A Very Exclusive Engagement
A Very Exclusive Engagement
Andrea Laurence
Media mogul Liam Crowe can’t control the chemistry with spitfire employee Francesca Orr.First she’s calling him names in the boardroom; next, she’s kissing him! Now Liam has a name for her: fiancée, because Francesca is perfect fake fiancée material! But when she goes along with the plan, things get very real very fast…
“It takes everything I’ve got not to touch you when I see you sitting there like that.”
There was a long silence, and then her voice again. “Why don’t you?”
Liam’s jaw was flexed tight, his whole body tense, as he tried to hold back the desire for her that was building inside. “I didn’t think it was a good idea. I’m your boss. We have to work together. Things would get weird. Wouldn’t they?”
Please let her say no.
“I don’t think so,” she said, slowly climbing to her knees. “We’re both adults. We know what this is and what it means.” She crawled leisurely across the elevator floor, stopping in front of him. Her hands went to his belt buckle as she looked up at him through her thick, coal-black lashes. “What happens in the elevator stays in the elevator, right?”
About the Author
ANDREA LAURENCE has been a lover of reading and writing stories since she learned her ABCs. She always dreamed of seeing her work in print and is thrilled to finally be able to share her books with the world. A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted to the Deep South, she’s working on her own “happily ever after” with her boyfriend and their collection of animals that shed like nobody’s business. You can contact Andrea at her website, www.andrealaurence.com.
A Very Exclusive Engagement
Andrea Laurence
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my series mates—
Barbara, Michelle, Robyn, Rachel and Jennifer
It was a pleasure working with each of you.
Thanks for welcoming a newbie to the club.
And our editor, Charles
Sei fantastico. È stato bello lavorare con voi. Grazie per il cioccolato le sardine.
One
Figliodi un allevatore di maiali.
Liam Crowe didn’t speak Italian. The new owner of the American News Service network could barely order Italian food, and he was pretty sure his Executive Vice President of Community Outreach knew it.
Francesca Orr had muttered the words under her breath during today’s emergency board meeting. He’d written down what she’d said—or at least a close enough approximation–in his notebook so he could look it up later. The words had fallen from her dark red lips in such a seductive way. Italian was a powerful language. You could order cheese and it would sound like a sincere declaration of love. Especially when spoken by the dark, exotic beauty who’d sat across the table from him.
And yet, he had the distinct impression that he wasn’t going to like what she’d said to him.
He hadn’t expected taking over the company from Graham Boyle to be a cakewalk. The former owner and several employees were in jail following a phonehacking scandal that had targeted the president of the United States. The first item on the agenda for the board meeting had been to suspend ANS reporter Angelica Pierce for suspicion of misconduct. Hayden Black was continuing his congressional investigation into the role Angelica may have played in the affair. Right now, they had enough cause for the suspension. When Black completed his investigation—and hopefully uncovered some hard evidence—Liam and his Board of Directors would determine what additional action to take.
He was walking into a corporate and political maelstrom, but that was the only reason he had been able to afford to buy controlling stock in the company in the first place. ANS was the crown jewel of broadcast media. The prize he’d always had his eye on. The backlash of the hacking scandal had brought the network and its owner, Graham Boyle, to their knees. Even with Graham behind bars and the network coming in last in the ratings for most time slots, Liam knew he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to buy ANS.
So, they had a major scandal to overcome. A reputation to rebuild. Nothing in life was easy, and Liam liked a challenge. But he’d certainly hoped that the employees of ANS, and especially his own Board of Directors, would be supportive. From the night janitor to the CFO, jobs were on the line. Most of the people he spoke to were excited about him coming aboard and hopeful they could put the hacking scandal behind them to rebuild the network.
But not Francesca. It didn’t make any sense. Sure, she had a rich and famous movie producer father to support her if she lost her position with ANS, but charity was her job. Surely she cared about the employees of the company as much as she cared about starving orphans and cancer patients.
It didn’t seem like it, though. Francesca had sat at the conference room table in her formfitting flame-red suit and lit into him like she was the devil incarnate. Liam had been warned that she was a passionate and stubborn woman—that it wouldn’t be personal if they bumped heads—but he wasn’t prepared for this. The mere mention of streamlining the corporate budget to help absorb the losses had sent her on a tirade. But they simply couldn’t throw millions at charitable causes when they were in such a tight financial position.
Suffice it to say, she disagreed.
With a sigh, Liam closed the lid on his briefcase and headed out of the executive conference room to find some lunch on his own. He’d planned to take some of the board members out, but everyone had scattered after the awkward meeting came to an end. He didn’t blame them. Liam had managed to keep control of it, making sure they covered everything on the agenda, but it was a painful process.
Oddly enough, the only thing that had made it remotely tolerable for him was watching Francesca herself. In a room filled with older businesswomen and men in gray, black and navy suits, Francesca was the pop of color and life. Even when she wasn’t speaking, his gaze kept straying back to her.
Her hair was ebony, flowing over her shoulders and curling down her back. Her almond-shaped eyes were dark brown with thick, black lashes. They were intriguing, even when narrowed at him in irritation. When she argued with him, color rushed to her face, giving her flawless tan skin a rosy undertone that seemed all the brighter for her fire-engine red suit and lipstick.
Liam typically had a thing for fiery, exotic women. He’d had his share of blond-haired, blue-eyed debutantes in private school but when he’d gone off to college, he found he had a taste for women a little bit spicier. Francesca, if she hadn’t been trying to ruin his day and potentially his year, would’ve been just the kind of woman he’d ask out. But complicating this scenario with a fling gone wrong was something he didn’t need.
Right now, what he did need was a stiff drink and some red meat from his favorite restaurant. He was glad ANS’s corporate headquarters were in New York. While he loved his place in D.C., he liked coming back to his hometown. The best restaurants in the world, luxury box seats for his favorite baseball team…the vibe of Manhattan was just so different.
He’d be up here from time to time on business. Really, he wished it was all the time, but if he wanted to be in the thick of politics, which was ANS’s focus, Washington was where he had to be. So he’d set up his main office in the D.C. newsroom, as Boyle had, keeping both his apartment in New York and the town house in Georgetown that he’d bought while he went to college there. It was the best of both worlds as far as he was concerned.
Liam went to his office before he left for lunch. He put his suitcase on the table and copied Francesca’s words from his notebook onto a sticky note. He carried it with him, stopping at his assistant’s desk on his way out.
“Jessica, it’s finally over. Mrs. Banks will be bringing you the paperwork to process Ms. Pierce’s suspension. Human Resources needs to get that handled right way. Now that that mess is behind me, I think I’m going to find some lunch.” He handed her the note with the Italian phrase written on it. “Could you get this translated for me while I’m gone? It’s Italian.”
Jessica smiled and nodded as though it wasn’t an unusual request. She’d apparently done this in the past as Graham Boyle’s assistant. “I’ll take care of it, sir. I have the website bookmarked.” Glancing down at the yellow paper she shook her head. “I see Ms. Orr has given you a special welcome to the company. This is one I haven’t seen before.”
“Should I feel honored?”
“I don’t know yet, sir. I’ll tell you once I look it up.”
Liam chuckled, turning to leave, then stopping. “Out of curiosity,” he asked, “what did she call Graham?”
“Her favorite was stronzo.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It has several translations, none of which I’m really comfortable saying out loud.” Instead, she wrote them on the back of the note he’d handed her.
“Wow,” he said, reading as she wrote. “Certainly not a pet name, then. I’m going to have to deal with Ms. Orr before this gets out of control.”
A blur of red blew past him and he looked up to see Francesca heading for the elevators in a rush. “Here’s my chance.”
“Good luck, sir,” he heard Jessica call to him as he trotted to the bank of elevators.
One of the doors had just opened and he watched Francesca step inside and turn to face him. She could see him coming. Their eyes met for a moment and then she reached to the panel to hit the button. To close the doors faster.
Nice.
He thrust his arm between the silver sliding panels and they reopened to allow him to join her. Francesca seemed less than pleased with the invasion. She eyeballed him for a moment under her dark lashes and then wrinkled her delicate nose as though he smelled of rotten fish. As the doors began to close again, she scooted into the far corner of the elevator even though they were alone in the car.
“We need to talk,” Liam said as the car started moving down.
Francesca’s eyes widened and her red lips tightened into a straight, hard line. “About what?” she asked innocently.
“About your attitude. I understand you’re passionate about your work. But whether you like it or not, I’m in control of this company and I’m going to do whatever I have to do to save it from the mess that’s been made of it. I’ll not have you making a fool out of me in front of—”
Liam’s words were cut off as the elevator lurched to a stop and the lights went out, blanketing them in total darkness.
This couldn’t really be happening. She was not trapped in a broken elevator with Liam Crowe. Stubborn and ridiculously handsome Liam Crowe. But she should’ve known something bad was going to happen. There had been thirteen people sitting at the table during the board meeting. That was an omen of bad luck.
Nervously, she clutched at the gold Italian horn pendant around her neck and muttered a silent plea for good fortune. “What just happened?” she asked, her voice sounding smaller than she’d like, considering the blackout had interrupted a tongue lashing from her new boss.
“I don’t know.” They stood in the dark for a moment before the emergency lighting system kicked on and bathed them in red light. Liam walked over to the control panel and pulled out the phone that connected to the engineering room. Without saying anything, he hung it back up. Next, he hit the emergency button, but nothing happened; the entire panel was dark and unresponsive.
“Well?” Francesca asked.
“I think the power has gone out. The emergency phone is dead.” He pulled his cell phone out and eyed the screen. “Do you have service on your phone? I don’t.”
She fished in her purse and retrieved her phone, shaking her head as she looked at the screen. There were no bars or internet connectivity. She never got good service in elevators, anyway. “Nothing.”
“Damn it,” Liam swore, putting his phone away. “I can’t believe this.”
“So what do we do now?”
Liam flopped back against the wall with a dull thud. “We wait. If the power outage is widespread, there’s nothing anyone can do.”
“So we just sit here?”
“Do you have a better suggestion? You were full of them this morning.”
Francesca ignored his pointed words, crossed her arms defensively and turned away from him. She eyed the escape hatch in the ceiling. They could try to crawl out through there, but how high were they? They had started on the fifty-second floor and hadn’t gone very far when the elevator stopped. They might be in between floors. Or the power could come back on while they were in the elevator shaft and they might get hurt. It probably was a better idea to sit it out.
The power would come back on at any moment. Hopefully.
“It’s better to wait,” she agreed reluctantly.
“I didn’t think it was possible for us to agree on anything after the board meeting and that fit you threw.”
Francesca turned on her heel to face him. “I did not throw a fit. I just wasn’t docile enough to sit back like the others and let you make bad choices for the company. They’re too scared to rock the boat.”
“They’re scared that the company can’t bounce back from the scandal. And they didn’t say anything because they know I’m right. We have to be fiscally responsible if we’re going to—”
“Fiscally responsible? What about socially responsible? ANS has sponsored the Youth in Crisis charity gala for the past seven years. We can’t just decide not to do it this year. It’s only two weeks away. They count on that money to provide programs for at-risk teens. Those activities keep kids off the streets and involved in sports and create educational opportunities they wouldn’t get without our money.”
Liam frowned at her. She could see the firm set of his jaw even bathed in the dim red light. “You think I don’t care about disadvantaged children?”
Francesca shrugged. “I don’t know you well enough to say.”
“Well, I do care,” he snapped. “I personally attended the ball for the past two years and wrote a big fat check at both of them. But that’s not the point. The point is we need to cut back on expenses to keep the company afloat until we can rebuild our image.”
“No. You’ve got it backward,” she insisted. “You need the charity events to rebuild your image so the company can stay afloat. What looks better in the midst of scandal than a company doing good deeds? It says to the public that some bad people did some bad things here, but the rest of us are committed to making things right. The advertisers will come flocking back.”
Liam watched her for a moment, and she imagined the wheels turning in his head as he thought through her logic. “Your argument would’ve been a lot more effective if you hadn’t shrieked and called me names in Italian.”
Francesca frowned. She hadn’t meant to lose her cool, but she couldn’t help it. She had her mother’s quick Italian tongue and her father’s short fuse. It made for an explosive combination. “I have a bit of a temper,” she said. “I get it from my father.”
Anyone who had worked on the set of a Victor Orr film knew what could happen when things weren’t going right. The large Irishman had a head of thick, black hair and a temper just as dark. He’d blow at a moment’s notice and nothing short of her mother’s soothing hand could calm him down. Francesca was just the same.
“Does he curse in Italian, too?”
“No, he doesn’t speak a word of it and my mother likes it that way. My mother grew up in Sicily and met my father there when he was shooting a film. My mother’s Italian heritage was always very important to her, so when I got older I spent summers there with my nonna.”
“Nonna?”
“My maternal grandmother. I picked up a lot of Italian while I was there, including some key phrases I probably shouldn’t know. I realized as a teenager that I could curse in Italian and my father wouldn’t know what I was saying because he’s Irish. From there it became a bad habit of mine. I’m sorry I yelled,” she added. “I just care too much. I always have.”
Francesca might take after her mother in most things, but her father had made his mark, as well. Victor Orr had come from poor beginnings and raised his two daughters not only to be grateful for what they had, but also to give to the less fortunate. All through high school, Francesca had volunteered at a soup kitchen on Saturdays. She’d organized charity canned food collections and blood drives at school. After college, her father helped her get an entry level job at ANS, where he was the largest minority stockholder. It hadn’t taken long for her to work her way up to the head of community outreach. And she’d been good at it. Graham had never had room to complain about her doing anything less than a stellar job.
But it always came down to money. When things got tight, her budget was always the first to get cut. Why not eliminate some of the cushy corporate perks? Maybe slash the travel budget and force people to hold more teleconferences? Or cut back on the half gallon of hair gel the head anchor used each night for the evening news broadcast?
“I don’t want to hack up your department,” Liam said. “What you do is important for ANS and for the community. But I need a little give and take here. Everyone needs to tighten their belts. Not just you. But I need you to play along, too. It’s hard enough to come into the leadership position of a company that’s doing well, much less one like ANS. I’m going to do everything I can to get this network back on top, but I need everyone’s support.”
Francesca could hear the sincerity in his words. He did care about the company and its employees. They just didn’t see eye to eye quite yet on what to do about it. She could convince him to see things her way eventually. She just had to take a page from her mother’s playbook. It would take time and perhaps a softer hand than she had used with Graham. At least Liam seemed reasonable about it. That won him some points in her book. “Okay.”
Liam looked at her for a moment, surveying her face as though he almost didn’t believe his ears. Then he nodded. They stood silently in the elevator for a moment before Liam started shrugging out of his black suit coat. He tossed the expensive jacket to the ground and followed it with his silk tie. He unbuttoned his collar and took a deep breath, as if he had been unable to do it until then. “I’m glad we’ve called a truce because it’s gotten too warm in here for me to fight anymore. Of course this had to happen on one of the hottest days of the year.”
He was right. The air conditioning was off and it was in the high nineties today, which was unheard of in early May. The longer they sat in the elevator without air, the higher the temperature climbed.
Following his example, Francesca slipped out of her blazer, leaving her in a black silk and lace camisole and pencil skirt. Thank goodness she’d opted out of stockings today.
Kicking off her heels, she spread out her coat on the floor and sat down on it. She couldn’t stand there in those pointy-toed stilettos any longer, and she’d given up hope for any immediate rescue. If they were going to be trapped in here for a while, she was going to be comfortable.
“I wish this had happened after lunch. Those bagels in the conference room burned off a long time ago.”
Francesca knew exactly what he meant. She hadn’t eaten since this morning. She’d had a cappuccino and a sweet cornetto before she’d left her hotel room, neither of which lasted very long. She typically ate a late lunch, so luckily she carried a few snacks in her purse.
Using the light of her phone, she started digging around in her bag. She found a granola bar, a pack of Gocciole Italian breakfast cookies and a bottle of water. “I have a few snacks with me. The question is whether we eat them now and hope we get let out soon, or whether we save them. It could be hours if it’s a major blackout.”
Liam slipped down to the floor across from her. “Now. Definitely now.”
“You wouldn’t last ten minutes on one of those survival reality shows.”
“That’s why I produce them and don’t star in them. My idea of roughing it is having to eat in Times Square with the tourists. What do you have?”
“A peanut butter granola bar and some little Italian cookies. We can share the water.”
“Which is your favorite?”
“I like the cookies. They’re the kind my grandmother would feed me for breakfast when I stayed with her. They don’t eat eggs or meat for breakfast like Americans do. It was one of the best parts of visiting her—cake and cookies for breakfast.”
Liam grinned, and Francesca realized it was the first time she’d seen him smile. It was a shame. He had a beautiful smile that lit up his whole face. It seemed more natural than the serious expression he’d worn all day, as though he were normally a more carefree and relaxed kind of guy. The pressure of buying ANS must have been getting to him. He’d been all business this morning and her behavior certainly didn’t help.
Now he was stressed out, hungry and irritated about being trapped in the elevator. She was glad she could make him smile, even if just for a moment. It made up for her behavior this morning. Maybe. She made a mental note to try to be more cordial in the future. He was being reasonable and there was no point in making things harder than they had to be.
“Cake for breakfast sounds awesome. As do summers in Italy. After high school I got to spend a week in Rome, but that’s it. I didn’t get around to seeing much more than the big sites like the Colosseum and the Parthenon.” He looked down at the two packages in her hand. “I’ll take the granola bar since you prefer the cookies. Thank you for sharing.”
Francesca shrugged. “It’s better than listening to your stomach growl for an hour.” She tossed him the granola bar and opened the bottle of water to take a conservative sip.
Liam ripped into the packaging. His snack was gone before Francesca had even gotten the first cookie in her mouth. She chuckled as she ate a few, noting him eyeing her like a hungry tiger. Popping another into her mouth, she gently slung the open bag to him. “Here,” she said. “I can’t take you watching me like that.”
“Are you sure?” he said, eyeing the cookies that were now in his hand.
“Yes. But when we get out of this elevator, you owe me.”
“Agreed,” he said, shoveling the first of several cookies into his mouth.
Francesca imagined it took a lot of food to keep a man Liam’s size satisfied. He was big like her nonno had been. Her grandfather had died when she was only a few years old, but her nonna had told her about how much she had to cook for him after he worked a long shift. Like Nonno, Liam was more than six feet tall, solidly built but on the leaner side, as though he were a runner. A lot of people jogged around the National Mall in D.C. Or so she’d heard. She could imagine him down there with the others. Jogging shorts. No shirt. Sweat running down the hard muscles of his chest. It made her think maybe she should go down there every now and then, if just for the view.
She, however, didn’t like to sweat. Running during the humid summers in Virginia was out of the question. As was running during the frigid, icy winters. So she just didn’t. She watched what she ate, indulged when she really wanted to and walked as much as her heels would allow. That kept her at a trim but curvy weight that pleased her.
Speaking of sweating…she could feel the beads of sweat in her hairline, ready and waiting to start racing down the back of her neck. She already felt sticky, but there wasn’t much else to take off unless she planned to get far closer to Liam than she ever intended.
Although that wouldn’t be all bad.
It had been a while since Francesca had dated anyone. Her career had kept her busy, but she always kept her eyes open to the possibilities. Nothing of substance had popped up in a long time. But recently all of her friends seemed to be settling down. One by one, and she worried she might be the last.
Not that Liam Crowe was settling-down material. He was just sexy, fling material. she typically didn’t indulge in pleasure without potential. But seeing those broad shoulders pulling against the confines of his shirt, she realized that he might be just what she needed. Something to release the pressure and give her the strength to hold out for “the one.”
Francesca reached into her bag and pulled out a hair clip. She gathered up the thick, dark strands of her hair and twisted them up, securing them with the claw. It helped but only for a moment. Her tight-fitting pencil skirt was like a heavy, wet blanket thrown over her legs. And her camisole, while seemingly flimsy, was starting to get damp and cling to her skin.
If they didn’t get out of this elevator soon, something had to come off. Taking another sip of water, she leaned her head back against the wall and counted herself lucky that if nothing else, she’d worn pretty, matching underwear today. She had the feeling that Liam would appreciate that.
Two
“Sweet mercy, it’s hot!” Liam exclaimed, standing up. He felt as if he was being smothered by his crisp, starched dress shirt. He unfastened the buttons down the front and whipped it off with a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I’ve got to do it.”
Francesca was sitting quietly in the corner and barely acknowledged him, although he did catch her opening her eyes slightly to catch a glimpse of him without his shirt on. She looked away a moment later, but it was enough to let him know she was curious. That was interesting.
He’d gotten a different insight into his feisty executive vice president of Community Outreach in the past two hours. He had a better understanding of her and what was important to her. Hopefully once they got out of this elevator they could work together without the animosity. And maybe they could be a little more than friendly. Once she had stopped yelling, he liked her. More than he probably should, considering that she worked for him.
“Francesca, take off some of your clothes. I know you’re dying over there.”
She shook her head adamantly, although he could see the beads of sweat running down her chest and into the valley between her breasts. “No, I’m fine.”
“The hell you are. You’re just as miserable as I am. That tank you’re wearing looks like it will cover up enough to protect your honor. The skirt looks terribly clingy. Take it off. Really. I’m about ten minutes from losing these pants, so you might as well give up on any modesty left between us.”
Francesca looked up at him with wide eyes. “Your pants?” she said, swallowing hard. Her gaze drifted down his bare chest to his belt and then lower.
“Yes. It’s gotta be ninety-five degrees and climbing in this oven they call an elevator. You don’t have to look at me, but I’ve got to do it. You might as well do it, too.”
With a sigh of resignation, Francesca got up from the floor and started fussing with the latch on the back of her skirt. “I can’t get the clasp. It snags sometimes.”
“Let me help,” Liam offered. She turned her back to him and he crouched down behind her to get a better look at the clasp in the dim red light. This close to her, he could smell the scent of her warm skin mixed with the soft fragrance of roses. It wasn’t overpowering—more like strolling through a rose garden on a summer day. He inhaled it into his lungs and held it there for a moment. It was intoxicating.
He grasped the two sides of the clasp, ignoring the buzz of awareness that shot through his fingertips as he brushed her bare skin beneath it. With a couple of firm twists and pulls, it came apart. He gripped the zipper tab and pulled it down a few inches, revealing the back of the red satin panties she wore.
“Got it,” he said with clenched teeth, standing back up and moving away before he did something stupid like touch her any more than was necessary. It was one thing to sit in the elevator in his underwear. It was another thing entirely to do it when he had a raging erection. That would be a little hard to disguise.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes warily watching him as she returned to her corner of the elevator.
As she started to shimmy the skirt down her hips, Liam turned away, although it took every ounce of power he had to do so. She was everything he liked in a woman. Feisty. Exotic. Voluptuous. And underneath it all, a caring soul. She wasn’t one of those rich women that got involved in charity work because they had nothing better to do with their time. She really cared. And he appreciated that, even if it would cost him a few headaches in the future.
“Grazie, signore,” she said with a sigh. “That does feel better.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her settle back down on the floor. “Is it safe?” he asked.
“As safe as it’s going to get. Thank you for asking.”
Liam looked over at her. She had tugged down her camisole to cover most everything to the tops of her thighs, although now a hint of her red bra was peeking out from the top. There was only so much fabric to go around, and with her luscious curves, keeping them all covered would be a challenge.
“You might as well just take those pants off now.”
Liam chuckled and shook his head. Not after thinking about her satin-covered breasts. He didn’t even have to touch her to make that an impossibility. “That’s probably not the best idea at the moment.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why—” she started, then stopped. “Oh.”
Liam closed his eyes and tried to wish his arousal away, but all that did was bring images of those silky red panties to his mind. “That’s the challenge of being trapped in a small space with a beautiful, half-naked woman.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” her hesitant voice came after a long moment of silence between them.
He planted his hands on his hips. “I do.”
“I didn’t expect that.”
Liam turned to look at her. “Why on earth not? I think a man would have to be without a pulse to not find you desirable.”
“I grew up in Beverly Hills,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “I’m not saying I never dated in school—I did—but there was certainly a higher premium placed on the Malibu Barbie dolls.”
“The what?”
“You know, the blond, beach-tanned girls with belly button piercings and figures like twelve-year-old boys? At least until they turn eighteen and get enough money to buy a nice pair of breasts.”
“People in Hollywood are nuts,” he said. “There was nothing remotely erotic about me as a twelve-year-old. You, on the other hand…” Liam shook his head, the thoughts of her soft curves pressing against the palms of his hands making his skin tingle with anticipation. He forced them into tight fists and willed the feeling away. “It takes everything I’ve got not to touch you when I see you sitting there like that.”
There was a long silence, and then her voice again. “Why don’t you?”
Liam’s jaw was flexed tight, and his whole body tensed as he tried to hold back the desire that was building inside for her. “I didn’t think it was a good idea. I’m your boss. We have to work together. Things would get weird. Wouldn’t they?”
Please let her say no. Please let her say no.
“I don’t think so,” she said, slowly climbing to her knees. “We’re both adults. We know what this is and what it means.” She crawled leisurely across the elevator floor, stopping in front of him. Her hands went to his belt buckle as she looked up at him through her thick, coal-black lashes. “What happens in the elevator, stays in the elevator, right?”
Liam didn’t know what to say. He could barely form words as her hands undid his belt buckle, then the fly of his pants. But he didn’t stop her. Oh, no. He wanted her too badly to let good sense interfere. Besides, they had time to kill, right? Who knew how long they’d be trapped in here.
His suit pants slid to the floor and he quickly kicked out of them and his shoes. Crouching down until they were at the same level, he reached for the hem of her camisole and pulled it up over her head. Francesca undid the clip holding her hair and the heavy, ebony stands fell down around her shoulders like a sheet of black silk.
The sight of her body in nothing but her red undergarments was like a punch to his guts. She was one of the sexiest women he’d ever seen—and she was mostly naked, and on her knees, in front of him.
How the hell had he gotten this lucky today?
Unable to hold back any longer, he leaned in to kiss her. They collided, their lips and bare skin slamming into one another. Francesca wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her body against him. Her breasts pressed urgently against the hard wall of his chest. Her belly arched into the aching heat of his desire for her.
The contact was electric, the powerful sensations running through his nervous system like rockets, exploding at the base of his spine. He wanted to devour her, his tongue invading her mouth and demanding everything she could give him. She met his every thrust, running her own silken tongue along his and digging her nails frantically into his back.
Liam slipped his arm behind her back and slowly eased her down onto the floor. He quickly found his place between her thighs and dipped down to give attention to the breasts nearly spilling from her bra. It didn’t take much to slip the straps from her shoulders and tug the bra down to her waist. The palms of his hands quickly moved in to take its place. He teased her nipples into firm peaks before capturing one in his mouth.
Francesca groaned and arched into him, her fingertips weaving into his thick, wavy brown hair. She tugged him back up to her mouth and kissed him again. There were no more thoughts of heat or sweat or broken elevators as he lost himself in the pleasurable exploration of her body.
And when he felt her fingers slide down his stomach, slip beneath the waistband of his underwear and wrap around the pulsating length of his erection, for a moment he almost forgot where he was, entirely.
Thank heavens for power outages.
Francesca wasn’t quite sure what had come over her, but she was enjoying every minute of this naughty indulgence. Perhaps being trapped in this hot jail cell was playing with her brain, but she didn’t care. There was just something about Liam. Sure, he was handsome and rich, but she’d seen her share of that kind of man in Washington, D.C. There was something about his intensity, the way he was handling the company and even how he handled her. She’d been fighting the attraction to him since she first laid eyes on him, and then his shirt came off to reveal a wide chest, chiseled abs and a sprinkle of chest hair, and she lost all her reasons to resist.
When he told her that she was beautiful, a part of her deep inside urged her to jump on the unexpected opportunity. To give in to the attraction, however inappropriate, and make a sexy memory out of this crazy afternoon.
She still wanted a solid, lasting relationship like her parents had. They’d been happily married for thirty years in a town where the typical wedding reception lasted longer than the vows. But having a fun fling in an elevator was in a totally different category. Liam would never be the serious kind of relationship, and she knew it, so it didn’t hurt. This was a release. An amusing way to pass the time until the power was restored.
Francesca tightened her grip on Liam until he groaned her name into her ear.
“I want you so badly,” he whispered. He moved his hand along the curve of her waist, gliding down to her hip, where he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away. “You keep doing that and I won’t have the chance to do everything I want to do to you.”
A wicked idea crossed her mind. Francesca reached out with her other hand for the half-empty bottle of water beside them. “Let me cool you off then,” she said, dumping the remains over the top of his head. The cool water soaked his hair and rushed down his face and neck to rain onto her bare skin. It was refreshing and playful, the cool water drawing goose bumps along her bare flesh.
“Man, that felt good,” Liam said, running one hand through his wet hair as he propped himself up with the other. “I don’t want to waste it, though.” He dipped down to lick the droplets of water off her chest, flicking his tongue over her nipples again. He traveled down her stomach to where some of the water had pooled in her navel. He lapped it up with enthusiasm, making her squirm beneath him as her core tightened and throbbed in anticipation.
His fingertips sought out the satin edge of her panties and slipped beneath them. Sliding over her neatly cropped curls, one finger parted her most sensitive spot and stroked her gently. She couldn’t contain the moan of pleasure he coaxed out of her. When he dipped farther to slip the finger deep inside her body, she almost came undone right then. The muscles tightened around him, the sensations of each stroke building a tidal wave that she couldn’t hold back for much longer.
“Liam,” she whispered, but he didn’t stop. His fingers moved more frantically over her, delving inside and pushing her over the edge.
Francesca cried out, her moans of pleasure bouncing off the walls of the small elevator and doubling in volume and intensity. Her hips bucked against his hand, her whole body shuddering with the feeling running through her.
She had barely caught her breath when suddenly there was a jarring rattle. The silence was broken by the roar of engines and air units firing up, and the lights came back on in the elevator.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he groaned.
And then, with Liam still between her thighs and their clothes scattered around the elevator, the car started moving downward. Francesca threw a quick glance to the screen on the wall. They were on the thirty-third floor and falling. “Oh, no,” she said, pushing frantically at his chest until he eased back.
She climbed to her feet, tugging on her skirt and yanking her bra back into place. She didn’t bother tucking in her camisole, but shrugged into her jacket. Liam followed suit, pulling on his pants and shirt. He shoved his tie into his pants pocket and threw his coat over his arm.
“You have my lipstick all over you,” she said, noting less than ten floors to go. Liam ran his hand through his still wet hair and casually rubbed at his face, seeming to be less concerned than she was with how he looked when they walked out.
By the time the elevator came to the first floor and the doors opened, Francesca and Liam were both fully dressed. A bit sloppy, with misaligned buttons and rumpled jackets, but dressed.
They stepped out into the grand foyer where the building engineers and security guards were waiting for them. “Are you two—” one of the men started to speak, pausing when he saw their tousled condition “—okay?”
Liam looked at Francesca, and she could feel her cheeks lighting up crimson with embarrassment. He still had some of her Sizzling Hot Red lipstick on his face, but he didn’t seem to care. “We’re fine,” he said. “Just hot, hungry and glad to finally be out of there. What happened?”
“I’m not sure, sir. The whole island lost power. Wouldn’t you know it would be on such a hot day. Might’ve been everyone turning on their air conditioners for the first time today. Are you guys sure we can’t get you anything? Three hours in there had to be miserable.”
“I’m fine,” Francesca insisted. The engineer’s expression had been a wake-up call from the passionate haze she’d lost herself in. She’d very nearly slept with her boss. Her new boss. On his first day after they’d spent the morning fighting like cats and dogs. The heat must’ve made her delirious to have thought that was a good idea.
At least they’d been interrupted before it went too far. Now she just wanted to get a cab back to her hotel. Then she could change out of these clothes, shower and wash the scent of Liam off her skin. “Just have someone hail me a taxi to my hotel, would you?”
The engineer waved to one of the doormen. “Sure thing. It might take a minute because the traffic lights have been out and there’s been gridlock for hours.”
Without looking at Liam, Francesca started for the door, stepping outside to wait on the sidewalk for her car.
“Talk about bad timing,” Liam said over her shoulder after following her outside.
“Fate has a funny way of keeping you from doing things you shouldn’t do.”
Liam came up beside her, but she wouldn’t turn to look at him. She couldn’t. She’d just get weak in the knees and her resolve to leave would soften.
“I’d like to think of it more as a brief interruption. To build some anticipation for later. Where are you headed?”
“To where I was going before my whole day got sidetracked—back to my hotel. To shower and get some work done. Alone,” she added if that wasn’t clear enough.
“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”
“Yes, I do.” She didn’t. But going out to dinner with Liam would put her right back in the same tempting situation, although hopefully without power outages. She’d given in to temptation once and she’d been rescued from her bad decision. She wasn’t about to do it again.
Liam watched her for a minute. Francesca could feel his eyes scrutinizing her, but she kept her gaze focused on the passing cars. “You said things wouldn’t get weird. That we both knew what this was and what happened in the elevator stayed in the elevator.”
Francesca finally turned to him. She tried not to look into the sapphire-blue eyes that were watching her or the damp curls of his hair that would remind her of what they’d nearly done. “That’s right. And that’s where it will stay. That’s why I don’t want to go to dinner with you. Or to drinks. Or back to your place to pick up where we left off. We’ve left the elevator behind us and the opportunity has come and gone. Appreciate the moment for what it was.”
“What it was is unfinished,” he insisted. “I’d like to change that.”
“Not every project gets completed.” Francesca watched a taxi pull up to the curb. It was empty, thank goodness.
“Come on, Francesca. Let me take you to dinner tonight. Even if just to say thank-you for the granola bar. As friends. I owe you, remember?”
Francesca didn’t believe a word of that friend nonsense. They’d have a nice dinner with expensive wine someplace fancy and she’d be naked again before she knew it. As much as she liked Liam, she needed to stay objective where he was concerned. He was the new owner of ANS and she couldn’t let her head get clouded with unproductive thoughts about him. They’d come to a truce, but they hadn’t fully resolved their issues regarding her budget and the way forward for the network. She wouldn’t put it past an attractive, charming guy like Liam to use whatever tools he had in his arsenal to get his way.
She stepped to the curb as the doorman opened the back door of the taxi for her.
“Wait,” Liam called out, coming to her side again. “If you’re going to leave me high and dry, you can at least tell me what you called me today in the board meeting.”
Francesca smiled. If that didn’t send him packing, nothing else would. “Okay, fine,” she relented. She got into the cab and rolled down the window before Liam shut it. “I called you figlio di un allevatore di maiali. That means ‘the son of a pig farmer.’ It doesn’t quite pack the same punch in English.”
Liam frowned and stepped back from the window. The distance bothered her even though it was her own words that had driven him away. “I’d say it packs enough of a punch.”
She ignored the slightly offended tone of his voice. He wasn’t about to make her feel guilty. He’d deserved the title at the time. “Have a good evening, Mr. Crowe,” she said before the cab pulled away and she disappeared into traffic.
Three
Liam had just stepped from his shower when he heard his cell phone ringing. The tune, “God Save the Queen,” made him cringe. Had he told his great aunt Beatrice he was in Manhattan? She must’ve found out somehow.
He wrapped his towel around his waist and dashed into his bedroom where the phone was lying on the comforter. The words “Queen Bee” flashed on the screen with the photo of a tiara. His aunt Beatrice would not be amused if she knew what the rest of the family called her.
With a sigh, he picked up the phone and hit the answer key. “Hello?”
“Liam,” his aunt replied with her haughty Upper East Side accent. “Are you all right? I was told you were trapped in an elevator all afternoon.”
“I’m fine. Just hungry, but I’m about to—”
“Excellent,” she interrupted. “Then you’ll join me for dinner. There’s an important matter I need to discuss with you.”
Liam bit back a groan. He hated eating at Aunt Beatrice’s house. Mostly because of having to listen to her go on and on about the family and how irresponsible they all were. But even then, she liked them all more than Liam because they kissed her derrière. And that was smart. She was worth two billion dollars with no children of her own to inherit. Everyone was jockeying for their cut.
Everyone but Liam. He was polite and distant. He didn’t need her money. Or at least he hadn’t until the ANS deal came up and he didn’t have enough liquid assets to buy a majority stake quickly. Other people also were interested in the company, including leeches like Ron Wheeler, who specialized in hacking businesses to bits for profit. To move fast, Liam had had to swallow his pride and ask his Aunt to invest in the remaining shares of ANS that he couldn’t afford. Together, they had controlling interest of the company, and by designating her voting powers to him, Aunt Beatrice had put Liam in charge.
Liam had every intention of slowly buying her out over time, but he wouldn’t be able to do so for quite a while. So now, at long last, Aunt Beatrice had something to hold over his head. And when she snapped, for the first time in his life, he had to jump.
“Dinner is at six,” she said, either oblivious or unconcerned about his unhappy silence on the end of the line.
“Yes, Aunt Beatrice. I’ll see you at six.”
After he hung up the phone, he eyed the clock and realized he didn’t have long to get over to her Upper East Side mansion in rush hour traffic. He’d do better to walk, so he needed to get out the door soon.
It was just as well that Francesca had turned down his dinner date so he didn’t have to cancel. That would’ve pained him terribly, even after knowing what she’d called him.
“Son of a pig farmer,” he muttered to himself as he got dressed.
He opted for a gray suit with a pale purple dress shirt and no tie. He hated ties and only wore them when absolutely necessary. Today, he’d felt like he needed to look important and in control at the board meeting. He didn’t want the ANS directors to think they were in the hands of a laid-back dreamer. But as soon as he had a strong foothold in the company, the ties would be gone.
Tonight, he left it off simply because he knew to do so would aggravate Aunt Beatrice. She liked formal dress for dinner but had given up long ago on the family going to that much trouble. She did, however, still expect a jacket and tie for the men and a dress and hosiery for the ladies. It was only proper. Leaving off the tie would be a small but noted rebellion on his part. He didn’t want her to think she had him completely under her thumb.
It wasn’t until he rang the doorbell that he remembered her mentioning something about an important issue she wanted to discuss. He couldn’t imagine what it could be, but he sincerely hoped it didn’t involve him dating someone’s daughter. Aunt Beatrice was singleminded in her pursuit of marriage and family for Liam. He couldn’t fathom why she cared.
“Good evening, Mr. Crowe,” her ancient butler Henry said as he opened the door.
Henry had worked for his aunt Liam’s entire life and a good number of years before that. The man was in his seventies now but as spry and chipper as ever.
“Good evening, Henry. How is she tonight?” he asked, leaning in to the elderly man and lowering his voice.
“She’s had a bee in her bonnet about something all afternoon, sir. She made quite a few calls once the power was restored.”
Liam frowned. “Any idea what it’s about?”
“I don’t. But I would assume it involves you because you were the only one invited to dinner this evening.”
That was odd. Usually Aunt Beatrice invited at least two family members to dinner. She enjoyed watching them try to one-up each other all night and get in her good favor. It really was a ridiculous exercise, but it was amazing what the family would do just because she asked. His grandfather, Aunt Beatrice’s brother, had never had much to do with her, so neither did that branch of the family. It was only after all the others of the generation had died that she took over as matriarch. Then, even Liam’s part of the family was drawn back into the fold.
Liam held his tongue as Henry led him through the parlor and into the formal dining room. When a larger group was expected, Aunt Beatrice would greet her guests in the parlor and then adjourn to the dining room when everyone had arrived. Apparently because it was just him they bypassed the formalities and went straight to dinner.
Aunt Beatrice was there in her seat at the head of the long, oak table, looking regal as always. Her gray hair was curled perfectly, her rose chiffon dress nicely accented by the pink sapphire necklace and earrings she paired with it. she didn’t smile as he entered. Instead, she evaluated him from top to bottom, her lips tightening into a frown when she noted his lack of tie.
“Good evening, Aunt Beatrice,” he said with a wide smile to counter her grimace. He came around the table and placed a kiss on her cheek before sitting down at the place setting to her right.
“Liam,” she said, acknowledging him without any real warmth. That’s why he’d always thought of her as royalty. Stiff, formal, proper. He couldn’t imagine what she would have been like if she had married and had children. Children would require laughter and dirt—two things unthinkable in this household.
Henry poured them each a glass of wine and disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve their first course. Liam hated to see the old man wait on him. He should be in a recliner, watching television and enjoying his retirement, not serving meals to privileged people capable of doing it themselves. The man had never even married. He had no life of his own outside of this mansion.
“When are you going to let Henry retire?” he asked. “The poor man deserves some time off before he drops dead in your foyer.”
Aunt Beatrice bristled at the suggestion. “He loves it here. He wouldn’t think of leaving me. And besides, Henry would never die in the foyer. He knows how expensive that Oriental rug is.”
Liam sighed and let the subject drop. Henry placed bowls of soup in front of them both and disappeared again. “So, what have you summoned me here to discuss tonight?” He might as well just get it over with. There was no sense waiting for the chocolate soufflé or the cheese course.
“I received a phone call today from a man named Ron Wheeler.”
Liam stiffened in his seat and stopped his spoon of soup in midair. Ron Wheeler was in the business of buying struggling companies and “streamlining” them. That usually involved laying off at least half the employees and hacking up the benefits packages of the ones who were left. Then he’d break the company up into smaller pieces and sell them off for more than the price of the whole. No one liked to hear the mention of his name. “And what did he have to say?”
“He heard I’d bought a large portion of Graham Boyle’s ANS stock. He’s made me an extremely generous offer to buy it.”
At that, Liam dropped his spoon, sending splatters of butternut squash all across the pristine white tablecloth. Henry arrived in an instant to clean up the mess and bring him a new spoon, but Liam didn’t want it. He couldn’t stomach the idea of food at this point.
“Aunt Beatrice, your holding is larger than mine. If you sell him your stock, he’ll gain majority control of the company. The whole network will be at risk.”
She nodded, setting down her own spoon. “I realize that. And I know how important the company is to you. But I also want you to know how important this family is to me. I won’t be around forever, Liam. This family needs someone strong and smart to run it. You don’t need me to tell you that most of our relatives are idiots. My two sisters never had any sense and neither did their children. My father knew it, too, which is why he left most of the family money to me and your grandfather. He knew they’d all be broke and homeless without someone sensible in charge.”
Liam didn’t want to know where this conversation was going. It couldn’t be good. “Why are you telling me this? What does it have to do with Ron Wheeler?”
“Because I think you’re the right person to lead the family after I’m gone.”
“Don’t talk like that,” he insisted. They both knew she was too mean to die. “You have plenty of years ahead of you.”
Her sharp blue gaze focused on him, an unexpected hint of emotion flashing in them for a fleeting second before she waved away his statement. “Everyone dies, Liam. It’s better to be prepared for the eventuality. I want you to take my place and be family patriarch. As such, you would inherit everything of mine and serve as executor of the family trusts.”
The blood drained from Liam’s face. He didn’t want that kind of responsibility. Two billion dollars and a family full of greedy suck-ups chasing him around? “I don’t want your money, Aunt Beatrice. You know that.”
“Exactly. But I know what you do want. You want ANS. And as long as I have my shares, you won’t truly have it. I could sell at any time to Ron Wheeler or anyone else who gives me a good offer.”
Liam took a big swallow of wine to calm his nerves. Aunt Beatrice had never held anything over him. She couldn’t because until now he hadn’t needed her or her money and she knew it. But he’d made a critical error. He never should’ve agreed to this stock arrangement with her. He’d given her the leverage to twist him any way she wanted to. “Why would you do that? I told you I would buy that stock from you at what you paid or the going rate, if it goes higher.”
“Because I want you to settle down. I can’t have you leading this family while you play newsman and chase skirts around D.C. I want you married. Stable. Ready to lead the Crowe family.”
“I’m only twenty-eight.”
“The perfect age. Your father married when he was twenty-eight, as did your grandfather. You’re out of school, well established. You’ll be a prize to whatever lucky woman you choose.”
“Aunt Beatrice, I’m not ready to——”
“You will marry within the year,” she said, her serious tone like a royal decree he didn’t dare contradict. “On your one-year wedding anniversary, as a gift I will give you my shares of ANS stock and name you my sole beneficiary. Then you can truly breathe easy knowing your network is secure, and I can know this family will be cared for when I’m gone.”
She couldn’t be serious. “You can’t force me to marry.”
“You’re right. You’re a grown man and you make your own decisions. So the choice is entirely yours. Either you marry and get the company you want and more money than most people dream of…or you don’t and I sell my shares to Ron Wheeler. Tough choice, I understand.” At that, she returned to her soup as though they’d been discussing the weather.
Liam didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to anyone else calling the shots in his life. But he’d given himself a vulnerability she had been waiting to exploit. She’d probably planned this from the very moment he’d come to her about buying ANS. Liam leaned his head into his hand and closed his eyes.
“If you don’t know any suitable ladies, I can make a few recommendations.”
He was sure she’d just love that, too. Thankfully she’d stopped short of deciding who he should marry. “I think I can handle that part, thank you. I’ve been seeing someone,” he said quickly, hoping she didn’t ask for more details about the fictional woman.
Aunt Beatrice shrugged off the bitter tone in his voice. “Then it’s time the two of you got more serious. Just remember, you have a year from today to marry. But if I were you, I wouldn’t dawdle. The sooner you get married, the sooner ANS will be yours.”
Francesca had deliberately avoided Liam since they’d returned to D.C., but she couldn’t put off speaking to him any longer. She needed to know if they were going to be sponsoring the Youth in Crisis gala or not. It was a week and a half away. It was already too late to pull out, really, but if he was going to insist they couldn’t do it, she needed to know now.
She waved as she passed his assistant’s desk. “Afternoon, Jessica.”
The woman looked up at her with a wary expression. “You don’t want to go in there.”
Francesca frowned. Did she mean her specifically, or anyone? Liam couldn’t still be mad about the whole elevator thing. Could he? “Why?”
“He’s been in a foul mood since we left New York. I’m not sure what happened. Something with his family, I think.”
“Is everyone okay?”
Jessica nodded her head. “He hasn’t had me send flowers to anyone, so I would assume so. But he’s not taking calls. He’s been sitting at his desk all morning flipping through his address book and muttering to himself.”
Interesting. “Well, I hate to do it, but I have to speak with him.”
“As you wish.” Jessica pressed the intercom button that linked to Liam’s phone. “Mr. Crowe, Ms. Orr is here to see you.”
“Not now,” his voice barked over the line. Then, after a brief pause, he said, “Never mind. Send her in.”
Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know what that’s all about, but go on in.”
Francesca gripped the handle to his office door and took a deep breath before going inside. She’d dressed in her most impressive power suit today and felt confident she would leave his office with what she wanted. The emerald-green pantsuit was striking and well-tailored. Her black hair was twisted up into a bun, and she had a silk scarf tied around her neck. Not only did she feel good in the outfit, she felt well-covered. Liam had already seen too much of her body. She intended to keep every inch out of his sight from now on.
As she opened the door, she saw Liam sitting at his desk just as Jessica had described. He was flipping through an address book, making notes on his desk blotter. As she came in he looked up and then slammed the book shut.
“Good morning, Ms. Orr.” His voice was a great deal more formal and polite than it was the last time they’d spoken. Of course, then they’d been recently naked together.
“Mr. Crowe. I wanted to speak to you about the Youth in Crisis gala. We don’t have much time to—”
“Have a seat, Francesca.”
She stopped short, surprised at his interruption. Unsure of what else to do, she moved to take a seat in the guest chair across from his desk. Before she could sit, he leaped up and pointed to the less formal sitting area on the other side of his office.
“Over here, please. I don’t like talking to people across the desk. It feels weird.”
Francesca corrected her course to sit in the plush gray leather chair he’d indicated. She watched him warily as he went to the small refrigerator built into the cabinets beside his desk.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I don’t drink at work.”
Liam turned to her with a frown and a bottle of root beer in his hand. “At all? I have bottled water, root beer—my personal favorite—and some lemon-lime soda. I don’t drink at work, either, despite the fact that if anyone wanted to be in a drunken stupor right now, it would be me.” He pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and handed it to her. “To replace the one we…used up in the elevator.”
Francesca started to reach for the bottle, then froze at the memory of water pouring over his head and onto her own bare chest. Damn, he’d said that on purpose to throw her off her game. Pulling herself together, she took the bottle and set it on the coffee table unopened.
Liam joined her, sitting on the nearby sofa with his bottle of root beer. “I have a proposition for you.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. “I told you that I wasn’t interested in dinner.”
Liam watched her intently with his jewel-blue eyes as he sipped his drink. “I’m not asking you to dinner. I’m asking you to marry me.”
Francesca was glad she hadn’t opted to drink that water or she would’ve spit it across the room. She sat bolt upright in her seat and glared at him. “Marry you? Are you crazy?”
“Shhh…” he said, placing his drink on the table. “I don’t want anyone to hear our discussion. This is very important. And I’m dead serious. I want you to be my fiancée. At least for a few months.”
“Why me? What is going on?”
Liam sighed. “I’ve put myself in a vulnerable position with the company. I couldn’t afford all of Graham Boyle’s stock, so my aunt owns the largest share of ANS, not me. She’s threatening to sell it to Ron Wheeler if I don’t get married within a year.”
Ron Wheeler. That was a name that could send chunks of ice running through her veins. Charity didn’t help the bottom line in his eyes. Francesca, her staff and the entire department would be out the door before the ink was dry on the sale. And they would just be the first, not the last to go if he were in charge. “Why would she do that?”
“She wants me married and settled down. She wants me to be the strong family patriarch when she’s gone and doesn’t believe my playboy ways are appropriate. I think she’s bluffing, really. I’m hoping that if I get engaged, that will be enough to soothe her. In the meantime, I’m going to work with my accountant and financial advisor to see if I can arrange for a line of credit large enough to buy her out. I have no expectation that we’ll actually have to get married.”
“I should hope not,” she snapped. Francesca had some very strong ideas about what a good marriage was made of and blackmail was not the ideal start. “Don’t you have anyone else you can ask? You’ve known me less than a week.”
Liam looked over to the book on his desk and shook his head. “I’ve gone through every woman’s name in my address book and there’s not a single suitable candidate. All those women would look at this as a romantic opportunity, not a business arrangement. That’s why you’re my ideal choice.”
A business arrangement? That’s just what a girl wanted to hear. “So if this is just a business arrangement, that means you have no intention of trying to get me into bed, right?”
Liam leaned closer to her and a wicked grin spread across his face. “I didn’t say that, but really, that’s not my first priority here. I’m asking you for several reasons. First, I like you. Spending time with you shouldn’t be a hardship. My aunt will expect the relationship to appear authentic and she’ll sniff out the truth if she thinks we’re faking it. After our time in the elevator, I think you and I have enough chemistry to make it realistic. And second, I know I can count on you because you want something from me.”
Francesca opened her mouth to argue with him and then stopped. She knew exactly where this was going. Tit for tat. “The Youth in Crisis gala?”
He nodded. “If Ron Wheeler gets a hold of this company, everything you’ve worked for will be destroyed. The only thing I can do to protect this company and its employees is to get engaged as soon as I can. For your assistance, I’m offering the full financial support of ANS for the Youth in Crisis charity ball. I’ll even pledge to top the highest private donation with my own money. I look at it as an investment in the future of the network. And all you have to do is wear a beautiful diamond ring and tolerate my company until my aunt backs down.”
It felt like a deal with the devil and there had to be a catch. “You said it had to appear authentic. Define authentic.”
Liam sat back in his seat and crossed his leg over his knee. “No one is going to follow us into the bedroom, Francesca, and I won’t make you do anything that you don’t want to do. But everything we can do to convince people we are a couple in love would be helpful.”
She shook her head and looked down at her lap. This was all so sudden. The idea of being Liam’s fiancée, even if just temporarily, wasn’t so bad. She’d be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t thought about their time in the elevator as she lay alone in bed each night. But his fiancée? Publicly? What would she tell her family? She couldn’t tell them the truth. And her friends? She would have to lie to everyone she knew.
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Andrea Laurence
Media mogul Liam Crowe can’t control the chemistry with spitfire employee Francesca Orr.First she’s calling him names in the boardroom; next, she’s kissing him! Now Liam has a name for her: fiancée, because Francesca is perfect fake fiancée material! But when she goes along with the plan, things get very real very fast…
“It takes everything I’ve got not to touch you when I see you sitting there like that.”
There was a long silence, and then her voice again. “Why don’t you?”
Liam’s jaw was flexed tight, his whole body tense, as he tried to hold back the desire for her that was building inside. “I didn’t think it was a good idea. I’m your boss. We have to work together. Things would get weird. Wouldn’t they?”
Please let her say no.
“I don’t think so,” she said, slowly climbing to her knees. “We’re both adults. We know what this is and what it means.” She crawled leisurely across the elevator floor, stopping in front of him. Her hands went to his belt buckle as she looked up at him through her thick, coal-black lashes. “What happens in the elevator stays in the elevator, right?”
About the Author
ANDREA LAURENCE has been a lover of reading and writing stories since she learned her ABCs. She always dreamed of seeing her work in print and is thrilled to finally be able to share her books with the world. A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted to the Deep South, she’s working on her own “happily ever after” with her boyfriend and their collection of animals that shed like nobody’s business. You can contact Andrea at her website, www.andrealaurence.com.
A Very Exclusive Engagement
Andrea Laurence
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my series mates—
Barbara, Michelle, Robyn, Rachel and Jennifer
It was a pleasure working with each of you.
Thanks for welcoming a newbie to the club.
And our editor, Charles
Sei fantastico. È stato bello lavorare con voi. Grazie per il cioccolato le sardine.
One
Figliodi un allevatore di maiali.
Liam Crowe didn’t speak Italian. The new owner of the American News Service network could barely order Italian food, and he was pretty sure his Executive Vice President of Community Outreach knew it.
Francesca Orr had muttered the words under her breath during today’s emergency board meeting. He’d written down what she’d said—or at least a close enough approximation–in his notebook so he could look it up later. The words had fallen from her dark red lips in such a seductive way. Italian was a powerful language. You could order cheese and it would sound like a sincere declaration of love. Especially when spoken by the dark, exotic beauty who’d sat across the table from him.
And yet, he had the distinct impression that he wasn’t going to like what she’d said to him.
He hadn’t expected taking over the company from Graham Boyle to be a cakewalk. The former owner and several employees were in jail following a phonehacking scandal that had targeted the president of the United States. The first item on the agenda for the board meeting had been to suspend ANS reporter Angelica Pierce for suspicion of misconduct. Hayden Black was continuing his congressional investigation into the role Angelica may have played in the affair. Right now, they had enough cause for the suspension. When Black completed his investigation—and hopefully uncovered some hard evidence—Liam and his Board of Directors would determine what additional action to take.
He was walking into a corporate and political maelstrom, but that was the only reason he had been able to afford to buy controlling stock in the company in the first place. ANS was the crown jewel of broadcast media. The prize he’d always had his eye on. The backlash of the hacking scandal had brought the network and its owner, Graham Boyle, to their knees. Even with Graham behind bars and the network coming in last in the ratings for most time slots, Liam knew he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to buy ANS.
So, they had a major scandal to overcome. A reputation to rebuild. Nothing in life was easy, and Liam liked a challenge. But he’d certainly hoped that the employees of ANS, and especially his own Board of Directors, would be supportive. From the night janitor to the CFO, jobs were on the line. Most of the people he spoke to were excited about him coming aboard and hopeful they could put the hacking scandal behind them to rebuild the network.
But not Francesca. It didn’t make any sense. Sure, she had a rich and famous movie producer father to support her if she lost her position with ANS, but charity was her job. Surely she cared about the employees of the company as much as she cared about starving orphans and cancer patients.
It didn’t seem like it, though. Francesca had sat at the conference room table in her formfitting flame-red suit and lit into him like she was the devil incarnate. Liam had been warned that she was a passionate and stubborn woman—that it wouldn’t be personal if they bumped heads—but he wasn’t prepared for this. The mere mention of streamlining the corporate budget to help absorb the losses had sent her on a tirade. But they simply couldn’t throw millions at charitable causes when they were in such a tight financial position.
Suffice it to say, she disagreed.
With a sigh, Liam closed the lid on his briefcase and headed out of the executive conference room to find some lunch on his own. He’d planned to take some of the board members out, but everyone had scattered after the awkward meeting came to an end. He didn’t blame them. Liam had managed to keep control of it, making sure they covered everything on the agenda, but it was a painful process.
Oddly enough, the only thing that had made it remotely tolerable for him was watching Francesca herself. In a room filled with older businesswomen and men in gray, black and navy suits, Francesca was the pop of color and life. Even when she wasn’t speaking, his gaze kept straying back to her.
Her hair was ebony, flowing over her shoulders and curling down her back. Her almond-shaped eyes were dark brown with thick, black lashes. They were intriguing, even when narrowed at him in irritation. When she argued with him, color rushed to her face, giving her flawless tan skin a rosy undertone that seemed all the brighter for her fire-engine red suit and lipstick.
Liam typically had a thing for fiery, exotic women. He’d had his share of blond-haired, blue-eyed debutantes in private school but when he’d gone off to college, he found he had a taste for women a little bit spicier. Francesca, if she hadn’t been trying to ruin his day and potentially his year, would’ve been just the kind of woman he’d ask out. But complicating this scenario with a fling gone wrong was something he didn’t need.
Right now, what he did need was a stiff drink and some red meat from his favorite restaurant. He was glad ANS’s corporate headquarters were in New York. While he loved his place in D.C., he liked coming back to his hometown. The best restaurants in the world, luxury box seats for his favorite baseball team…the vibe of Manhattan was just so different.
He’d be up here from time to time on business. Really, he wished it was all the time, but if he wanted to be in the thick of politics, which was ANS’s focus, Washington was where he had to be. So he’d set up his main office in the D.C. newsroom, as Boyle had, keeping both his apartment in New York and the town house in Georgetown that he’d bought while he went to college there. It was the best of both worlds as far as he was concerned.
Liam went to his office before he left for lunch. He put his suitcase on the table and copied Francesca’s words from his notebook onto a sticky note. He carried it with him, stopping at his assistant’s desk on his way out.
“Jessica, it’s finally over. Mrs. Banks will be bringing you the paperwork to process Ms. Pierce’s suspension. Human Resources needs to get that handled right way. Now that that mess is behind me, I think I’m going to find some lunch.” He handed her the note with the Italian phrase written on it. “Could you get this translated for me while I’m gone? It’s Italian.”
Jessica smiled and nodded as though it wasn’t an unusual request. She’d apparently done this in the past as Graham Boyle’s assistant. “I’ll take care of it, sir. I have the website bookmarked.” Glancing down at the yellow paper she shook her head. “I see Ms. Orr has given you a special welcome to the company. This is one I haven’t seen before.”
“Should I feel honored?”
“I don’t know yet, sir. I’ll tell you once I look it up.”
Liam chuckled, turning to leave, then stopping. “Out of curiosity,” he asked, “what did she call Graham?”
“Her favorite was stronzo.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It has several translations, none of which I’m really comfortable saying out loud.” Instead, she wrote them on the back of the note he’d handed her.
“Wow,” he said, reading as she wrote. “Certainly not a pet name, then. I’m going to have to deal with Ms. Orr before this gets out of control.”
A blur of red blew past him and he looked up to see Francesca heading for the elevators in a rush. “Here’s my chance.”
“Good luck, sir,” he heard Jessica call to him as he trotted to the bank of elevators.
One of the doors had just opened and he watched Francesca step inside and turn to face him. She could see him coming. Their eyes met for a moment and then she reached to the panel to hit the button. To close the doors faster.
Nice.
He thrust his arm between the silver sliding panels and they reopened to allow him to join her. Francesca seemed less than pleased with the invasion. She eyeballed him for a moment under her dark lashes and then wrinkled her delicate nose as though he smelled of rotten fish. As the doors began to close again, she scooted into the far corner of the elevator even though they were alone in the car.
“We need to talk,” Liam said as the car started moving down.
Francesca’s eyes widened and her red lips tightened into a straight, hard line. “About what?” she asked innocently.
“About your attitude. I understand you’re passionate about your work. But whether you like it or not, I’m in control of this company and I’m going to do whatever I have to do to save it from the mess that’s been made of it. I’ll not have you making a fool out of me in front of—”
Liam’s words were cut off as the elevator lurched to a stop and the lights went out, blanketing them in total darkness.
This couldn’t really be happening. She was not trapped in a broken elevator with Liam Crowe. Stubborn and ridiculously handsome Liam Crowe. But she should’ve known something bad was going to happen. There had been thirteen people sitting at the table during the board meeting. That was an omen of bad luck.
Nervously, she clutched at the gold Italian horn pendant around her neck and muttered a silent plea for good fortune. “What just happened?” she asked, her voice sounding smaller than she’d like, considering the blackout had interrupted a tongue lashing from her new boss.
“I don’t know.” They stood in the dark for a moment before the emergency lighting system kicked on and bathed them in red light. Liam walked over to the control panel and pulled out the phone that connected to the engineering room. Without saying anything, he hung it back up. Next, he hit the emergency button, but nothing happened; the entire panel was dark and unresponsive.
“Well?” Francesca asked.
“I think the power has gone out. The emergency phone is dead.” He pulled his cell phone out and eyed the screen. “Do you have service on your phone? I don’t.”
She fished in her purse and retrieved her phone, shaking her head as she looked at the screen. There were no bars or internet connectivity. She never got good service in elevators, anyway. “Nothing.”
“Damn it,” Liam swore, putting his phone away. “I can’t believe this.”
“So what do we do now?”
Liam flopped back against the wall with a dull thud. “We wait. If the power outage is widespread, there’s nothing anyone can do.”
“So we just sit here?”
“Do you have a better suggestion? You were full of them this morning.”
Francesca ignored his pointed words, crossed her arms defensively and turned away from him. She eyed the escape hatch in the ceiling. They could try to crawl out through there, but how high were they? They had started on the fifty-second floor and hadn’t gone very far when the elevator stopped. They might be in between floors. Or the power could come back on while they were in the elevator shaft and they might get hurt. It probably was a better idea to sit it out.
The power would come back on at any moment. Hopefully.
“It’s better to wait,” she agreed reluctantly.
“I didn’t think it was possible for us to agree on anything after the board meeting and that fit you threw.”
Francesca turned on her heel to face him. “I did not throw a fit. I just wasn’t docile enough to sit back like the others and let you make bad choices for the company. They’re too scared to rock the boat.”
“They’re scared that the company can’t bounce back from the scandal. And they didn’t say anything because they know I’m right. We have to be fiscally responsible if we’re going to—”
“Fiscally responsible? What about socially responsible? ANS has sponsored the Youth in Crisis charity gala for the past seven years. We can’t just decide not to do it this year. It’s only two weeks away. They count on that money to provide programs for at-risk teens. Those activities keep kids off the streets and involved in sports and create educational opportunities they wouldn’t get without our money.”
Liam frowned at her. She could see the firm set of his jaw even bathed in the dim red light. “You think I don’t care about disadvantaged children?”
Francesca shrugged. “I don’t know you well enough to say.”
“Well, I do care,” he snapped. “I personally attended the ball for the past two years and wrote a big fat check at both of them. But that’s not the point. The point is we need to cut back on expenses to keep the company afloat until we can rebuild our image.”
“No. You’ve got it backward,” she insisted. “You need the charity events to rebuild your image so the company can stay afloat. What looks better in the midst of scandal than a company doing good deeds? It says to the public that some bad people did some bad things here, but the rest of us are committed to making things right. The advertisers will come flocking back.”
Liam watched her for a moment, and she imagined the wheels turning in his head as he thought through her logic. “Your argument would’ve been a lot more effective if you hadn’t shrieked and called me names in Italian.”
Francesca frowned. She hadn’t meant to lose her cool, but she couldn’t help it. She had her mother’s quick Italian tongue and her father’s short fuse. It made for an explosive combination. “I have a bit of a temper,” she said. “I get it from my father.”
Anyone who had worked on the set of a Victor Orr film knew what could happen when things weren’t going right. The large Irishman had a head of thick, black hair and a temper just as dark. He’d blow at a moment’s notice and nothing short of her mother’s soothing hand could calm him down. Francesca was just the same.
“Does he curse in Italian, too?”
“No, he doesn’t speak a word of it and my mother likes it that way. My mother grew up in Sicily and met my father there when he was shooting a film. My mother’s Italian heritage was always very important to her, so when I got older I spent summers there with my nonna.”
“Nonna?”
“My maternal grandmother. I picked up a lot of Italian while I was there, including some key phrases I probably shouldn’t know. I realized as a teenager that I could curse in Italian and my father wouldn’t know what I was saying because he’s Irish. From there it became a bad habit of mine. I’m sorry I yelled,” she added. “I just care too much. I always have.”
Francesca might take after her mother in most things, but her father had made his mark, as well. Victor Orr had come from poor beginnings and raised his two daughters not only to be grateful for what they had, but also to give to the less fortunate. All through high school, Francesca had volunteered at a soup kitchen on Saturdays. She’d organized charity canned food collections and blood drives at school. After college, her father helped her get an entry level job at ANS, where he was the largest minority stockholder. It hadn’t taken long for her to work her way up to the head of community outreach. And she’d been good at it. Graham had never had room to complain about her doing anything less than a stellar job.
But it always came down to money. When things got tight, her budget was always the first to get cut. Why not eliminate some of the cushy corporate perks? Maybe slash the travel budget and force people to hold more teleconferences? Or cut back on the half gallon of hair gel the head anchor used each night for the evening news broadcast?
“I don’t want to hack up your department,” Liam said. “What you do is important for ANS and for the community. But I need a little give and take here. Everyone needs to tighten their belts. Not just you. But I need you to play along, too. It’s hard enough to come into the leadership position of a company that’s doing well, much less one like ANS. I’m going to do everything I can to get this network back on top, but I need everyone’s support.”
Francesca could hear the sincerity in his words. He did care about the company and its employees. They just didn’t see eye to eye quite yet on what to do about it. She could convince him to see things her way eventually. She just had to take a page from her mother’s playbook. It would take time and perhaps a softer hand than she had used with Graham. At least Liam seemed reasonable about it. That won him some points in her book. “Okay.”
Liam looked at her for a moment, surveying her face as though he almost didn’t believe his ears. Then he nodded. They stood silently in the elevator for a moment before Liam started shrugging out of his black suit coat. He tossed the expensive jacket to the ground and followed it with his silk tie. He unbuttoned his collar and took a deep breath, as if he had been unable to do it until then. “I’m glad we’ve called a truce because it’s gotten too warm in here for me to fight anymore. Of course this had to happen on one of the hottest days of the year.”
He was right. The air conditioning was off and it was in the high nineties today, which was unheard of in early May. The longer they sat in the elevator without air, the higher the temperature climbed.
Following his example, Francesca slipped out of her blazer, leaving her in a black silk and lace camisole and pencil skirt. Thank goodness she’d opted out of stockings today.
Kicking off her heels, she spread out her coat on the floor and sat down on it. She couldn’t stand there in those pointy-toed stilettos any longer, and she’d given up hope for any immediate rescue. If they were going to be trapped in here for a while, she was going to be comfortable.
“I wish this had happened after lunch. Those bagels in the conference room burned off a long time ago.”
Francesca knew exactly what he meant. She hadn’t eaten since this morning. She’d had a cappuccino and a sweet cornetto before she’d left her hotel room, neither of which lasted very long. She typically ate a late lunch, so luckily she carried a few snacks in her purse.
Using the light of her phone, she started digging around in her bag. She found a granola bar, a pack of Gocciole Italian breakfast cookies and a bottle of water. “I have a few snacks with me. The question is whether we eat them now and hope we get let out soon, or whether we save them. It could be hours if it’s a major blackout.”
Liam slipped down to the floor across from her. “Now. Definitely now.”
“You wouldn’t last ten minutes on one of those survival reality shows.”
“That’s why I produce them and don’t star in them. My idea of roughing it is having to eat in Times Square with the tourists. What do you have?”
“A peanut butter granola bar and some little Italian cookies. We can share the water.”
“Which is your favorite?”
“I like the cookies. They’re the kind my grandmother would feed me for breakfast when I stayed with her. They don’t eat eggs or meat for breakfast like Americans do. It was one of the best parts of visiting her—cake and cookies for breakfast.”
Liam grinned, and Francesca realized it was the first time she’d seen him smile. It was a shame. He had a beautiful smile that lit up his whole face. It seemed more natural than the serious expression he’d worn all day, as though he were normally a more carefree and relaxed kind of guy. The pressure of buying ANS must have been getting to him. He’d been all business this morning and her behavior certainly didn’t help.
Now he was stressed out, hungry and irritated about being trapped in the elevator. She was glad she could make him smile, even if just for a moment. It made up for her behavior this morning. Maybe. She made a mental note to try to be more cordial in the future. He was being reasonable and there was no point in making things harder than they had to be.
“Cake for breakfast sounds awesome. As do summers in Italy. After high school I got to spend a week in Rome, but that’s it. I didn’t get around to seeing much more than the big sites like the Colosseum and the Parthenon.” He looked down at the two packages in her hand. “I’ll take the granola bar since you prefer the cookies. Thank you for sharing.”
Francesca shrugged. “It’s better than listening to your stomach growl for an hour.” She tossed him the granola bar and opened the bottle of water to take a conservative sip.
Liam ripped into the packaging. His snack was gone before Francesca had even gotten the first cookie in her mouth. She chuckled as she ate a few, noting him eyeing her like a hungry tiger. Popping another into her mouth, she gently slung the open bag to him. “Here,” she said. “I can’t take you watching me like that.”
“Are you sure?” he said, eyeing the cookies that were now in his hand.
“Yes. But when we get out of this elevator, you owe me.”
“Agreed,” he said, shoveling the first of several cookies into his mouth.
Francesca imagined it took a lot of food to keep a man Liam’s size satisfied. He was big like her nonno had been. Her grandfather had died when she was only a few years old, but her nonna had told her about how much she had to cook for him after he worked a long shift. Like Nonno, Liam was more than six feet tall, solidly built but on the leaner side, as though he were a runner. A lot of people jogged around the National Mall in D.C. Or so she’d heard. She could imagine him down there with the others. Jogging shorts. No shirt. Sweat running down the hard muscles of his chest. It made her think maybe she should go down there every now and then, if just for the view.
She, however, didn’t like to sweat. Running during the humid summers in Virginia was out of the question. As was running during the frigid, icy winters. So she just didn’t. She watched what she ate, indulged when she really wanted to and walked as much as her heels would allow. That kept her at a trim but curvy weight that pleased her.
Speaking of sweating…she could feel the beads of sweat in her hairline, ready and waiting to start racing down the back of her neck. She already felt sticky, but there wasn’t much else to take off unless she planned to get far closer to Liam than she ever intended.
Although that wouldn’t be all bad.
It had been a while since Francesca had dated anyone. Her career had kept her busy, but she always kept her eyes open to the possibilities. Nothing of substance had popped up in a long time. But recently all of her friends seemed to be settling down. One by one, and she worried she might be the last.
Not that Liam Crowe was settling-down material. He was just sexy, fling material. she typically didn’t indulge in pleasure without potential. But seeing those broad shoulders pulling against the confines of his shirt, she realized that he might be just what she needed. Something to release the pressure and give her the strength to hold out for “the one.”
Francesca reached into her bag and pulled out a hair clip. She gathered up the thick, dark strands of her hair and twisted them up, securing them with the claw. It helped but only for a moment. Her tight-fitting pencil skirt was like a heavy, wet blanket thrown over her legs. And her camisole, while seemingly flimsy, was starting to get damp and cling to her skin.
If they didn’t get out of this elevator soon, something had to come off. Taking another sip of water, she leaned her head back against the wall and counted herself lucky that if nothing else, she’d worn pretty, matching underwear today. She had the feeling that Liam would appreciate that.
Two
“Sweet mercy, it’s hot!” Liam exclaimed, standing up. He felt as if he was being smothered by his crisp, starched dress shirt. He unfastened the buttons down the front and whipped it off with a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I’ve got to do it.”
Francesca was sitting quietly in the corner and barely acknowledged him, although he did catch her opening her eyes slightly to catch a glimpse of him without his shirt on. She looked away a moment later, but it was enough to let him know she was curious. That was interesting.
He’d gotten a different insight into his feisty executive vice president of Community Outreach in the past two hours. He had a better understanding of her and what was important to her. Hopefully once they got out of this elevator they could work together without the animosity. And maybe they could be a little more than friendly. Once she had stopped yelling, he liked her. More than he probably should, considering that she worked for him.
“Francesca, take off some of your clothes. I know you’re dying over there.”
She shook her head adamantly, although he could see the beads of sweat running down her chest and into the valley between her breasts. “No, I’m fine.”
“The hell you are. You’re just as miserable as I am. That tank you’re wearing looks like it will cover up enough to protect your honor. The skirt looks terribly clingy. Take it off. Really. I’m about ten minutes from losing these pants, so you might as well give up on any modesty left between us.”
Francesca looked up at him with wide eyes. “Your pants?” she said, swallowing hard. Her gaze drifted down his bare chest to his belt and then lower.
“Yes. It’s gotta be ninety-five degrees and climbing in this oven they call an elevator. You don’t have to look at me, but I’ve got to do it. You might as well do it, too.”
With a sigh of resignation, Francesca got up from the floor and started fussing with the latch on the back of her skirt. “I can’t get the clasp. It snags sometimes.”
“Let me help,” Liam offered. She turned her back to him and he crouched down behind her to get a better look at the clasp in the dim red light. This close to her, he could smell the scent of her warm skin mixed with the soft fragrance of roses. It wasn’t overpowering—more like strolling through a rose garden on a summer day. He inhaled it into his lungs and held it there for a moment. It was intoxicating.
He grasped the two sides of the clasp, ignoring the buzz of awareness that shot through his fingertips as he brushed her bare skin beneath it. With a couple of firm twists and pulls, it came apart. He gripped the zipper tab and pulled it down a few inches, revealing the back of the red satin panties she wore.
“Got it,” he said with clenched teeth, standing back up and moving away before he did something stupid like touch her any more than was necessary. It was one thing to sit in the elevator in his underwear. It was another thing entirely to do it when he had a raging erection. That would be a little hard to disguise.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes warily watching him as she returned to her corner of the elevator.
As she started to shimmy the skirt down her hips, Liam turned away, although it took every ounce of power he had to do so. She was everything he liked in a woman. Feisty. Exotic. Voluptuous. And underneath it all, a caring soul. She wasn’t one of those rich women that got involved in charity work because they had nothing better to do with their time. She really cared. And he appreciated that, even if it would cost him a few headaches in the future.
“Grazie, signore,” she said with a sigh. “That does feel better.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her settle back down on the floor. “Is it safe?” he asked.
“As safe as it’s going to get. Thank you for asking.”
Liam looked over at her. She had tugged down her camisole to cover most everything to the tops of her thighs, although now a hint of her red bra was peeking out from the top. There was only so much fabric to go around, and with her luscious curves, keeping them all covered would be a challenge.
“You might as well just take those pants off now.”
Liam chuckled and shook his head. Not after thinking about her satin-covered breasts. He didn’t even have to touch her to make that an impossibility. “That’s probably not the best idea at the moment.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why—” she started, then stopped. “Oh.”
Liam closed his eyes and tried to wish his arousal away, but all that did was bring images of those silky red panties to his mind. “That’s the challenge of being trapped in a small space with a beautiful, half-naked woman.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” her hesitant voice came after a long moment of silence between them.
He planted his hands on his hips. “I do.”
“I didn’t expect that.”
Liam turned to look at her. “Why on earth not? I think a man would have to be without a pulse to not find you desirable.”
“I grew up in Beverly Hills,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “I’m not saying I never dated in school—I did—but there was certainly a higher premium placed on the Malibu Barbie dolls.”
“The what?”
“You know, the blond, beach-tanned girls with belly button piercings and figures like twelve-year-old boys? At least until they turn eighteen and get enough money to buy a nice pair of breasts.”
“People in Hollywood are nuts,” he said. “There was nothing remotely erotic about me as a twelve-year-old. You, on the other hand…” Liam shook his head, the thoughts of her soft curves pressing against the palms of his hands making his skin tingle with anticipation. He forced them into tight fists and willed the feeling away. “It takes everything I’ve got not to touch you when I see you sitting there like that.”
There was a long silence, and then her voice again. “Why don’t you?”
Liam’s jaw was flexed tight, and his whole body tensed as he tried to hold back the desire that was building inside for her. “I didn’t think it was a good idea. I’m your boss. We have to work together. Things would get weird. Wouldn’t they?”
Please let her say no. Please let her say no.
“I don’t think so,” she said, slowly climbing to her knees. “We’re both adults. We know what this is and what it means.” She crawled leisurely across the elevator floor, stopping in front of him. Her hands went to his belt buckle as she looked up at him through her thick, coal-black lashes. “What happens in the elevator, stays in the elevator, right?”
Liam didn’t know what to say. He could barely form words as her hands undid his belt buckle, then the fly of his pants. But he didn’t stop her. Oh, no. He wanted her too badly to let good sense interfere. Besides, they had time to kill, right? Who knew how long they’d be trapped in here.
His suit pants slid to the floor and he quickly kicked out of them and his shoes. Crouching down until they were at the same level, he reached for the hem of her camisole and pulled it up over her head. Francesca undid the clip holding her hair and the heavy, ebony stands fell down around her shoulders like a sheet of black silk.
The sight of her body in nothing but her red undergarments was like a punch to his guts. She was one of the sexiest women he’d ever seen—and she was mostly naked, and on her knees, in front of him.
How the hell had he gotten this lucky today?
Unable to hold back any longer, he leaned in to kiss her. They collided, their lips and bare skin slamming into one another. Francesca wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her body against him. Her breasts pressed urgently against the hard wall of his chest. Her belly arched into the aching heat of his desire for her.
The contact was electric, the powerful sensations running through his nervous system like rockets, exploding at the base of his spine. He wanted to devour her, his tongue invading her mouth and demanding everything she could give him. She met his every thrust, running her own silken tongue along his and digging her nails frantically into his back.
Liam slipped his arm behind her back and slowly eased her down onto the floor. He quickly found his place between her thighs and dipped down to give attention to the breasts nearly spilling from her bra. It didn’t take much to slip the straps from her shoulders and tug the bra down to her waist. The palms of his hands quickly moved in to take its place. He teased her nipples into firm peaks before capturing one in his mouth.
Francesca groaned and arched into him, her fingertips weaving into his thick, wavy brown hair. She tugged him back up to her mouth and kissed him again. There were no more thoughts of heat or sweat or broken elevators as he lost himself in the pleasurable exploration of her body.
And when he felt her fingers slide down his stomach, slip beneath the waistband of his underwear and wrap around the pulsating length of his erection, for a moment he almost forgot where he was, entirely.
Thank heavens for power outages.
Francesca wasn’t quite sure what had come over her, but she was enjoying every minute of this naughty indulgence. Perhaps being trapped in this hot jail cell was playing with her brain, but she didn’t care. There was just something about Liam. Sure, he was handsome and rich, but she’d seen her share of that kind of man in Washington, D.C. There was something about his intensity, the way he was handling the company and even how he handled her. She’d been fighting the attraction to him since she first laid eyes on him, and then his shirt came off to reveal a wide chest, chiseled abs and a sprinkle of chest hair, and she lost all her reasons to resist.
When he told her that she was beautiful, a part of her deep inside urged her to jump on the unexpected opportunity. To give in to the attraction, however inappropriate, and make a sexy memory out of this crazy afternoon.
She still wanted a solid, lasting relationship like her parents had. They’d been happily married for thirty years in a town where the typical wedding reception lasted longer than the vows. But having a fun fling in an elevator was in a totally different category. Liam would never be the serious kind of relationship, and she knew it, so it didn’t hurt. This was a release. An amusing way to pass the time until the power was restored.
Francesca tightened her grip on Liam until he groaned her name into her ear.
“I want you so badly,” he whispered. He moved his hand along the curve of her waist, gliding down to her hip, where he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away. “You keep doing that and I won’t have the chance to do everything I want to do to you.”
A wicked idea crossed her mind. Francesca reached out with her other hand for the half-empty bottle of water beside them. “Let me cool you off then,” she said, dumping the remains over the top of his head. The cool water soaked his hair and rushed down his face and neck to rain onto her bare skin. It was refreshing and playful, the cool water drawing goose bumps along her bare flesh.
“Man, that felt good,” Liam said, running one hand through his wet hair as he propped himself up with the other. “I don’t want to waste it, though.” He dipped down to lick the droplets of water off her chest, flicking his tongue over her nipples again. He traveled down her stomach to where some of the water had pooled in her navel. He lapped it up with enthusiasm, making her squirm beneath him as her core tightened and throbbed in anticipation.
His fingertips sought out the satin edge of her panties and slipped beneath them. Sliding over her neatly cropped curls, one finger parted her most sensitive spot and stroked her gently. She couldn’t contain the moan of pleasure he coaxed out of her. When he dipped farther to slip the finger deep inside her body, she almost came undone right then. The muscles tightened around him, the sensations of each stroke building a tidal wave that she couldn’t hold back for much longer.
“Liam,” she whispered, but he didn’t stop. His fingers moved more frantically over her, delving inside and pushing her over the edge.
Francesca cried out, her moans of pleasure bouncing off the walls of the small elevator and doubling in volume and intensity. Her hips bucked against his hand, her whole body shuddering with the feeling running through her.
She had barely caught her breath when suddenly there was a jarring rattle. The silence was broken by the roar of engines and air units firing up, and the lights came back on in the elevator.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he groaned.
And then, with Liam still between her thighs and their clothes scattered around the elevator, the car started moving downward. Francesca threw a quick glance to the screen on the wall. They were on the thirty-third floor and falling. “Oh, no,” she said, pushing frantically at his chest until he eased back.
She climbed to her feet, tugging on her skirt and yanking her bra back into place. She didn’t bother tucking in her camisole, but shrugged into her jacket. Liam followed suit, pulling on his pants and shirt. He shoved his tie into his pants pocket and threw his coat over his arm.
“You have my lipstick all over you,” she said, noting less than ten floors to go. Liam ran his hand through his still wet hair and casually rubbed at his face, seeming to be less concerned than she was with how he looked when they walked out.
By the time the elevator came to the first floor and the doors opened, Francesca and Liam were both fully dressed. A bit sloppy, with misaligned buttons and rumpled jackets, but dressed.
They stepped out into the grand foyer where the building engineers and security guards were waiting for them. “Are you two—” one of the men started to speak, pausing when he saw their tousled condition “—okay?”
Liam looked at Francesca, and she could feel her cheeks lighting up crimson with embarrassment. He still had some of her Sizzling Hot Red lipstick on his face, but he didn’t seem to care. “We’re fine,” he said. “Just hot, hungry and glad to finally be out of there. What happened?”
“I’m not sure, sir. The whole island lost power. Wouldn’t you know it would be on such a hot day. Might’ve been everyone turning on their air conditioners for the first time today. Are you guys sure we can’t get you anything? Three hours in there had to be miserable.”
“I’m fine,” Francesca insisted. The engineer’s expression had been a wake-up call from the passionate haze she’d lost herself in. She’d very nearly slept with her boss. Her new boss. On his first day after they’d spent the morning fighting like cats and dogs. The heat must’ve made her delirious to have thought that was a good idea.
At least they’d been interrupted before it went too far. Now she just wanted to get a cab back to her hotel. Then she could change out of these clothes, shower and wash the scent of Liam off her skin. “Just have someone hail me a taxi to my hotel, would you?”
The engineer waved to one of the doormen. “Sure thing. It might take a minute because the traffic lights have been out and there’s been gridlock for hours.”
Without looking at Liam, Francesca started for the door, stepping outside to wait on the sidewalk for her car.
“Talk about bad timing,” Liam said over her shoulder after following her outside.
“Fate has a funny way of keeping you from doing things you shouldn’t do.”
Liam came up beside her, but she wouldn’t turn to look at him. She couldn’t. She’d just get weak in the knees and her resolve to leave would soften.
“I’d like to think of it more as a brief interruption. To build some anticipation for later. Where are you headed?”
“To where I was going before my whole day got sidetracked—back to my hotel. To shower and get some work done. Alone,” she added if that wasn’t clear enough.
“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”
“Yes, I do.” She didn’t. But going out to dinner with Liam would put her right back in the same tempting situation, although hopefully without power outages. She’d given in to temptation once and she’d been rescued from her bad decision. She wasn’t about to do it again.
Liam watched her for a minute. Francesca could feel his eyes scrutinizing her, but she kept her gaze focused on the passing cars. “You said things wouldn’t get weird. That we both knew what this was and what happened in the elevator stayed in the elevator.”
Francesca finally turned to him. She tried not to look into the sapphire-blue eyes that were watching her or the damp curls of his hair that would remind her of what they’d nearly done. “That’s right. And that’s where it will stay. That’s why I don’t want to go to dinner with you. Or to drinks. Or back to your place to pick up where we left off. We’ve left the elevator behind us and the opportunity has come and gone. Appreciate the moment for what it was.”
“What it was is unfinished,” he insisted. “I’d like to change that.”
“Not every project gets completed.” Francesca watched a taxi pull up to the curb. It was empty, thank goodness.
“Come on, Francesca. Let me take you to dinner tonight. Even if just to say thank-you for the granola bar. As friends. I owe you, remember?”
Francesca didn’t believe a word of that friend nonsense. They’d have a nice dinner with expensive wine someplace fancy and she’d be naked again before she knew it. As much as she liked Liam, she needed to stay objective where he was concerned. He was the new owner of ANS and she couldn’t let her head get clouded with unproductive thoughts about him. They’d come to a truce, but they hadn’t fully resolved their issues regarding her budget and the way forward for the network. She wouldn’t put it past an attractive, charming guy like Liam to use whatever tools he had in his arsenal to get his way.
She stepped to the curb as the doorman opened the back door of the taxi for her.
“Wait,” Liam called out, coming to her side again. “If you’re going to leave me high and dry, you can at least tell me what you called me today in the board meeting.”
Francesca smiled. If that didn’t send him packing, nothing else would. “Okay, fine,” she relented. She got into the cab and rolled down the window before Liam shut it. “I called you figlio di un allevatore di maiali. That means ‘the son of a pig farmer.’ It doesn’t quite pack the same punch in English.”
Liam frowned and stepped back from the window. The distance bothered her even though it was her own words that had driven him away. “I’d say it packs enough of a punch.”
She ignored the slightly offended tone of his voice. He wasn’t about to make her feel guilty. He’d deserved the title at the time. “Have a good evening, Mr. Crowe,” she said before the cab pulled away and she disappeared into traffic.
Three
Liam had just stepped from his shower when he heard his cell phone ringing. The tune, “God Save the Queen,” made him cringe. Had he told his great aunt Beatrice he was in Manhattan? She must’ve found out somehow.
He wrapped his towel around his waist and dashed into his bedroom where the phone was lying on the comforter. The words “Queen Bee” flashed on the screen with the photo of a tiara. His aunt Beatrice would not be amused if she knew what the rest of the family called her.
With a sigh, he picked up the phone and hit the answer key. “Hello?”
“Liam,” his aunt replied with her haughty Upper East Side accent. “Are you all right? I was told you were trapped in an elevator all afternoon.”
“I’m fine. Just hungry, but I’m about to—”
“Excellent,” she interrupted. “Then you’ll join me for dinner. There’s an important matter I need to discuss with you.”
Liam bit back a groan. He hated eating at Aunt Beatrice’s house. Mostly because of having to listen to her go on and on about the family and how irresponsible they all were. But even then, she liked them all more than Liam because they kissed her derrière. And that was smart. She was worth two billion dollars with no children of her own to inherit. Everyone was jockeying for their cut.
Everyone but Liam. He was polite and distant. He didn’t need her money. Or at least he hadn’t until the ANS deal came up and he didn’t have enough liquid assets to buy a majority stake quickly. Other people also were interested in the company, including leeches like Ron Wheeler, who specialized in hacking businesses to bits for profit. To move fast, Liam had had to swallow his pride and ask his Aunt to invest in the remaining shares of ANS that he couldn’t afford. Together, they had controlling interest of the company, and by designating her voting powers to him, Aunt Beatrice had put Liam in charge.
Liam had every intention of slowly buying her out over time, but he wouldn’t be able to do so for quite a while. So now, at long last, Aunt Beatrice had something to hold over his head. And when she snapped, for the first time in his life, he had to jump.
“Dinner is at six,” she said, either oblivious or unconcerned about his unhappy silence on the end of the line.
“Yes, Aunt Beatrice. I’ll see you at six.”
After he hung up the phone, he eyed the clock and realized he didn’t have long to get over to her Upper East Side mansion in rush hour traffic. He’d do better to walk, so he needed to get out the door soon.
It was just as well that Francesca had turned down his dinner date so he didn’t have to cancel. That would’ve pained him terribly, even after knowing what she’d called him.
“Son of a pig farmer,” he muttered to himself as he got dressed.
He opted for a gray suit with a pale purple dress shirt and no tie. He hated ties and only wore them when absolutely necessary. Today, he’d felt like he needed to look important and in control at the board meeting. He didn’t want the ANS directors to think they were in the hands of a laid-back dreamer. But as soon as he had a strong foothold in the company, the ties would be gone.
Tonight, he left it off simply because he knew to do so would aggravate Aunt Beatrice. She liked formal dress for dinner but had given up long ago on the family going to that much trouble. She did, however, still expect a jacket and tie for the men and a dress and hosiery for the ladies. It was only proper. Leaving off the tie would be a small but noted rebellion on his part. He didn’t want her to think she had him completely under her thumb.
It wasn’t until he rang the doorbell that he remembered her mentioning something about an important issue she wanted to discuss. He couldn’t imagine what it could be, but he sincerely hoped it didn’t involve him dating someone’s daughter. Aunt Beatrice was singleminded in her pursuit of marriage and family for Liam. He couldn’t fathom why she cared.
“Good evening, Mr. Crowe,” her ancient butler Henry said as he opened the door.
Henry had worked for his aunt Liam’s entire life and a good number of years before that. The man was in his seventies now but as spry and chipper as ever.
“Good evening, Henry. How is she tonight?” he asked, leaning in to the elderly man and lowering his voice.
“She’s had a bee in her bonnet about something all afternoon, sir. She made quite a few calls once the power was restored.”
Liam frowned. “Any idea what it’s about?”
“I don’t. But I would assume it involves you because you were the only one invited to dinner this evening.”
That was odd. Usually Aunt Beatrice invited at least two family members to dinner. She enjoyed watching them try to one-up each other all night and get in her good favor. It really was a ridiculous exercise, but it was amazing what the family would do just because she asked. His grandfather, Aunt Beatrice’s brother, had never had much to do with her, so neither did that branch of the family. It was only after all the others of the generation had died that she took over as matriarch. Then, even Liam’s part of the family was drawn back into the fold.
Liam held his tongue as Henry led him through the parlor and into the formal dining room. When a larger group was expected, Aunt Beatrice would greet her guests in the parlor and then adjourn to the dining room when everyone had arrived. Apparently because it was just him they bypassed the formalities and went straight to dinner.
Aunt Beatrice was there in her seat at the head of the long, oak table, looking regal as always. Her gray hair was curled perfectly, her rose chiffon dress nicely accented by the pink sapphire necklace and earrings she paired with it. she didn’t smile as he entered. Instead, she evaluated him from top to bottom, her lips tightening into a frown when she noted his lack of tie.
“Good evening, Aunt Beatrice,” he said with a wide smile to counter her grimace. He came around the table and placed a kiss on her cheek before sitting down at the place setting to her right.
“Liam,” she said, acknowledging him without any real warmth. That’s why he’d always thought of her as royalty. Stiff, formal, proper. He couldn’t imagine what she would have been like if she had married and had children. Children would require laughter and dirt—two things unthinkable in this household.
Henry poured them each a glass of wine and disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve their first course. Liam hated to see the old man wait on him. He should be in a recliner, watching television and enjoying his retirement, not serving meals to privileged people capable of doing it themselves. The man had never even married. He had no life of his own outside of this mansion.
“When are you going to let Henry retire?” he asked. “The poor man deserves some time off before he drops dead in your foyer.”
Aunt Beatrice bristled at the suggestion. “He loves it here. He wouldn’t think of leaving me. And besides, Henry would never die in the foyer. He knows how expensive that Oriental rug is.”
Liam sighed and let the subject drop. Henry placed bowls of soup in front of them both and disappeared again. “So, what have you summoned me here to discuss tonight?” He might as well just get it over with. There was no sense waiting for the chocolate soufflé or the cheese course.
“I received a phone call today from a man named Ron Wheeler.”
Liam stiffened in his seat and stopped his spoon of soup in midair. Ron Wheeler was in the business of buying struggling companies and “streamlining” them. That usually involved laying off at least half the employees and hacking up the benefits packages of the ones who were left. Then he’d break the company up into smaller pieces and sell them off for more than the price of the whole. No one liked to hear the mention of his name. “And what did he have to say?”
“He heard I’d bought a large portion of Graham Boyle’s ANS stock. He’s made me an extremely generous offer to buy it.”
At that, Liam dropped his spoon, sending splatters of butternut squash all across the pristine white tablecloth. Henry arrived in an instant to clean up the mess and bring him a new spoon, but Liam didn’t want it. He couldn’t stomach the idea of food at this point.
“Aunt Beatrice, your holding is larger than mine. If you sell him your stock, he’ll gain majority control of the company. The whole network will be at risk.”
She nodded, setting down her own spoon. “I realize that. And I know how important the company is to you. But I also want you to know how important this family is to me. I won’t be around forever, Liam. This family needs someone strong and smart to run it. You don’t need me to tell you that most of our relatives are idiots. My two sisters never had any sense and neither did their children. My father knew it, too, which is why he left most of the family money to me and your grandfather. He knew they’d all be broke and homeless without someone sensible in charge.”
Liam didn’t want to know where this conversation was going. It couldn’t be good. “Why are you telling me this? What does it have to do with Ron Wheeler?”
“Because I think you’re the right person to lead the family after I’m gone.”
“Don’t talk like that,” he insisted. They both knew she was too mean to die. “You have plenty of years ahead of you.”
Her sharp blue gaze focused on him, an unexpected hint of emotion flashing in them for a fleeting second before she waved away his statement. “Everyone dies, Liam. It’s better to be prepared for the eventuality. I want you to take my place and be family patriarch. As such, you would inherit everything of mine and serve as executor of the family trusts.”
The blood drained from Liam’s face. He didn’t want that kind of responsibility. Two billion dollars and a family full of greedy suck-ups chasing him around? “I don’t want your money, Aunt Beatrice. You know that.”
“Exactly. But I know what you do want. You want ANS. And as long as I have my shares, you won’t truly have it. I could sell at any time to Ron Wheeler or anyone else who gives me a good offer.”
Liam took a big swallow of wine to calm his nerves. Aunt Beatrice had never held anything over him. She couldn’t because until now he hadn’t needed her or her money and she knew it. But he’d made a critical error. He never should’ve agreed to this stock arrangement with her. He’d given her the leverage to twist him any way she wanted to. “Why would you do that? I told you I would buy that stock from you at what you paid or the going rate, if it goes higher.”
“Because I want you to settle down. I can’t have you leading this family while you play newsman and chase skirts around D.C. I want you married. Stable. Ready to lead the Crowe family.”
“I’m only twenty-eight.”
“The perfect age. Your father married when he was twenty-eight, as did your grandfather. You’re out of school, well established. You’ll be a prize to whatever lucky woman you choose.”
“Aunt Beatrice, I’m not ready to——”
“You will marry within the year,” she said, her serious tone like a royal decree he didn’t dare contradict. “On your one-year wedding anniversary, as a gift I will give you my shares of ANS stock and name you my sole beneficiary. Then you can truly breathe easy knowing your network is secure, and I can know this family will be cared for when I’m gone.”
She couldn’t be serious. “You can’t force me to marry.”
“You’re right. You’re a grown man and you make your own decisions. So the choice is entirely yours. Either you marry and get the company you want and more money than most people dream of…or you don’t and I sell my shares to Ron Wheeler. Tough choice, I understand.” At that, she returned to her soup as though they’d been discussing the weather.
Liam didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to anyone else calling the shots in his life. But he’d given himself a vulnerability she had been waiting to exploit. She’d probably planned this from the very moment he’d come to her about buying ANS. Liam leaned his head into his hand and closed his eyes.
“If you don’t know any suitable ladies, I can make a few recommendations.”
He was sure she’d just love that, too. Thankfully she’d stopped short of deciding who he should marry. “I think I can handle that part, thank you. I’ve been seeing someone,” he said quickly, hoping she didn’t ask for more details about the fictional woman.
Aunt Beatrice shrugged off the bitter tone in his voice. “Then it’s time the two of you got more serious. Just remember, you have a year from today to marry. But if I were you, I wouldn’t dawdle. The sooner you get married, the sooner ANS will be yours.”
Francesca had deliberately avoided Liam since they’d returned to D.C., but she couldn’t put off speaking to him any longer. She needed to know if they were going to be sponsoring the Youth in Crisis gala or not. It was a week and a half away. It was already too late to pull out, really, but if he was going to insist they couldn’t do it, she needed to know now.
She waved as she passed his assistant’s desk. “Afternoon, Jessica.”
The woman looked up at her with a wary expression. “You don’t want to go in there.”
Francesca frowned. Did she mean her specifically, or anyone? Liam couldn’t still be mad about the whole elevator thing. Could he? “Why?”
“He’s been in a foul mood since we left New York. I’m not sure what happened. Something with his family, I think.”
“Is everyone okay?”
Jessica nodded her head. “He hasn’t had me send flowers to anyone, so I would assume so. But he’s not taking calls. He’s been sitting at his desk all morning flipping through his address book and muttering to himself.”
Interesting. “Well, I hate to do it, but I have to speak with him.”
“As you wish.” Jessica pressed the intercom button that linked to Liam’s phone. “Mr. Crowe, Ms. Orr is here to see you.”
“Not now,” his voice barked over the line. Then, after a brief pause, he said, “Never mind. Send her in.”
Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know what that’s all about, but go on in.”
Francesca gripped the handle to his office door and took a deep breath before going inside. She’d dressed in her most impressive power suit today and felt confident she would leave his office with what she wanted. The emerald-green pantsuit was striking and well-tailored. Her black hair was twisted up into a bun, and she had a silk scarf tied around her neck. Not only did she feel good in the outfit, she felt well-covered. Liam had already seen too much of her body. She intended to keep every inch out of his sight from now on.
As she opened the door, she saw Liam sitting at his desk just as Jessica had described. He was flipping through an address book, making notes on his desk blotter. As she came in he looked up and then slammed the book shut.
“Good morning, Ms. Orr.” His voice was a great deal more formal and polite than it was the last time they’d spoken. Of course, then they’d been recently naked together.
“Mr. Crowe. I wanted to speak to you about the Youth in Crisis gala. We don’t have much time to—”
“Have a seat, Francesca.”
She stopped short, surprised at his interruption. Unsure of what else to do, she moved to take a seat in the guest chair across from his desk. Before she could sit, he leaped up and pointed to the less formal sitting area on the other side of his office.
“Over here, please. I don’t like talking to people across the desk. It feels weird.”
Francesca corrected her course to sit in the plush gray leather chair he’d indicated. She watched him warily as he went to the small refrigerator built into the cabinets beside his desk.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I don’t drink at work.”
Liam turned to her with a frown and a bottle of root beer in his hand. “At all? I have bottled water, root beer—my personal favorite—and some lemon-lime soda. I don’t drink at work, either, despite the fact that if anyone wanted to be in a drunken stupor right now, it would be me.” He pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and handed it to her. “To replace the one we…used up in the elevator.”
Francesca started to reach for the bottle, then froze at the memory of water pouring over his head and onto her own bare chest. Damn, he’d said that on purpose to throw her off her game. Pulling herself together, she took the bottle and set it on the coffee table unopened.
Liam joined her, sitting on the nearby sofa with his bottle of root beer. “I have a proposition for you.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. “I told you that I wasn’t interested in dinner.”
Liam watched her intently with his jewel-blue eyes as he sipped his drink. “I’m not asking you to dinner. I’m asking you to marry me.”
Francesca was glad she hadn’t opted to drink that water or she would’ve spit it across the room. She sat bolt upright in her seat and glared at him. “Marry you? Are you crazy?”
“Shhh…” he said, placing his drink on the table. “I don’t want anyone to hear our discussion. This is very important. And I’m dead serious. I want you to be my fiancée. At least for a few months.”
“Why me? What is going on?”
Liam sighed. “I’ve put myself in a vulnerable position with the company. I couldn’t afford all of Graham Boyle’s stock, so my aunt owns the largest share of ANS, not me. She’s threatening to sell it to Ron Wheeler if I don’t get married within a year.”
Ron Wheeler. That was a name that could send chunks of ice running through her veins. Charity didn’t help the bottom line in his eyes. Francesca, her staff and the entire department would be out the door before the ink was dry on the sale. And they would just be the first, not the last to go if he were in charge. “Why would she do that?”
“She wants me married and settled down. She wants me to be the strong family patriarch when she’s gone and doesn’t believe my playboy ways are appropriate. I think she’s bluffing, really. I’m hoping that if I get engaged, that will be enough to soothe her. In the meantime, I’m going to work with my accountant and financial advisor to see if I can arrange for a line of credit large enough to buy her out. I have no expectation that we’ll actually have to get married.”
“I should hope not,” she snapped. Francesca had some very strong ideas about what a good marriage was made of and blackmail was not the ideal start. “Don’t you have anyone else you can ask? You’ve known me less than a week.”
Liam looked over to the book on his desk and shook his head. “I’ve gone through every woman’s name in my address book and there’s not a single suitable candidate. All those women would look at this as a romantic opportunity, not a business arrangement. That’s why you’re my ideal choice.”
A business arrangement? That’s just what a girl wanted to hear. “So if this is just a business arrangement, that means you have no intention of trying to get me into bed, right?”
Liam leaned closer to her and a wicked grin spread across his face. “I didn’t say that, but really, that’s not my first priority here. I’m asking you for several reasons. First, I like you. Spending time with you shouldn’t be a hardship. My aunt will expect the relationship to appear authentic and she’ll sniff out the truth if she thinks we’re faking it. After our time in the elevator, I think you and I have enough chemistry to make it realistic. And second, I know I can count on you because you want something from me.”
Francesca opened her mouth to argue with him and then stopped. She knew exactly where this was going. Tit for tat. “The Youth in Crisis gala?”
He nodded. “If Ron Wheeler gets a hold of this company, everything you’ve worked for will be destroyed. The only thing I can do to protect this company and its employees is to get engaged as soon as I can. For your assistance, I’m offering the full financial support of ANS for the Youth in Crisis charity ball. I’ll even pledge to top the highest private donation with my own money. I look at it as an investment in the future of the network. And all you have to do is wear a beautiful diamond ring and tolerate my company until my aunt backs down.”
It felt like a deal with the devil and there had to be a catch. “You said it had to appear authentic. Define authentic.”
Liam sat back in his seat and crossed his leg over his knee. “No one is going to follow us into the bedroom, Francesca, and I won’t make you do anything that you don’t want to do. But everything we can do to convince people we are a couple in love would be helpful.”
She shook her head and looked down at her lap. This was all so sudden. The idea of being Liam’s fiancée, even if just temporarily, wasn’t so bad. She’d be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t thought about their time in the elevator as she lay alone in bed each night. But his fiancée? Publicly? What would she tell her family? She couldn’t tell them the truth. And her friends? She would have to lie to everyone she knew.
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Andrea Laurence
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Media mogul Liam Crowe can’t control the chemistry with spitfire employee Francesca Orr.First she’s calling him names in the boardroom; next, she’s kissing him! Now Liam has a name for her: fiancée, because Francesca is perfect fake fiancée material! But when she goes along with the plan, things get very real very fast…