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Pregnant By The Billionaire
Karen Booth
From playboy to papa!Kendall Ross's latest PR assignment is the perfect jump start for her career. But her client is hotel magnate Sawyer Locke—the no-holds-barred one-night stand she had six weeks ago. Sawyer knows the feisty redhead is the key to successfully launching his new hotel, but with his meddling father sabotaging his business plans, they have to keep their arrangement strictly professional. As in, no kisses. No fondling. And certainly no mind-blowing sex! Yet when their best-laid plans end with an unexpected pregnancy, the rebel billionaire must choose between his bachelor ways or losing Kendall and his baby for good!


From playboy to papa!
Kendall Ross’s latest PR assignment is the perfect jump start for her career. But her client is hotel magnate Sawyer Locke—the no-holds-barred one-night stand she had six weeks ago. Sawyer knows the feisty redhead is the key to successfully launching his new hotel, but with his meddling father sabotaging his business plans, they have to keep their arrangement strictly professional. As in, no kisses. No fondling. And certainly no mind-blowing sex! Yet when their best-laid plans end with an unexpected pregnancy, the rebel billionaire must choose between his bachelor ways or losing Kendall and his baby for good!
Pregnant by the Billionaire is part of The Locke Legacy.
“Do you think about our night together?” he asked.
Kendall waited to answer, not sure if it was better to lie and protect herself or give in to the truth. “I think you know the answer to that question.”
Sawyer sat next to her on the couch. He took her hand. “I had a similar problem, but I didn’t tell you. I think about everything. Asking you to dance. Having you in my arms on the dance floor. That whole night together. What that first kiss was like.”
He was leaning closer, giving in inch by inch, and she mirrored his every move. Their mutual resolve was evaporating before her eyes. “It was a great one.”
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb softly. Carefully. “One of the best.”
“The kiss goodbye was pretty amazing, too,” she said. “I tried to send you a message with that kiss.”
“And what message was that?” He moved his head closer and nudged at her hair with his nose before pressing his lips to her cheek.
Her eyelids fluttered. He was sending electricity straight through her. “The message was you’d better call me.”
“Let me send my own message.”
His lips fell on hers, strong and insistent.
* * *
Pregnant by the Billionaire is part of The Locke Legacy— This family’s glamorous Manhattan hotel is a five-star location for love.
Pregnant by the Billionaire
Karen Booth


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
KAREN BOOTH is a Midwestern girl transplanted in the South, raised on ’80s music, Judy Blume and the films of John Hughes. She writes sexy big-city love stories. When she takes a break from the art of romance, she’s teaching her kids about good music, honing her Southern cooking skills or sweet-talking her husband into whipping up a batch of cocktails. Find out more about Karen at www.karenbooth.net (http://www.karenbooth.net).
For my kids, I love you more than you’ll ever know.
Also, I’m sorry for the many times dinner has been late (or was pizza delivery) because I was writing.
The world needs love and romance, and every time you give me a free pass, you help to make that possible.
That’s yet another reason to love you.
Contents
Cover (#u0264e235-2093-5f47-8850-5d31f2da9ffb)
Back Cover Text (#ua6aa5a03-7a17-5602-98f4-c241dba3486f)
Introduction (#uf80fb983-4838-58e0-a3f6-ff56dfcfe076)
Title Page (#uc1c01cba-0bcc-5005-a293-77acce6285b1)
About the Author (#u026aaa70-fd38-5546-ba0d-3ce7019b8138)
Dedication (#ua11d8e2c-959b-563b-a2f6-470250e57d07)
One (#u4b383882-5715-591d-8266-2f364a506924)
Two (#uf37b8ef5-3a96-5918-82ed-708e26f92a9a)
Three (#ud91d812d-5a83-5365-a533-392d3ff75610)
Four (#u7943e19e-2ae8-5a75-a29e-b284265c7661)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
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Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
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Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
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Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#u0bb942e3-940e-580c-b68d-00476ee6b7b0)
Sawyer Locke marched into his Manhattan office, phone pinned between his ear and shoulder. “That’s your answer? You don’t know how the story ended up in the paper?” He slammed the newspaper down on his desk. Grand Legacy Hotel Rebuild in Shambles. “You’re my PR company. Am I not paying you to be on top of this? The reporter didn’t come to you for a comment? Because she sure didn’t call me.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Locke. It came out of nowhere.”
Nowhere. Sawyer suspected the likely origin of this story, and it didn’t sit well with him at all. It never did. He left his laptop bag on his desk and wandered to his office window atop the four-story building he’d renovated when he started his real estate development firm five years ago. No high-rise for him. Too much like his dad. Down below, the trees lining the street were turning a rich shade of red impossible to ignore. He’d been staring at the trees off and on for three days now—a near match for the hair of a woman he couldn’t seem to forget. He’d had his share of one-night stands, but Kendall...well, he was having a terrible time getting her out of his head.
The changing leaves also meant December would be here soon, and that meant there could be no more disruptions on the hotel renovations. A gala New Year’s Eve grand reopening cannot be late or rescheduled. “I need to know what you’re going to do about this. We have to fight back.”
“In your case, I think it’s best if we ignore it and let the story take its natural course.”
For nearly a year, Sawyer had kept his frustration under wraps. There was too much money on the line, too many people watching and waiting for him to fail. Right now neither being calm nor collected was on the table. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to ignore negative publicity.” Inaction was an unfamiliar notion for Sawyer. He never sat on his hands.
“Perhaps we need to make a change, Mr. Locke. Maybe we’re no longer the right firm for you.”
Dammit. Sawyer knew that tone, that tentative tremble in a person’s voice. That was the sound of someone who’d been threatened or bought off by his father. This had happened before. It would likely happen again. “Perfect, then. You’re fired.”
“Mr. Locke?”
“Our retainer takes us through March. Bill me the balance and we’ll be done.” He hung up, stopping short of telling his now former public relations director to say hi to his dad. “Lily,” Sawyer called as his brother’s admin walked by his office. “Is Noah in yet?”
She leaned into view, a generous grin on her face. She was always so upbeat. “He’s unpacking his things. Got stuck in traffic.”
“Has he seen the paper?”
“Not sure.”
“I need to speak to him. Now.” He cringed at the demand in his voice. It wasn’t Lily’s fault everything was falling apart. “Please.”
“Of course, Mr. Locke.”
He stalked back to his desk and scanned the newspaper again.
Sources say Sawyer and Noah Locke are millions over budget and chronically behind schedule.
“Sources? Oh, I’ll tell you the damn source,” he mumbled. “And none of this is true.”
Much of the Locke family is embarrassed by the hotel. Sawyer and Noah Locke are reportedly pursuing the futile project in direct opposition to their father’s wishes.
An exasperated laugh rushed past his lips. Everything Sawyer did was in direct opposition to his father. He couldn’t help it. They were as different as two people could be, and the more distance Sawyer tried to keep, the more his father interfered, precisely why James Locke was the most likely culprit when it came to this bad publicity. Their father had fought Sawyer and Noah every step of the way on the Grand Legacy project. Their dad wanted the hotel razed. It had been a black mark on the family name for too long. Enough was enough, he’d said. Sawyer disagreed, strongly. Luckily, the original hotel in his family’s hotel empire was his. And it was nobody’s call but his.
After countless arguments, the worst of which had come nearly two years ago on Christmas Day when Sawyer had made it crystal clear he was not going to back down, their father had gone silent on the subject of the Grand Legacy. He refused to speak with his son about it, and Sawyer wasn’t eager to resume the conversation. Still, his father’s quiet was never good. Sawyer couldn’t prove it, but he was certain his dad was behind every problem they’d encountered during renovation: subcontractors not showing up, custom orders disappearing from the site. The power and water going off—more than once. It was never-ending, tiresome and costing a ridiculous amount of money.
Noah strolled into Sawyer’s office, coffee cup in hand. “You rang?” Even in an expensive suit, his younger brother always looked the part of affable All-American guy, and today was no different. Tall and trim, big grin, annoyingly perfect hair. Sawyer had recently discovered a few stray grays mixed in with the dark brown that matched Noah’s. At thirty-two, he was too young for that, but the struggle with his dad and the hotel was making him old before his time.
Sawyer pushed the paper across his desk. “I hate to ruin your good mood, but you have to read this.”
Noah set down his cup and planted his hands on the desk, surveying the damage. “Are you kidding me?” He flipped to the back page. “These pictures are terrible. They’re completely misleading. Of course the lobby is a disaster. It’s the last phase of the project.”
“That’s what Dad does, isn’t it? He’s all about misleading. You know he’s behind this.” If only their dad wasn’t several years into his marriage to his fourth wife. He tended to get bored by now, and when he didn’t have “love” to distract him, he occupied himself by meddling. Sawyer would never wish for his dad to get divorced and find wife number five, but the thought had crossed his mind. “We can’t let people think the hotel is a hot mess. The problem is we no longer have a PR firm. I just fired them. I’m pretty sure Dad got to them.”
Noah took a seat and ran his hand through his hair. “We need publicity, Sawyer. There’s no interest surrounding the reopening without it. Who’s going to coordinate the media for the opening gala? Are you going to do it? I’m not going to do it.”
“I hear you.”
“We need to get on it today. If Dad is behind this, he’s only going to escalate the closer we get to reopening.”
Sawyer sat back in his chair, nodding. Their father wasn’t going to let this go. He would never get over the fact that Sawyer’s great-grandfather had willed the hotel to him, bypassing their dad and the family’s holding company. James Locke’s anger over Sawyer’s control of the building went beyond what was reasonable. So much so that Sawyer was sure there was something else behind it. He’d spent much of the last fifteen years trying to figure it out, but he’d never come close to unearthing the secret. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to let him stop us.”
“I’d pick a PR firm myself, but you’d never let me make the call anyway.”
Sawyer shrugged. “It is my hotel.”
“Believe me. I know. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have this problem in the first place.” Noah rose from his seat and knocked his knuckle on Sawyer’s desk. “Do you have somebody in mind?”
Only one firm was a real possibility. “Sloan PR. They were a very close second when we started this. I made the wrong call, apparently.”
“I trust you.”
Noah left and Sawyer wasted no time opening his laptop and pulling up the Sloan PR website. It’d been over a year since he’d met with them and he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of the company president. Too many bits of information rolling around in his head these days...most of it not good. The site loaded and he clicked on “Our Team.”
At the top of the page was a group photo of five or six people. He didn’t see faces. He was too distracted by a shock of red hair. He leaned closer to the screen, squinting. Had the leaves on the trees led him to a mirage? Is that...Kendall? It looked like her. It really did. He scrolled down to individual photos of the team members.
There she was. Kendall Ross, Senior Director, Public Relations.
He sat back in his chair and let his eyes rest on her full ruby lips, creamy skin with hints of peach and gold, the bright blue eyes that had given him a verifiable moment of weakness on the dance floor at his friend Matt’s wedding six weeks ago. She was just as stunning as he remembered. He hadn’t let the memory of her improve as the nights since then had passed and he’d been craving a woman’s company. Now he was really kicking himself for not calling her after he’d returned to the city. Perhaps he should’ve broken his rule about getting involved. Just once.
There was one unavoidable detail about the weeks since the wedding, and it was one with which he was unfamiliar. She hadn’t called him either. Had she not enjoyed herself? He couldn’t fathom how that could be possible. They’d spent hours pleasing each other in practically every way a man and woman could. She’d said she’d had a wonderful time. She’d even kissed him goodbye in the morning—a slow, soft and passionate kiss that lingered on his lips for hours afterward. If he closed his eyes, it was still there in his mind.
He took in a deep breath and picked up his phone to call Kendall’s boss. He had to forge ahead with the task at hand. Hopefully his past with Kendall Ross wasn’t about to make his visit to Sloan PR unbearably awkward.
* * *
Kendall Ross’s shoulders drooped when she scanned that morning’s headlines. “Of course Sawyer Locke is in the paper. The man is everywhere.” She put her phone on her dresser and scrolled, reading while she zipped up her dress. One more flick of the screen and she saw the picture—Sawyer crossing the street in front of his Grand Legacy Hotel, sunglasses on, in an expensive suit, looking like he was the King of Manhattan. How could one man wield that much sexiness? It wasn’t fair.
She plopped down on the bed and worked her feet into her pumps, which had been cast aside last night after she dragged her exhausted self home from work. She shouldn’t let a photograph get to her, just like she should’ve ignored every random reminder of Sawyer that had cropped up over the last six weeks. There was the guy who rode the same morning train she did, a man she’d hardly noticed before Sawyer. Now she knew they wore the same cologne. There was the locksmith who’d worked in her office building a few weeks ago—his van parked out front. Locke and Key. Clever. Then there was the construction project that had just started down the street from her apartment. The vinyl banner for Locke and Locke went up right after the chain link fence. She walked past it every day on her way to the subway. And back.
She caught the time on her alarm clock. Five more minutes and she’d miss her train. She had to stop thinking about Sawyer, but keeping her mind off her huge mistake was not going well.
Thanks to the romantic comedy she’d watched on TV last night, she might have a fix.
She opened her closet and pulled a dusty shoe box down from the top shelf, plunked it on top of her dresser and lifted the lid. Under a stack of old photos of her mom, she found the black velvet box. Most women might keep their mother’s jewelry in a place of higher importance, but Kendall had very mixed feelings about this ring.
She opened the clamshell box and there it sat—a square setting of platinum with large diamonds surrounding a blue amethyst. Kendall would never forget her mother’s initial excitement at receiving it from one of her suitors, and her disappointment when she realized the lavish ring was only a gift, an expensive means of keeping her content. It had not come with a proposal.
When Kendall was a little girl, every new boyfriend her mother brought home was a new chance at having a dad. By the time she was a teenager, she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Her mom had a real talent for finding men with money and power, men who wined and dined her, took her to bed, never bothering to marry her. It meant that the rent was always on time and the fridge was stocked, but they otherwise treated her mother as a pretty bauble.
Since Kendall had devoted so much energy over the years to not repeating her mom’s mistakes, it made the one-night stand with Sawyer Locke that much harder to forget. Kendall made a point of being strong when it came to men. She could dismiss them with aplomb when needed.
Sawyer, however, had been the one guy for whom she had no defense. She’d let him sweet-talk her, even when she was sure it was all a line. He’d told her she was beautiful and sexy and she’d lapped up every word like she’d never had a decent compliment. And then there was their ultimate destination that night—bed. A one-night stand was not her style, but it had felt like an inevitability only a few moments into their first dance. He was commanding and powerful and even though Kendall had always sworn she’d never fall for that, she’d practically jumped at the chance with Sawyer.
The champagne hadn’t helped. The first glass gave way to flirtatious glances. The second brought an answer of “yes” when he asked her to dance. It had also made her pretend that she didn’t know he was from a wealthy and powerful New York family. In fact, she’d ignored all the damning knowledge she had of him—the playboy reputation, the money—even though men like Sawyer Locke had broken her mother’s heart more times than she could remember.
In the weeks since the wedding, Sawyer had proven her every assumption about him to be true. He might have asked for her number and said he would call her, but he hadn’t. Oldest trick in the book, a real blow to the ego, and probably for the best. Sawyer had been a mistake.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the clock. No time to waste, she slipped the ring onto her left hand. “Men of Manhattan, back off. I’m engaged.”
Kendall made record time down her block and around the corner to the subway stop. Thundering down the stairs, she swiped her pass and clunked through the turnstile, narrowly making her train. She sat next to a gray-haired woman who was clutching her purse to her chest. Shielding her hand with her laptop bag, Kendall eyed the ring and reminded herself what she wanted it to symbolize. She didn’t need anyone. She made her own future, no man required.
The heroine in the movie with the ring had been just like her—single, making stupid mistakes with men. Creating the illusion of being a taken woman served two purposes—it would be an ever-present reminder to stay on track with her career, the one thing she could truly count on, and it kept men away. That last part was a very good thing for Kendall. Men only ever approached her because she was, as her grandmother often pointed out, buxom and curvy. Sawyer Locke had undoubtedly only approached her for those reasons. It wasn’t like he’d had asked her to dance because she looked smart or like she might have a sparkling personality.
She probably never should’ve gone to her old college roommate’s wedding in the first place. That entire dream weekend in Maine was a magnifying glass on Kendall’s singleness. It normally didn’t bother her, but it was different being crammed into a banquet hall with her old friends, all married or in a serious relationship. Many had kids. One was already on her second husband. They had all moved forward with their lives. Kendall had, too, in her own way—building the one thing her mom had never managed to put together—a career. She needed to get back on track. Worrying about men was going to keep her running in circles.
The train arrived at her station, and she hurried along to the office of Sloan Public Relations. She’d been with the firm for nearly two years now, and was making strides. Her boss, Jillian Sloan, had said as much.
When she walked through the door, the normally bustling office was eerily quiet. Her coworkers spoke in hushed tones, ducking behind cubicles. Maureen, the receptionist, looked as though she’d seen a ghost.
“Did somebody die?” It wasn’t an outlandish question. Several people had looked a little green around the gills after Jillian had lunch brought in yesterday. Never trust potato salad, or any questionable picnic foods—that was one of the many rules Kendall lived by.
“Wanda was fired.”
Kendall clasped her hand over her mouth. Wanda was supposed to get the VP job. “Fired? Why? When did this happen?”
“About ten minutes ago.” Maureen leaned closer and dropped her chin while casting her eyes up at Kendall. “Supposedly she had something going on with one of her clients. You know how Jillian is.”
Oh, Kendall knew. Jillian was all about appearances. Sloan PR was a tight ship.
“If you’d been on time, you would’ve been here for it,” Maureen continued. “Wanda’s packing up her office right now. Oh, and Jillian wants to see you right away.”
“Right away?” Kendall grimaced. Had she done something?
“Yes. Go.”
Racing down the hall from reception, dodging a few of her coworkers, she dropped her things onto her desk. She took a deep breath, straightened her skirt and headed back to the executive wing of their floor—two corner offices with a large, central waiting area and private conference room between. Jillian’s was the larger of the two offices, but they were both impressive. The second, the one that everyone had thought would become Wanda’s, was empty. The door had been left open for the three months since the last VP left to start her own company, a constant reminder to everyone that the job was up for grabs, if you dazzled Jillian. Wanda’s office was closed, but a long string of profanity came from behind the door. Apparently someone was not happy about having been fired, but anyone could’ve told her Jillian wouldn’t put up with anything fishy with a client.
Jillian’s assistant hung up her phone. “Oh good, Ms. Ross. Ms. Sloan is waiting for you. Go right in.”
Kendall filed into her boss’s office and stood waiting while Jillian tapped away at her computer. “Morning, Kendall. I’m sure you’ve heard. I had to let Wanda go.” She turned to Kendall, her glossy chestnut-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, probably so everyone could admire the chunky diamond studs in her ears. Jillian had worked her way up in the world and she wasn’t afraid to remind people of it. “It was an unfortunate situation, but it’s time for us all to move on.”
Kendall wasn’t about to ask for details. She could dig the truth out of one of her coworkers later. “Yes, of course.”
“This could be a big opportunity for you. There’s no question you’re a rising star. You work hard, you have innovative ideas and you’re keenly focused on our clients. You could stand to be on time more often, but we won’t get into that right now.”
Kendall cleared her throat and shifted her weight. “Thank you.”
“Now that we’ve lost Wanda, you’re next in line for the VP position.”
Kendall stopped herself from blurting I am? “That’s great news. Thank you.”
“Don’t get too excited. I’m also considering Wes. He’s right behind you in the pecking order.”
The bottom of Kendall’s stomach dropped out. Ugh. Wes was her most annoying colleague, as enjoyable as a bowl of soggy cereal. He’d raised sucking up to the boss to an art form, and took so much joy in interfering with Kendall at work that she half expected him to show up one day with a villain’s handlebar mustache just so he could twirl the ends. “I see.”
“Show me that you’re right for this job. You can start right now. I have a very important potential client waiting in the conference room. I can’t tell you what the project is, though. I had to sign a nondisclosure agreement just to take the meeting. We can’t say a thing, even if he doesn’t hire us.”
Nondisclosure? Must be a big fish. “Sure. Great. What can I do?”
“Win the account. I’ll be there, but you’ll do the heavy lifting. He doesn’t want a dog and pony show. He wants to speak directly to whomever would be handling his project. He wants ideas. He wants brilliance.”
“What about Wes?”
“You get our only shot.” Jillian stepped out from behind her desk, clasping Kendall’s shoulder. “You’ve earned it. Now don’t let me down.”
Kendall tried to swallow, but her throat wouldn’t cooperate. Nothing like walking into a pressure cooker first thing Monday morning. “I’m ready.” Just to sell it, she gave Jillian two thumbs-up.
Jillian pointed to her left hand. “Are you engaged? I don’t remember that ring.”
Kendall hadn’t fully formulated her story, but she sure as heck wasn’t going to tell her boss she’d gotten the idea from a TV movie. “It was my mother’s. I found it and thought I’d wear it.”
“On your left ring finger?”
“Do you ever get hit on by men who you’d prefer just left you alone?”
“All the time,” Jillian answered. “It can get really annoying.”
“Precisely. If a man takes the time to really know me, I can tell him it’s just a fashion choice. Until then, it’s a great way to keep them at bay and focus on my job.”
A sly smile crossed Jillian’s face. “I like the way you think.”
Kendall followed Jillian into the conference room, her mind a jumble...her aspirations, her career goals, being on her A game, trying to win an account she knew nothing about. She fiddled with the ring on her finger. You’ve got this.
The minute she crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her, Kendall’s stomach, already unsettled like she’d chugged a bubbly soda, did a verifiable somersault. There at the end of the conference table, in a charcoal-gray suit that made her want to bite her knuckle, sat quite possibly the most handsome man she’d ever seen—precisely the man she’d been hoping to forget by putting on her mother’s ring that morning. Sawyer Locke.
Two (#u0bb942e3-940e-580c-b68d-00476ee6b7b0)
Kendall always prepared well for meetings, but knowledge of how amazing a potential client looked without clothes was not the normal intel. Did Sawyer know she worked there? Was he up to something? And then there was the question she wished hadn’t popped into her head at all, one she’d never ask, mostly because she wouldn’t like it if he turned the tables and asked her the same thing: Why hadn’t he called?
“Mr. Locke.” Jillian shook hands with Sawyer. “This is Kendall Ross. She’s our top PR person. If you hire us, she’ll be handling the details.”
Eyes trained on her, Sawyer reached for Kendall, his warm brown eyes transporting her to the not-so-distant past—a time and place where she knew every inch of his glorious body and he knew the same of her. She should’ve had her mind trained on wooing Sawyer as a client, not thinking about what a fantastic kisser he was. This was such unfamiliar territory, she hardly knew what to do. She only knew that she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by things like his shoulders in that suit or the neatly trimmed five-o’clock shadow along his angular jaw.
“Actually, Ms. Ross and I already know each other.” Sawyer gripped her hand, all business, but it felt like he was trying to suck her in.
Kendall nearly clutched her chest with her free hand to keep her heart from failing. The handshake was far too intimate. Too much heat transferred from his big, firm, naked hand to hers. Stupid rules of polite society—touching him was putting her off her game.
“Oh, uh, yes. We do know each other.” She tittered, something she would never do, especially not in a meeting. Get it together. “We met at a mutual friend’s wedding.” Kendall scanned Sawyer’s face if only to figure out what in the hell he was hoping to accomplish by admitting they knew each other. Silently confronting him in this manner only created more problems, as he unflinchingly returned her gaze, eyes singularly trained on her, making her heart beat like a fish trying to flop out of a bucket to save its own life.
“We had a wonderful time. Ms. Ross showed me some of her moves.” He bounced his dark brows. The corners of his mouth twitched arrogantly. “On the dance floor.”
So he was just messing with her. Jerk. First he didn’t call her now he was dropping innuendo in a business meeting? Easy enough for him—the handsome billionaire who didn’t have his career on the line. Of course he hadn’t called her after the wedding. Guys like Sawyer Locke were too cavalier with the hearts and minds of others, especially women. He probably had them lined up around the block.
“Please, Mr. Locke. Have a seat. What can we do for you today?” Kendall was desperate to steer the conversation to the professional. She sat across the table from him, turning to a fresh page on her legal pad. When she looked up, his sights were locked on her left hand. The ring. Good. Let him look. Kendall glanced at the setting of shimmering stones. “Oh, goodness.” She straightened it.
Jillian remained standing. “I won’t stay long, Mr. Locke. I know you want to talk strategy and in that instance, Kendall is your woman.”
“Is that so?” Sawyer leaned back in his chair and slowly thrummed his fingers on the table.
Your woman. Why was she having such a hard time swallowing today? And had someone cranked the thermostat? “I’m good at my job, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Sawyer flashed his killer smile—a self-assured grin to remind her that he was not only a man who knew what he wanted, he had absolutely no problem getting it. Probably the reason he hadn’t called her after the wedding. She was just another in an endless string of women. “Perfect. I need to make a change with my PR. The last firm we worked with had a hard time following my lead. I’m too busy to spend my day butting heads.”
Kendall shifted in her seat. Of course. Men like Sawyer didn’t like it when anyone disagreed with them. “Tell me about the Grand Legacy. After the story in the Times, I can only assume that’s what we’re talking about.”
“So you saw it.”
“I did. I’d call it unflattering, at best.” Even if that picture of you was hot as hell.
“Tell me how you really feel.” His voice was terse, as if he had little patience for her opinion.
Kendall shrugged. “I’m telling you what I saw.”
Sawyer’s jaw tensed, then he cleared his throat. “Fine. You’re not wrong. It was horrible. My brother and I are extremely unhappy that those photos were leaked. We’ve done everything we can to keep the details of our project top secret. We can’t have information of any kind getting out, especially in the newspapers. It’s a disaster.”
“You might be creating your own problem. Keeping secrets almost never works.”
“It works if you do it well. You have to understand, we’re not just renovating the hotel, we’re rebuilding the mystique. We have to keep the details under wraps until the grand reopening, when all will be revealed. We’re going for drama. A big bang.”
She shook her head and tapped her pen on the notepad. “And as a member of the general public, I know nothing. You can’t assume people know the history. I don’t know much about the Grand Legacy and I grew up in New Jersey. It’s been closed for more than a decade. All of that makes me disinterested. Keeping things a secret is the wrong tack to take.”
“Kendall has an excellent point, Mr. Locke,” Jillian said. Any other boss might’ve taken issue with Kendall pointing out the mistakes a potential client had made, but not Jillian. She believed in transparency, at all times, and at all costs.
“What are you suggesting?” Sawyer’s annoyance was clear. “We let people see what we’re doing?”
“Let me ask you this. Would you rather have someone like me open a paper to see grainy, camera-phone photos of your hotel, or would it have been better if this morning’s paper had featured professional photographs, along with a story chock-full of interesting details?”
Sawyer pressed his lips together. His forehead crinkled. Kendall took great pleasure in showing him exactly how wrong he was. “I see your point.”
“Publicity and building anticipation is about the careful dissemination of information, not locking it up and throwing away the key. You have to go for the slow burn, Mr. Locke. You tease. You give the people a taste of what they want. Soon you have them clamoring for more.” Finally, she was hitting her stride. Even if she and Sawyer were not in agreement, at least he would know up front that she was not a “yes” woman. Not even for him.
Jillian’s assistant ducked her head into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms. Sloan, but your ten o’clock is here early.”
“Coming,” she answered, reaching to shake hands with Sawyer as he stood. “I’m sorry I can’t stay for the whole meeting, but I have no doubt that Kendall is on the right track. You’re in excellent hands with her.”
“Thank you. I’m sure Ms. Ross knows exactly what to do with me.”
Kendall refrained from grumbling, but she sure felt like complaining. Much to her detriment, the man had a real talent for innuendo. He returned to his seat when Jillian left. He didn’t say a word. He just looked at her. As to what he might be thinking, she had no earthly idea. She only knew that if she and Sawyer were going to work together, she needed to keep them on course. A very narrow, nonsexual and never flirtatious course, especially now that they were alone.
“So? The Grand Legacy. Do we have the job?” she asked.
He nodded, not taking his eyes off her. “I have some questions.”
“Of course. Whatever you need to know.” She exhaled. She could do this. Her brief history with Sawyer didn’t have to be an insurmountable issue. It didn’t have to be an issue at all. They were both professional people and there was a job to be done.
“I want to hear more about the slow burn.” He trailed his index finger on the conference table in a painfully slow circle. “It sounds promising.”
“Oh. Uh. Sure. Of course.”
“Then I’d like to know when exactly you got engaged.”
Kendall froze. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she scrambled for an answer. It was one thing to come right out with it with her boss, but she had nothing for Sawyer. How was she supposed to have anticipated that he’d waltz back into her life that morning and make Operation Engagement Ring infinitely more complicated?
* * *
Sawyer didn’t like distractions in business meetings, nor did he like surprises. But this was no ordinary meeting, and Kendall Ross was much more than a beguiling bombshell. She was a force to be reckoned with.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get back to the PR plan. Isn’t that the most pressing matter?” She straightened in her seat, composed and determined.
Even with vast amounts of money on the line, Sawyer’s mind couldn’t keep from straying to pressing of another kind—namely the moment at the wedding when she pressed against him, his hand settled in the curve of her back and everything around them faded away. It wasn’t like him at all to be so unfocused in a meeting. But he’d never been tested like this either.
It was one thing to run into a former conquest months or years later and see her with a date or a serious boyfriend. That he could handle. That was the cost of being the guy who not only doesn’t do serious, but doesn’t get within ten miles of it. But engaged? Less than two months later? Who was this guy? Where did she find him? And how had Sawyer managed to sleep with the one woman who could move on even more easily than he did? Not that he’d actually moved on from Kendall. She’d kept wandering into his thoughts, while he kept waiting for the day when she’d simply walk out.
“I suppose,” he said.
“As I said, it’s more effective to release information and images on a specific, carefully planned timetable, all of it leading up to your grand reopening. The only way to control the story is to promise the press you’ll give them everything they want, but on your terms.”
“The slow burn.” He might come to hate that phrase. It was far too sexy, especially coming from Kendall’s tempting lips.
“Yes. You have to realize, most people are terrible at visualizing things. And it might seem counterintuitive, but letting them see glimpses of the hotel now will create demand for more and more until people can’t stand it and they have to see it for themselves.”
She was so convincing right now, she could’ve sold him nearly anything, even the contents of his own wallet. “I have a feeling I should’ve hired you from the beginning.”
“Does that mean you’re hiring me now?”
He laughed quietly. She not only knew how to bury his ideas while selling her own, she knew how to close the deal. He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t think I have a choice. You’ve made a compelling case. Despite the fact that you don’t seem inclined to agree with me, I appreciate your thought process. Let’s do it your way.” He cleared his throat. Idiot. “The PR. Your way.”
“Well, good. That’s great. Thank you. I’m happy to hear that.” She smiled, bringing a beautiful blush to her cheeks. It made him want to only do things that made her smile. But then she pushed her hair behind her ear with her left hand and he was reminded that he had zero business thinking of Kendall that way.
“So. Engaged, huh? That must’ve happened recently. I mean, I hope it’s a recent thing.” Sawyer gave free passes on most personal choices—he simply wasn’t judgmental. But if she had been unfaithful to someone, with him, that crossed the line. He hoped to hell she could be trusted.
“I’m not discussing my ring, Mr. Locke. We’re having a business meeting. Surely you can appreciate that.”
“First off, please don’t call me Mr. Locke. Considering our history, I think we’re past the point of calling each other by our last names.”
“Okay, then, Sawyer.” Damn, he loved hearing her say his first name. “I’m not discussing the ring. Frankly, it’s none of your business.”
“Ah, but it is my business. I need to know I can trust the person I’ll be working with for the next three months.” He hated the thought that he might come to regret his night with Kendall. He wanted to think it had been a good decision to learn how impossibly soft her skin was, or what it felt like to have her gasp in his ear when he’d brought her to her peak.
“Are you implying that I somehow deceived you?”
“We made love six weeks ago. I’d feel a lot better knowing your fiancé wasn’t in the picture then. I don’t pursue taken women. The thought of it makes me cringe.” That much was true. He’d lived through infidelity. He’d endured that violation of trust, and he didn’t take it lightly.
She pursed her lips. “Fine, then. If you must know, the ring is a very recent development in my life.”
“How recent?”
“Very. But for our purposes, it’s merely a reminder that we are nothing but business associates.”
He’d leave it alone for now. She was putting up walls that said to back off. That was enough. “Got it.”
“So, what’s your timetable?”
“The reopening gala is New Year’s Eve.”
“It’s October 7. We don’t have much time.”
“Indeed.” Brought back to earth, Sawyer again felt the weight of the responsibilities waiting for him—dealing with the contractors, trying to see if there was a way to get through to his dad, and hoping that, somehow, Kendall Ross would ultimately be his savior and help him pull off the impossible—a flawless reopening of the Grand Legacy Hotel.
“Can you give me a tour of the hotel? I need to see it as soon as possible.”
Sawyer had a ridiculous schedule tomorrow, but getting Kendall up to speed was of paramount importance. Plus, the thought of time with her sounded like a vast improvement over what would otherwise simply be more things he didn’t feel like dealing with.
“Can you meet me there at ten tomorrow morning? I’ll send a car to your office.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking a cab or the subway.”
“I have no doubt about that.”
She shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.”
“Fine. I’m not about to argue with you.”
She stood and smiled, nearly knocking the breath from his chest. It would take some time to get used to working in such close proximity to Kendall. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” He shook her hand, which felt odd. Considering what had happened between them six weeks ago, his departure warranted something closer to an embrace and a kiss on the cheek.
He walked outside, relieved that the PR was now sewn up, but conflicted about everything else. He couldn’t stop wondering about her fiancé—who he was, and more specifically, how he’d swept her off her feet in such a short amount of time. Judging by the rock on her hand, the guy had money. Did Sawyer know him? He really hoped not. What did he look like? What did he do? And why was this bothering him so much?
He climbed into the back of his waiting town car and pulled out his phone to call his brother. He needed to get his mind on work and off Kendall, which would be a near impossibility now that she was on the project. But the reality was she’d never called him after their night together, and judging by the cool composure she’d radiated during their meeting, she’d done it with good reason.
Starting with the ring.
Three (#u0bb942e3-940e-580c-b68d-00476ee6b7b0)
Kendall stepped out of a cab in front of the Grand Legacy Hotel in midtown Manhattan a few blocks from the touristy chaos of Times Square. Fall leaves fluttered down the city street, a mix of drizzle and cool wind whipped at her cheeks. From somewhere beyond the hotel entrance came a buzz of saws and clamoring of metal against metal.
She walked into the shadow of the looming building she’d seen a few times before in passing. Right now, it didn’t look like much—obscured by a maze of metal scaffolding, a tall chain-link fence and a temporary facade of gray, painted plywood. Four intimidating muscle-bound men dressed in black, wearing wraparound sunglasses and earpieces stood sentry at the entrance, sending a clear message: no trespassing. Kendall couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to mess with those guys. Whoever had taken the pictures that appeared in the Times had risked life and limb to do so. After researching the Locke family and the hotel last night, she had to wonder if Sawyer’s dad was behind that story. From where Kendall sat, the passing of the hotel to Sawyer couldn’t have gone over well.
“Good morning,” Kendall said to the least menacing of the security guys. “I’m here for Sawyer Locke. He’s expecting me.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a security camera panning in her direction. Sawyer was probably sitting inside behind a massive desk, a wall of TV monitors allowing him to survey his kingdom.
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Locke is waiting for you inside. I’ll walk you in.” The man opened a ramshackle, temporary door and Kendall followed him into an area stacked high with building materials. “You’re going to need this.” He reached into a bin and pulled out a yellow construction helmet, handing it to her.
“Is this really necessary?” I’m having a spectacular hair day.
“Mr. Locke’s orders.”
“But you aren’t wearing one.”
“Most of us aren’t, but Mr. Locke insisted you do.” He opened one side of a glass double door cloaked in dirty construction paper. The hotel’s revolving door was closed off with caution tape.
Kendall grumbled under her breath, putting the helmet on her head. Yellow was so not the right color for a redhead who avoided the sun at all costs. Was this Sawyer’s way of getting in a dig after she’d refused to fess up about the ring? He had to know how stupid she would feel.
They walked into what she could only assume was the lobby. The floors were blanketed in a patchwork of heavy paper. Sawdust was everywhere. Her pumps were going to be filthy by the time she left. Workers milled about, and the noises that had seemed loud outside were practically deafening. Judging by everything she was seeing, the newspaper story had been correct—this project was nowhere close to completion.
“Where do I find Mr. Locke?” she called out above the noise.
“Over there,” the man yelled, but then he pointed to one of the workers.
“No. I need Mr. Locke.” Kendall screamed in as ladylike a fashion as possible, while scanning the room for the hunky billionaire in a killer suit.
“He’s right there,” he replied, annoyed.
All Kendall could see was a man in jeans, a blue flannel shirt and brown work boots crouched down in front of the elevator. The guy had a nice rear view, and he certainly had the right hair. She took a step closer and he turned, a slight but familiar smile crossing his lips. I’ll be damned.
Sawyer straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans. Kendall was going to have to be on her A game today. Otherwise, she might die from a lethal dose of shock and handsomeness. He approached her, the sight of his shirtsleeves rolled up over his firm forearms making her heart flutter. She couldn’t afford to botch the most important job of her professional life, so she’d just have to learn to look at him as if he was a normal person and hope that over time, she’d build up immunity to his face and presence. Good luck with that.
“Hey there,” he said above the noise, raking his hands through his thick hair and knocking dust from it. “I should’ve told you to dress for a construction site.” He eyed her while she fought the part of her that wanted him to say something nice. “Not that you don’t look great. You do.”
Heat trickled through her veins. What was it about him that made his kind words so much more potent than any other man’s?
“Love the helmet,” he continued.
“I see you aren’t wearing one.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“How do you know I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“This is your first visit, and I have to keep you safe.”
She wasn’t sure she was buying it, but she had work to do. And her hair was going to be a wreck when she took the dumb thing off. “Fine. Just show me the hotel.”
“There’s not much to see down here. We’ll just get in the way.” He stepped aside as a worker carried a ladder past them. “I’ll show you the grand ballroom.”
He started past the elevator doors. Kendall hurried to catch up, her eyes stubbornly darting to him—that long and lean frame that looked good in, well, everything she’d ever seen him wear. And especially good wearing nothing. Sawyer in jeans was not what she’d prepared for today. Judging by his wealth and privilege, he did not strike her as a man who would get his hands dirty. It was more than a little bit sexy.
They turned down a wide hall and the construction noise faded.
“Busy morning?” she asked.
“I was going over the restoration of the metal overlays on the elevator doors. A lot of the original art deco features were lost over the years.”
“I researched the hotel last night. Everything in the older photos was so grand and luxurious.”
“It was once considered one of the most beautiful buildings in the city. I’d like to have it be seen that way again.”
It was indeed gorgeous in the pictures, but Kendall found the history she’d dug up more interesting than the architecture—it read like a tabloid magazine, salacious tales of events that she’d thought only happened in movies. The Grand Legacy had seen mobsters roll up in Bentleys with beautiful women in mink stoles, high-stakes poker games between politicians and Hollywood elite, and New Year’s Eve parties that made Times Square look like a church social.
Sawyer led them into to a large open room like a reception area, with a chandelier wrapped in plastic and five sets of double doors. Sawyer fished a large ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked one set. “I’m glad you got up to speed. Shows me you’re serious about the project.”
“Isn’t that the appeal? The secrets of the Grand Legacy Hotel?” She followed him into the dark room.
He grinned and nodded, then flipped on the lights. “It is.”
Kendall’s eyes were immediately drawn upward, to the barrel ceiling. High above them, a procession of intricate geometric patterns in white and blue glass, trimmed with gilded metal, ran the length of the room. A soft light glowed through the panes. “It looks just like it did in the pictures. It’s lit from the other side, isn’t it?”
“It’s meant to look like moonlight is shining through, but in reality, the fourth-floor rooms are above it. It took months to clean and repair. Entire sections had fallen during the fifteen years the hotel was closed.”
“Right after you inherited it.”
Surprise flickered across his face. “You did do your homework. I was seventeen. I wasn’t in a position to run a hotel. But I sure wasn’t going to let my dad get his hands on it either.”
“I was curious about that. He really thought the building should be knocked down?”
Sawyer gazed up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “He still thinks that. Can you imagine all of this, gone forever?”
Kendall admired his profile, and the way he got lost in the details. This meant a lot to him. She could hear it in his voice. “It’s going to look incredible in a magazine or newspaper. We’ll get a photographer in here right away.”
“If you think this looks good, let me take you up to the main bar.” He locked the ballroom and they traversed the reception area to a metal door. “Ladies first.”
Kendall stepped into the dimly lit stairwell. “The fire stairs?”
“Only way to get there right now. They’re working on the wrought-iron railings of the grand staircase.”
She began to climb the concrete steps. “How far up?”
“Third floor.”
“Have you been this hands-on through the entire project? Or is it just because you’re behind schedule?” Sawyer was directly behind her. Was he doing what she’d been doing earlier and ogling her backside? He shouldn’t be, but part of her wanted to think he was.
“I’m here all the time. There are so many tiny details and they all have to be exactly right. I spent enough time here as a kid to remember most of it. Everything else I research in my great-grandfather’s records.”
“Don’t you have an architect to do that?”
“I take the lead. No one could possibly care about it as much as I do.”
Kendall stopped on the third-floor landing. “So you’re a control freak.” She didn’t mean it as an insult. She admired his dedication. How many men in his position cared about the details?
He reached past her to open the door. Inches apart, they faced each other. His presence resonated through her body, memories of his skin touching hers impossible to fend off. “I prefer methodical, but sure. Call me a control freak. That’s how you get what you want.”
She held her breath, recalling exactly how much control Sawyer had taken during their one night together—the way he’d gathered her wrists in his hands and pinned her arms to the mattress as he trailed kisses along her jaw, her neck, then across her collarbone and down the centerline of her chest...
Now she was happy for the construction helmet. She’d save herself a tragic head injury if he continued to plant these thoughts in her head and she fainted.
They entered a service hall and found yet another door hidden away around a corner. How anyone would ever find this was beyond her. He opened it and she stepped inside, the odor of fresh paint hitting her nose. Sawyer again flipped on the lights, revealing a room that put the ballroom ceiling to shame. She had not seen this room in her research.
A long, ebony bar lined one side of the room, with leaded glass pendant fixtures pooling light on the gleaming surface. The other side had more than a dozen intimate booths, with dark leather seats and ornate black and gold metal screens separating them. In the wall at the far end of the room was a massive circular frame, tall enough to skim the ceiling and graze the floor, and just as wide. It was shrouded in paper, but sunlight filtered through at the edges.
“A window? On the front of the building?” Kendall asked. “I don’t remember this.”
Sawyer nodded. “It was an original feature, but it was taken out in 1919. I had it rebuilt from the first photos of the hotel.”
“Why would anyone close up a window?”
“It’s a bar, and it was Prohibition. The entire thing was closed up, at least from the outside. In fact, the Grand Staircase led to nothing but the third floor elevators at that time. As far as the outside world knew, this didn’t exist. But if you were in the know, it was the busiest place in the entire hotel.”
“A speakeasy?”
He smiled with a hint of mischief. “You know, my great-grandfather bought the hotel with money he earned from bootlegging. The speakeasy is how he found out about it in the first place.”
“So that’s true? The Locke family fortune came from running liquor?”
“My family comes from very humble beginnings. But my great-grandfather had big ideas.” There was a fondness in his voice that warmed her heart. She hadn’t expected him to be sentimental. “It makes my father crazy. He’d prefer to think of the Lockes as upper crust through and through, but that’s just not the case.”
“You can’t change family history.”
“Exactly. And isn’t that the American dream? Make your way however you can? So much of what I have is because my great-grandfather was determined to make a better life for himself. Starting with this hotel.”
The fire in his eyes and the way color rose in his cheeks said how much this meant to him. She’d learned in Maine exactly how passionate he could be. “I’m sensing the hotel is more than another piece of your real estate portfolio.”
He turned to her, scanning her face. It was much more difficult to stay trained on the task at hand when they were alone like this. Another time or in another set of circumstances, it wouldn’t take much to convince her to kiss him, to see how much of his fire he might be willing to unleash on her.
But she was stuck with the here and now. Her lips and his were never to meet again.
“The Grand Legacy is my baby. I’ve been in love with this hotel since I was a kid. It’s a tie to my true family history, not the version of it my dad wishes were true.”
The Locke family tree was starting to come together now. “Is that why your great-grandfather left it to you? Instead of keeping it as part of Locke Hotels?” Kendall pulled out a notepad, wanting to take notes. As soon as she got back to the office, she was going to pen her first press release and start setting up the key interviews.
Sawyer shrugged. “Care to sit for a minute?”
“Oh, sure.” They slid into the closest booth.
He reached across the table and took the construction helmet off her head. It was such a simple gesture, but it all happened in slow motion as it brought back a memory from the wedding. “I think you can lose this. You’re safe.”
She smoothed her hair, wishing she had a mirror and a moment to collect herself. She saw him in the elevator at the wedding, the moment he’d brushed the side of her face with the back of his hand, telling her she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It had probably been a line. She’d suspected it at the time. But part of her wanted so desperately to believe it, even now, when she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him like this. That was how good Sawyer was at getting what he wanted. He made her want to give him everything.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked, steadying her voice. “Do you think your dad could be behind the story in the paper?”
Sawyer didn’t say a thing, he merely melted her resolve with his warm brown eyes. They were so soulful, so deep, so sad. “I don’t have proof, but yes, there’s more than a chance. Is it that obvious?” His voice was low and rough.
Kendall felt no sense of victory from having made this deduction. “Things all seemed to point to him. Is he really that vindictive? You’d think he would be happy you have this project. It means so much to you. He doesn’t even like the hotel, so why not just let you have it? Why would he want to hurt you like that?” She was surprised at the way her voice cracked, the way her emotions had bubbled to the surface. She was normally much more even-keeled, but her heart went out to Sawyer. She and her mom had butted heads over the years, but it was only ever out of love. They had both wanted the best for the other person. That did not appear to be the case for Sawyer.
He nodded and sat back, draping his arms across the back of the booth. “As far as he’s concerned, I’m guilty of far more than inheriting the hotel. I’m guilty of defying him. He does not like it when he doesn’t get what he wants.” Everything in his tone was dead serious. The problems between Sawyer and his dad were much more than family squabbles.
“I see.”
“Which is precisely why he’s not going to stop me.”
And that made Kendall want to give Sawyer every last thing she could.
* * *
Sawyer hated having to admit to Kendall that his father was his biggest problem. She might not be his to impress, but he didn’t want her to see him as vulnerable. He didn’t play that game. Not being able to stop or control his dad made him feel powerless, and he despised that more than anything. He knew, deep down, that it wasn’t true weakness—he merely wasn’t willing to stoop to his dad’s level. Sawyer fought with fists up, out in the open. His dad not only wasn’t afraid to deliver a sucker punch, it was his specialty.
“I’m so sorry, Sawyer. That’s terrible.” She reached across the table, her eyes brimming with sympathy.
At first, he took it as a sweet gesture, until he saw the ring on her finger and the air was sucked out of the room. “Pretty sad, isn’t it? All of this money on the line and I’m fighting my own dad? And it’s not just the newspaper story. There have been countless problems with the construction. Problems that all point to him.”
“Can’t you call a truce? Reason with him?”
Sawyer laughed quietly. She had this edge of hopefulness that was so appealing. Damn the guy who had to go and put that rock on her finger. If it wasn’t there, he could at least take her out for a drink and apologize for not calling her. He could feel like less of an ass. “It’s impossible to reason with someone when they won’t own up to doing anything wrong.”
She gnawed on her lip, seeming deep in thought. “Do you want to do something about that? Go on the offensive?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“The PR campaign. We can put a new twist on it. Show your dad not only that you won’t be stopped, but maybe thumb your nose at him a little. I mean, if you’re up for that.”
“I don’t want to get sneaky. It’s not my style.”
“Oh, this won’t be sneaky. At all. There will be no doubt what we’re up to.”
Sawyer had been really turned on yesterday by Kendall’s talk of the slow burn, but this was taking things to a whole new level. A woman with a plan to get back at his dad? If she wasn’t engaged, the temptation to cross every professional boundary between them would be too much. “Please. Go on.”
“Let’s flaunt the history of this hotel that you love, everything your great-grandfather wasn’t ashamed of, but your dad hates.”
Sawyer was dying to know where she was going with this. “How, exactly?”
“We’ll still show the care and time you’ve put into restoration. We’ll show off the Grand Legacy’s beauty and luxury, just as we planned, but we talk about it in the context of the scandalous things that went on. We sell the Grand Legacy as the most notorious hotel in the city.”
The words rang in his head. The most notorious hotel in the city.
“You know how people are.” Kendall furiously scribbled notes as her voice became even more animated. “They love things that are naughty. Wrap that up in a sexy, beautiful package? It’s irresistible.”
Sawyer had to stem the tide of blood flowing in his body right now...the sexy, beautiful woman in front of him was too much to take. Every inch of him grew taut. If he could have done anything at that moment, it would’ve been to kiss her, and take her—right there in that booth. He couldn’t have been more attracted to her if he tried. “I love it. It’s fantastic. Absolutely incredible.” You’re incredible. And I’m an idiot.
She wrote down a few more things, then flipped her notebook closed and tucked it inside her purse. “Great. Well, I think this has been very productive. I should head into the office. I want to finish fleshing out my publicity plan, start setting up interviews. We’ll start right away. Jillian is going to want an update and I know you’re busy.”
“I can show you more the next time you’re here. The restaurant is close to completion and we’re opening a second bar.”
“Sure. Next time.”
He was going to have to fight his anticipation of next time. “Let me call a car for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll hop in a cab.”
He was still struggling with the distance she was so determined to keep between them. Sure, this was just business, but they did have a rapport. There was a spark between them—and frankly, it wasn’t that unlike their dynamic at the wedding. Did she have a spark like that with her fiancé? If so, it was no wonder the guy had been smart enough to pop the question. Sawyer was once again asking himself how smart it was to be the guy who won’t keep a woman around. “At least let me walk you outside and hail you a cab.”
She nodded, her eyes softening. “Okay. But do I have to wear this thing?” She grabbed the yellow construction helmet from the table.
He took it, their fingers brushing. Touching her was the final blow—he was going to need some alone time after this. “Just stay close to me.”
Once outside, they stopped at the curb, both of them eyeing the street for a cab.
“I really do love your plan.” He didn’t want their talk to end. He was already disappointed she was leaving.
“Call my cell if you need to reach me.” She cleared her throat and looked off in the distance down the street, avoiding eye contact. “You still have my number? From the wedding?”
He’d wondered when this would come up. “I do.” A moment of choking silence played out.
“So you chose not to call me,” she said matter-of-factly.
He didn’t enjoy being the way he was with women, unable to take things beyond the very beginning; he’d merely learned to accept this as one of his shortcomings. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t call any women.”
“Ever?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Then why ask for her number at all? That’s just classic jerky guy behavior. I would expect better of you.”
Sawyer wasn’t a big fan of her characterization, but he’d had a few drinks thrown in his face. Kendall wasn’t the only woman with this opinion. “I suppose it is. But it’s not like you called me either.”
“Call me old-fashioned, but I wait for a man to call.”
Yeah, Sawyer wasn’t buying that. Kendall was too strong, too independent, too bullheaded. “And call me old-fashioned, but you’re engaged now, so you must be happy I didn’t call you.” That ring on her finger was the real reason she hadn’t called him. And she had no right to get angry with him for something that had worked out in her favor. “Your fiancé is probably happy about it, too.”
Kendall didn’t say a thing. She didn’t even look at him.
“Lucky guy.” Sawyer wanted to punch himself for his inability to let this go, but there was this curiosity building up inside him that refused to go away. Call it competitiveness—he had to know what the guy who landed Kendall was like. What made him so special?
“Hmm?” She cast her sights back at him for only an instant.
“Your fiancé. He’s a lucky guy.”
“Unless you’re guessing someone’s phone number, it doesn’t take luck to make a call.”
Ouch. “There’s a cab coming.” He stepped into the street and raised his hand. She was only a few feet away, not looking at him, her shoulders tense. He’d upset her. Her hair fell across her cheek, and she quickly tucked it back behind her ear. He didn’t want to stare, but it was impossible to tear his vision away—she was too beautiful. Too gorgeous. Too frustrating.
The taxi stopped. He opened the door and watched as she climbed in, catching a glimpse of her long and shapely leg as her skirt hitched up. He would’ve done anything to climb into the backseat with her and take her to his place—make up for being the guy who hadn’t called. For the first time in a really long time, he was second-guessing his well-honed talent for avoiding romance. He hadn’t always been that guy. Only hurt had made him into that, hurt that could never be undone.
“Thanks for the tour.” She peered up at him with her deep blue eyes.
“Thank you for your amazing ideas. I can’t wait to get started. I can’t wait to tell my brother.”
She smiled, her face lighting up as it should have. She’d done an incredible job. “I’m glad our professional relationship works so well. Since the other never would have.”
Well then. “Right. Me, too.” Sawyer reluctantly said goodbye and closed the car door, wandering back to the curb, trying to shake the effects of Kendall’s words—all of them. Only work would get him back on track. He dialed Noah’s number.
“How’d it go with the tour?” his brother asked.
Sawyer watched as the cab turned and drove out of sight. “I think the woman might be a genius. And that means we’re changing everything. We’re turning the whole thing upside down.”
Four (#u0bb942e3-940e-580c-b68d-00476ee6b7b0)
“What time is Locke coming in?” Kendall’s work nemesis, Wes, sauntered into the conference room and snatched a cookie from the tray she’d set out for Sawyer.
Kendall smacked his hand. “It’s Mr. Locke. And those cookies aren’t for you.”
Wes shrugged and plopped down in one of the conference room chairs. Everything about him screamed arrogance—his unmoving hair, the shine of his shoes, even the way he rocked in the chair. “I still don’t understand why Jillian gave you first shot at this account. She’s going to end up regretting it.”
Kendall fought the urge to scream at him to leave her alone. Some day he would be her subordinate. Then she could yell if she wanted to. For now, best behavior. “I’m standing right here.”
“And your point would be what?”
“I swear to God, you are the only person on the planet who bad-mouths someone to their face. Can’t you be civilized and go gossip about me in the break room like a normal person?”
He wagged a finger at her. “I do not sugarcoat. You should know that by now.”
“We’re in PR. The whole job is sugarcoating and creating illusions.”
“Is that what you’re doing with that ring? Creating illusions?”
When Wes had first asked about the ring, she’d simply told him to butt out of her personal life. The next twenty times he’d asked, she’d ignored him. Apparently that wasn’t a strong enough signal. “I told you before. It’s none of your business.”
“You’re only saying that because you don’t want to tell the truth. You aren’t engaged. You’re only letting people think that you are. I can’t decide if it’s smart or incredibly sad. Care to weigh in on it?”
The blood drained from Kendall’s face, but she did her best to overlook her body’s traitorous response. She wasn’t going to dignify his question with an answer.
“Look. I get it,” he continued. “We work for a woman who is very clear about where the lines are. I’ve seen clients flirt with you. So you want to send everyone a polite warning to stay away. With the VP job in play, it might be genius. If it helps you stay out of trouble and get the job.”
It was one thing to have her close friends at work know the truth. She couldn’t lie to them. Wes? His personality, and his agenda, made it easy to keep everything from him. “It’s a lovely theory, Wes. Truly lovely. Now please leave. I have to finish preparing. You’re distracting me.”
“Let me stay for a few minutes. I think you should introduce me to Locke. He’s our newest and biggest client. I should at least be up to speed on this project. You’re not the only one with a shot at VP.”
“No. You are not meeting Sawyer Locke.”
“Why not?”
Kendall had had enough. “Because you’re annoying the hell out of me and I have work to do.” She marched over to Wes’s chair and began pushing him out of the conference room, but he was much heavier than she’d guessed. She only got a few inches before he stopped her by digging his heels into the carpet.
He stood and turned, jabbing a finger at her face. “You are ridiculously territorial, Ross. I won’t forget this.”
Kendall shook her head. “Of course you won’t. I expect nothing less of you.”
Wes took a cookie, stuck it in his mouth, holding it in his teeth while he grabbed another and left.
Kendall blew out a long breath. She wasn’t about to let Wes get to her any more than he already had. She took her seat and reviewed her notes. She had to focus. Everything was perfect right now. Sawyer was a very happy client, she had a brilliant PR plan and her ring had done its job. Wes wasn’t going to mess that up.
Today’s schedule included three different phone interviews for Sawyer to do over the next two hours. Normally, she might have a client do them on their own, but Kendall wanted to be in the room. With his dad doing suspect things and with so little time until the grand reopening of the hotel—they couldn’t afford mistakes. This way, if Sawyer was unsure of something or someone asked him a leading question, Kendall could slip him a note and keep them on message.
She glanced at her watch. But where was he? Five minutes late. Not enough to make her truly nervous, but he didn’t strike her as the guy who’d be anything less than punctual.
A few minutes later, Sawyer walked through the door. She looked up, noting how her immunity to his appearance still hadn’t kicked in. Perhaps there was a vaccine somewhere in the world, something to prevent the shortness of breath and palpitations that came from merely looking at him. She popped up out of her seat and shook his hand, unable to ignore his steely demeanor. He was often serious, but this was something different.
“Sorry I’m late. I got waylaid in the hall by one of your coworkers. A guy named Wes?” Sawyer removed his suit jacket and tossed it over one of the chairs. “He was asking me all sorts of questions.”
Oh no. “Sorry about that. Was he bothering you?” Kendall just narrowly avoided squeaking her reply.
“He had some interesting information about you.” He sat in his seat and looked right at her while he rolled up his shirtsleeves, amping up her nervousness while distracting her with his forearms.
“He’s the office gossip.” Kendall said it as nonchalantly as possible, scribbling nonsense on her legal pad. “You’ll have to tell me about it later. I think we’re all ready to call in for your first interview. I’ve got water for you and I brought in some cookies. I don’t know about you, but I can always use an afternoon pick-me-up.”
“Yeah. Great. Thanks.” He eyed her as he opened a bottle of water and took a swig.
One-syllable answers and a glare. Not good. “Shall we go ahead and get started? This first writer is a notorious stickler for schedules.”
Sawyer nodded. “Of course. Whatever we need to do. You’re in charge.”
“Great.” Kendall punched the number into the conference phone, still feeling like something was very, very wrong.
“I just want one thing,” he said as the phone rang. “When we’re done with these interviews, I want you to tell me why you lied about the ring.”
The writer picked up on the line. “Hello?”
Kendall almost didn’t hear what she said. She was too busy panicking over Sawyer’s request.
* * *
Sawyer didn’t relish the role of putting Kendall on the spot. It made the crease between her eyebrows deeper and she’d lost the warm smile she’d been wearing when he first arrived.
But he’d been lied to, and that didn’t sit well with him, especially not when it came to a lie about an engagement ring. If anyone wanted to know how he became the guy who doesn’t get involved, it all boiled down to an engagement ring.
Unfortunately, there was no time between interviews to talk to her about it. Each went beyond the time they’d allotted, which Sawyer wanted to take as a good sign. The writers seemed genuinely interested in the project. If only he’d shared information about it earlier, he might not be in this situation right now. Except then he also wouldn’t have had a second chance to spend time with Kendall. And now that he knew the ring was a fake, he could stop tiptoeing around a few subjects.
Kendall punched the button on the speakerphone at the end of the third interview. “That went really well. You did a fantastic job. You didn’t need my help at all.”
“It’s not hard to talk about the hotel. I could do it for hours.” He’d gotten on a roll during the calls, even forgetting the topic of Kendall and the ring a few times. Now he could feel himself floating back down to earth. He couldn’t work with her if he didn’t know why she’d lied.
“I have a few more interviews for you to do later this week, but after seeing you in action today, I don’t think we have anything to worry about. I’m working on an interview with Margaret Sharp for a week from today. She’ll bring her own photographer. You might want to clear your schedule.”
“The Margaret Sharp?” Sawyer was impressed. She wrote for dozens of high-profile magazines.
“Uh-huh. That’s the one.” Kendall collected her things in a hurry, like she was ready to walk out, but he couldn’t let her leave.
“Don’t go, Kendall. We need to talk about the ring. Wes told me it’s a fake. He said he heard women in the office talking about it. He told me he even spoke to you about it.” The memories of his fiancée’s betrayal were right there in his head, tangled up with his anger over Kendall misleading him. And to think he’d given himself a hard time about not calling her—all of that self-torture for nothing.
“You’d believe someone you just met in the hallway over me?”
He didn’t really have an answer to that. “I thought the ring was suspicious from the beginning.”
“Suspicious? Why? Because it’s hard to believe someone would want to marry a woman you couldn’t be bothered to call?”
She was fighting back a little too hard now. “Look. I need to know that I can trust you. I can’t work with someone who lies to me. So tell me now. Are you really engaged to be married?” Even though he was fairly certain the engagement wasn’t real, the wait for the answer seemed unnecessarily painful. He wasn’t sure what answer he was supposed to want. Either she was engaged, Wes was an imbecile and Sawyer needed to drop it. Or she’d lied and was single—a deal breaker delivered with good news.

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