break into his house, since we're
not going.
”

“Spoilsport.”

Kaitlin settled on the couch and snagged one of the plates of pizza, gaze resting on the baseball game while she took a bite of the hot pepperoni and gooey cheese. She sighed as the comfort food hit her psyche. “I don't want to think about it anymore.”

“Going to Serenity Island?”

“Zach. The renovation. The arguments. The kisses. Everything. I'm tired. I just want to sit here, watch the game and dull my senses with fat and carbs.”

“That seems like a big waste of time.” But Lindsay took a bite of the Agapitos, extrathick, stuffed-crust pizza and stared at the action on the television screen in silence.

Though Kaitlin tried to concentrate on the players, her mind kept switching back to Zach and his possible motives for the invitation. “I wish I had your capacity for mental chess games,” she ventured out loud.

“How exactly did he ask you?” asked Lindsay, shifting at her end of the couch so she was facing Kaitlin, obviously warming up for a good discussion.

Kaitlin thought back to the moment in her office. “He was polite—excruciatingly polite—and I think a little nervous. He said he wanted me to learn about his family, get a better understanding of his grandmother.”

“Any kisses, caresses, groping…?”

Kaitlin made a gesture that threatened to toss her pizza at Lindsay. “Just words.”

“Were you disappointed?”

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“Only a little.” Zach was one incredibly sexy man and, for better or worse, he turned Kaitlin on like there was no tomorrow. She couldn't stop it. She could barely fight the urge to act on it. Which was why visiting Serenity Island was one very, very bad idea.

There was a full count on the batter, and they both turned to watch Campbell swing and miss.

Kaitlin took a generous gulp of the mango madness. Then she gestured with her glass. “I know he's trying to outsmart me.”

“Good thing we're onto him,” Lindsay said.

“He gets me alone, he'll try seducing me. I know he thinks it's to his advantage.” And it probably was. She couldn't think straight when he kissed her. Heck, she couldn't think straight when he looked at her.

“So turn the tables on him.”

“Huh?”

“Seduce him back.”

Kaitlin nearly choked on her pizza. Seduce Zach?
Seduce
Zach? Why not just jump off the top of his building and be done with it? “Are you kidding me?”

“Two can play at that game, baby.” Lindsay gave a sage nod. “Women have been getting their own way through sex for thousands of years.”

“You want me to
sleep
with him?”

Zach was every woman's fantasy. He was rich, great-looking, smart and funny. He'd had women fawning over him since he was a teenager. He'd likely seen and done it all. It was laughable to think Kaitlin could hold her own in bed with Zach.

“He is your husband,” Lindsay pointed out.

“He's not that kind of a husband.”

“Okay. Forget that,” said Lindsay. “But look at it this way. If we don't go to the island, he'll try something else. If we go, he thinks he's winning. But we're onto him, and we'll be waiting for his next move.”

Kaitlin had to admit, Lindsay's logic had some merit. Trouble was, the thought of Zach's next move triggered a flare of desire that curled her toes.

 

They flew to Serenity Island in one of Dylan's Astral Air helicopters. It was the first time Kaitlin had flown anywhere. Vacations weren't part of her foster care upbringing, and airplane
tickets were not something she considered one of the necessities of life.

Their first stop after landing on the island was Dylan's parents' house. It was adjacent to the private helipad. The Gilby garage was home to a small fleet of golf carts that Kaitlin and Lindsay were informed were the only motor vehicles on the island.

David and Darcie Gilby were away in Chicago on business, but their various housekeepers and caretakers were in residence, along with Dylan's aunt Ginny, who greeted the four of them in the foyer in a bright red, 1950s swing dress with a multistrand pearl necklace and clip-on earrings.

“Young people,” she cried, taking both of Dylan's hands in her own. “So nice of you to bring company.”

Ginny was a very attractive woman for what must have been her age. Her face was wrinkled, but her short white hair was perfectly styled with flip curls at the ends, and her makeup was flawless. Two little white puff-ball dogs trotted across the floor, nails clicking on the hardwood until they stopped beside her.

“Hello, Auntie,” said Dylan, giving the woman a kiss on her powdered cheek. “How are you?”

“And which one of these lovely young ladies is yours?” asked Ginny, sizing up both Kaitlin and Lindsay, taking in their faces, hair and clothing as if they were in a pageant and she was the judge.

“We're just friends,” said Dylan.

One of the dogs gave a sharp bark.

“Nonsense.” Ginny winked at Kaitlin. “This young man's a catch.” She moved closer, voice lowering as if she was confiding a secret. “He has money, you know.”

Kaitlin couldn't help but grin.

“Now this one—” Ginny made a half turn and shook a wrinkled finger in Zach's direction “—he's always been a hoodlum.”

“Hello, Aunt Ginny,” said Zach, with what was obvious patience.

“Caught him in the linen closet with Patty Kostalnik.”

“Ginny,” Zach protested.

“Did you now?” Kaitlin asked the older woman, her inflection making her interest obvious.

“Or was it that Pansy girl?” Ginny screwed up her wrinkled face. “Never liked that one. She used to steal my crème de menthe. It was May, because the apple trees were blooming.”

Kaitlin slid a glance to Zach, enjoying his embarrassment.

He shook his head as if to deny the accusation.

“Kaitlin and Lindsay are staying at Zach's for a few days,” Dylan told his aunt Ginny.

“Nonsense,” Ginny retorted. “You need a wife, young man.” She moved between Kaitlin and Lindsay and took each of them by an arm. “They need to stay here so you can woo them. Which one do you want?”

“They're staying with Zach,” Dylan repeated.

Ginny clicked her tongue in admonishment. “You've got to learn to stand up for yourself. Don't let Zachary take them both.” She looked to Kaitlin. “You want him?”

Kaitlin felt herself blush. “I'm afraid I'm already—”

She turned to Lindsay, her voice a bark of demand. “What about you?”

“Sure,” said Lindsay with a mischievous grin. “Like you say, Dylan's a good catch.”

Ginny beamed, while Zach chuckled, and a look of horror came over Dylan's face.

Ginny drew Lindsay off to one side. “Right this way to the kitchen, young lady. You can help me with the pie.”

Dylan watched as they left the foyer and proceeded down a long hallway.

“You're not going with them?” asked Zach, still obviously controlling his laughter.

“She got herself into it,” said Dylan with a fatalistic shake of his head. “The woman's on her own.”

“That Pansy girl?” Kaitlin asked Zach, not ready to let him off the hook for that one.

“I was fifteen, and she was two years older.”

“Uh-huh?” Kaitlin waited for more details.

“She taught me how to kiss,” Zach admitted.

“And…?”

“And nothing. You jealous?”

Kaitlin frowned, sensing he was about to turn the tables. “Not me.”

“Right this way,” Dylan interrupted, pointing through an archway and ushering them from the foyer farther into house.

Kaitlin was happy to leave the conversation behind, and she was more than impressed by the house.

Only a few years old, the large and luxurious Gilby home was perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean and the distant coast of Connecticut. The west wall of the great room was two stories high and made completely of glass. Hardwood floors gleamed beneath open-beam ceilings, and a sweeping staircase curled toward a second-story overtop of the kitchen area where Lindsay had disappeared.

After Kaitlin had a chance to look around, they moved out onto a huge deck dotted with tables and comfortable furniture groupings. Large potted plants were placed around the perimeter, and a retractable roof was halfway shut, providing shade on half the deck and sunshine on the other.

“You must entertain a lot,” Kaitlin said to Dylan, taking in the wet bar and two huge gas barbecues.

He nodded in answer to her question. “There's a great big party room downstairs. Plenty of extra bedrooms. And do you see those green roofs below the ridge?”

Kaitlin moved to the rail, leaning out to gaze along the steep side of a mountain. “I see them.”

“Those are guest cottages. There's a service road that loops around the back. My mom loves to have guests here.”

Kaitlin glanced straight down to see a kidney-shaped swimming pool with a couple of hot tubs beside it on a terra-cotta patio. The swimming area was surrounded by an emerald lawn. And, beyond the Gilbys' place, farther toward what looked like a sandy beach, and in the opposite direction of the cottages, she spied a stone spire and a jagged roofline that stuck up above the trees.

She pointed. “What's that down there?”

“That's Zach's place,” Dylan replied.

Kaitlin glanced back at Zach in surprise. “You live in a castle?”

“It's made of stone,” he replied, walking closer to the rail to join her. “And it's drafty and cavernous. I guess you could call it a castle. You know, if you wanted to sound pompous and have people laugh at you.”

“It's a castle,” she cooed, delighted at the thought of exploring it. “When was it built?”

“It's been around for a few generations,” Zach offered without elaboration.

“Early 1700s,” said Dylan. “The Harpers believe in honoring their roots.”

Kaitlin's delight was replaced by an unexpected pang of jealousy deep in her chest. How many generations was that? Was there nothing not perfect about Zach's charmed life?

“I can't wait to see it,” she said in what came out as a small voice.

Zach glanced sharply at her expression.

“The Harpers restore and preserve,” Dylan explained. “The Gilbys prefer to bulldoze and start fresh.”

“Philistines,” Lindsay proclaimed as she breezed out onto the deck. In blue jeans and a green blouse, she somehow looked completely relaxed and at home.

Kaitlin, on the other hand, was now feeling awkward and jumpy. “How's the pie coming?” she asked, turning away from Zach's scrutiny.

Though she couldn't control her reflexive reactions, she had long since learned not to wallow in self-pity about her upbringing. It was what it was. She couldn't change it. She could only make the best of here and now. Well, maybe not exactly here and now. She only wanted to make it through the weekend.