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Playing Mr. Right
Kat Cantrell
‘We’ll be working very closely together.’Investigative reporter Laurel Dixon relishes exposing fraud. Yet smart, sexy, caring Xavier LeBlanc isn’t quite what she expected. unexpected. Will she choose the story of a lifetime…or a life with Mr Right?


“We’ll be working very closely together.”
Investigative reporter Laurel Dixon wants to save the world. And she’ll do it by exposing fraud at LeBlanc Charities, by playing the man in charge. Yet smart, sexy, caring Xavier LeBlanc is unexpected. Going undercover allows her to be the bold woman she’s always wanted to be. But when she ends up under his covers, will she choose the story of a lifetime...or a life with Mr. Right?
USA TODAY bestselling author KAT CANTRELL read her first Mills & Boon novel in third grade and has been scribbling in notebooks since she learned to spell. She’s a Harlequin So You Think You Can Write winner and a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award finalist. Kat, her husband and their two boys live in north Texas.
Also by Kat Cantrell (#uba28fb67-c64b-56f4-a92d-253c8cdc896e)
Marriage with Benefits
The Things She Says
The Baby Deal
Best Friend Bride
One Night Stand Bride
Contract Bride
Wrong Brother, Right Man
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Playing Mr Right
Kat Cantrell


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07677-7
PLAYING MR RIGHT
© 2018 Kat Cantrell
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Cover (#u0baacd42-b223-520e-9fab-be06cb9f1cd3)
Back Cover Text (#ud13cb20e-defe-5e65-8ea8-45306c4fd509)
About the Author (#u49575240-9ba7-566e-a2d2-fd57a85b19e3)
Booklist (#ucf4ad5f6-8f4e-584c-b529-429ecffe9b84)
Title Page (#u71620106-fa07-51b4-b712-1e6fc5298c13)
Copyright (#uadea9ac7-3653-5bb7-8b99-c9378f7619d3)
One (#uc38f6005-d310-5263-bf03-aa4c327aa802)
Two (#uff291e4a-829b-5124-bc53-80eeb85c96f5)
Three (#u7a2a04e0-0284-5677-bab8-fbd22a5352c3)
Four (#u17f88789-b6f1-52ef-bf23-bb7082bbb9c9)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#uba28fb67-c64b-56f4-a92d-253c8cdc896e)
The building housing LeBlanc Charities felt the same as every other time Xavier had set foot in it—like he’d been banished. Despite sharing a last name with the founder, this was the last place he’d choose to be, which was too bad considering he’d been forced to walk through the door nearly every day for the last three months.
And would continue to do so for the next three months until this hell of an inheritance test drew to its conclusion. Xavier’s father had devised a diabolical way to ensure his sons danced to his tune long after he’d died: Xavier and his brother, Val, had been required to switch places in order to receive their inheritances.
So the ten years Xavier had spent learning the ins and outs of LeBlanc Jewelers, plus the five years since he’d taken over the CEO chair and broken his back to please his father...none of that mattered. In order to get the five hundred million dollars he’d have sworn he’d already earned, Xavier had to pass one final test. But instead of being required to do something that made sense, the will stipulated that Xavier would become a fundraiser in Val’s place at LeBlanc Charities and his brother would assume the reins of LeBlanc Jewelers.
Even three months after the fact, Xavier still foamed at the mouth if he let himself dwell on how unfair and impossible the terms were. His father had betrayed him, bottom line. While Xavier had been putting enormous energy into connecting with his dad and basking in the glow of being the favored son in blissful ignorance, Edward had been plotting to posthumously show his sons how much he really hated both of them.
In that, Xavier and Val were alike. It had been a surprisingly effective bonding experience for the brothers who shared similar faces and not much else. Though twins, they’d never been close, even choosing completely different paths as adults. Val had followed their mother into LeBlanc Charities and thrived. Xavier had gladly shucked off anything remotely resembling charity work in favor of the powerful CEO’s office at one of the world’s largest and most profitable diamond companies.
All for nothing.
The terms of the will had sliced off a huge piece of Xavier’s soul and he’d yet to recover it.
Bitter did not begin to describe his feelings toward his father. But he used that bitterness as fuel. He would not fail at this test. Success was the best revenge, after all.
Xavier had swept into his new role at LBC with gusto...and despite his fierce need to ace his task, he still hadn’t gotten his feet under him. It was like his father had stacked the deck against him, somehow. The problem was that the will stipulated Xavier had to raise ten million dollars in donations while doing Val’s job. No easy feat. But he hadn’t given up yet, nor would he.
Even at 6:00 a.m., LeBlanc Charities teemed with life. The food pantry operated seven days a week, fifteen hours a day. It was ludicrous. A huge waste of capital. Oftentimes, the volunteers reported that no guests had darkened the door of LBC during the early morning hours, yet they always kept the light on.
Changing the operational hours of the food pantry had been one of the first of many executive orders Xavier had come to regret. He’d changed them back, but Marjorie Lewis, the tiny general of a woman who had been a surprisingly effective services manager, had still quit. Sure, she’d told Val—her real boss, as she’d informed Xavier—that her mother had fallen ill with a long-term condition. But Xavier knew the truth.
She hated him.
Nearly everyone at LBC did, so that was at least consistent. The staff who reported to him at LeBlanc Jewelers—his real job, as he’d informed Marjorie—respected him. Did they like him? Who knew? And Xavier didn’t care as long as they increased profits month over month.
LBC was not the diamond industry. No one here owned any diamonds, except for him, and he’d stopped wearing his Yacht-Master watch after the first day. Marjorie had pointed out, rather unkindly, that the people LBC helped would either assume it was fake, try to steal it or paint him with the ugly brush of insensitivity. Or all three.
Therefore, a five-hundred-thousand-dollar watch now sat in his jewelry box, unworn. Talk about a waste. But he’d left it there in hopes of garnering some of that mythical respect. Instead, he’d met brick wall after brick wall in the form of Marjorie, who had rallied the troops to hate him as much as she did. And then she’d quit, leaving Xavier holding the bag. Literally.
Yesterday, he’d worked in the food pantry, stocking shopping bags the hungry people LBC served could grab and go. The families took prepacked boxes. Once a day, LBC served a meal, but Xavier stayed out of the kitchen. Jennifer Sanders, the meal services manager, had that well under control and also agreed with the popular opinion that Val walked on water, so anything Xavier did paled in comparison.
Like he did every morning, Xavier retreated to his office. Val’s office, really, but Xavier had redecorated. He’d ordered the walls painted and new furniture installed because if this was going to be his domain, it shouldn’t remind him every second that Val had been here first—and done it better.
Xavier pushed around the enormous amount of paperwork that a charity generated until his brother popped through the door. Thank God. Xavier had started to wonder if Val would actually show up for their planned meeting about the missing services manager. After Marjorie stormed out, the majority of the day-to-day operations management fell to Xavier and that left precious little time to plan fundraisers that he desperately needed to organize.
Val had offered to help with the interview process, which had been a lifeline Xavier had gladly snagged, without telling his brother how much he needed that help. If the terms of his father’s will had taught him anything, it was not to trust a soul, not even family.
“Sorry I’m late.” Val strolled into his former office and made a face at the walls, flipping his too-long hair out of his eyes. “If you were going to paint, at least you could have picked a color other than puke green.”
“It’s sage. Which is soothing.”
It was nothing of the sort and did not resemble the color swatch the decorator had showed him in the slightest. But Xavier had to live with it, apparently, because LBC didn’t have a lot of extra money for frivolous things like painting. When he’d tried to use his own money, Marjorie had flipped out and cited a hundred and forty-seven reasons that was a bad idea. Mostly what he’d gotten out of her diatribe was that LBC had a negative audit in their rearview and thus had multiple microscopes pointed at their books.
Meaning Xavier needed to watch his step.
“Who do we have on tap today?” Val asked pleasantly as he sprawled in one of the chairs ringing the director’s desk that Xavier sat behind.
No one was fooled by the desk. Xavier didn’t direct much of anything. He would have claimed to be a smart man prior to this inheritance test, but LBC had slowly stripped away his confidence. At his normal job, he ran a billion-dollar company that was one of the most highly respected jewelry operations in the world. LeBlanc was synonymous with diamonds. He could point to triumph after triumph in his old world. This new one? Still Val’s baby even though Xavier’s brother was currently helming LeBlanc Jewelers with flair.
Xavier stopped his internal whining and picked up the single résumé on his desk. “After you ruled out the others, this is the only one. The candidate has experience similar to Marjorie’s but with a women’s shelter. So probably she’s a no-go. I want someone with food-pantry experience.”
“Well, that’s your call.” Val’s tone held a tinge of disapproval, as if wanting someone with experience was the height of craziness. “Do you mind if I look at it?”
He handed the résumé to Val, who glanced over it, his lips pursed.
“This Laurel Dixon is the only new résumé you’ve got?” Val asked.
“From people who are remotely qualified, yeah. So far. I posted the job to the usual sites but we’ve had very little response.”
Val pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not good. I wonder if our little inheritance experiment has made the rounds. I would have expected more applicants, but if you’ve scared off all the candidates, I’m going to be in a world of hurt when I step back into my position here.”
That stung, but Xavier didn’t let it show. He never did. He’d learned to school his emotions at Edward LeBlanc’s knee from an early age. CEOs didn’t wear their hearts on their sleeves or they lost the respect of their workers. That lesson had served him well—until his father had upended everything in one fell swoop.
“This is not my fault,” Xavier responded evenly, though Val’s point wasn’t lost on him. Marjorie. Again. He wouldn’t put it past her to have poisoned the well of potential applicants, but there was no way to fix that now. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame Dad.”
Val’s expression didn’t change as he waved the résumé. “We should interview this candidate. What other choice do you have? No one says you have to keep her if she doesn’t work out.”
“Fine.”
Xavier picked up the phone and left a message at the number listed on the résumé. He didn’t have time to argue the point or let his feelings get in a twist because Val was throwing his weight around. This was all temporary, and as Val had so eloquently pointed out, he’d be back in the saddle again soon, anyway. Little that Xavier did would make a difference in the long run.
Since they didn’t have much regarding Marjorie’s replacement to meet about, after all, Val apparently thought that was a license to ask a few barbed questions about how things were going operationally at LBC. They were interrupted by a brisk knock on the door.
Adelaide, the admin who had been a disciple of Marjorie’s, poked her head into the office with a sweet smile for Val. If he hadn’t seen it himself, Xavier wouldn’t have believed she knew how to smile.
“There’s a Laurel Dixon here to see you,” she said. “About the position.”
Xavier had called her less than thirty minutes ago and he’d said nothing about coming by. Only that he’d like to schedule an interview.
“No notice,” he said quietly to Val. “That’s a little bold, don’t you think?”
It tripped his sixth sense and not in a good way. Downtown Chicago was not known for having great traffic patterns, so either she lived really close by or had already been on her way here.
Val raised his brows in challenge. “I’m already impressed. That’s the kind of go-getting I like.”
Of course he’d say that and manage to make it sound like Xavier was in the wrong at the same time. “I’d rather send her away and schedule a real interview. After I’ve had time to go over her qualifications.”
“She’s here.” Val shrugged. “What’s there to go over? If you’re unsure, I’ll do the talking.”
“I can talk,” Xavier fairly growled. “I just don’t like surprises.”
Or anyone stepping on his toes, which was what he got for stupidly mentioning to his brother that Marjorie’s exodus had caught him sideways. Val had taken full advantage of that show of weakness, too, storming in here like a victorious hero and earning adoring glances from his staff.
Val just grinned and flipped hair out of his face in true slacker fashion. “I’m aware. Don’t sweat it. I came by to handle this problem. Let me handle it.”
When hell froze over. “We’ll both interview her. Adelaide, show her in.”
Val didn’t even bother to move to another chair like a normal person would. You positioned yourself behind the desk as a show of authority. Val probably didn’t even know how to spell authority. That’s why his staff loved him, because he treated them all like equals. Except everyone was not equal. Someone had to be in charge, make the hard decisions.
And that person was Xavier, for better or worse. Val could step aside. This was still Xavier’s office for three more months.
Laurel Dixon walked into the room and Xavier forgot about Val, LBC...his own name. Everything else in the world went dim. Except for her.
The woman following Adelaide looked nothing like Marjorie, that was for sure. She looked nothing like any woman Xavier had ever met. Long, lush sable-colored hair hung down her back, but that only held his attention for a split second. Her face was arresting, with piercing silvery-gray eyes that locked onto his and wouldn’t let go.
Something otherworldly passed between them and it was so fanciful a feeling that Xavier shook it off instantly. He didn’t do otherworldly, whatever the hell that even meant. Never had he used such a term in his life to describe anything. But nothing else fit, and that made the whole encounter suspect. Besides, it was ridiculous to have any sort of reaction to a woman outside of desire, and even that was rarely strong enough for Xavier to note. Most, if not all, of his encounters with females could be described as mildly pleasurable, at best.
This woman had trouble written all over her if she could elicit such a response by merely walking into a room.
Coupled with the fact that she’d shown up without an appointment—Laurel Dixon raised his hackles about ten degrees past uncomfortable.
“Ms. Dixon.” Val stood and offered his hand. “I’m Valentino LeBlanc, the director of LBC.”
“Mr. LeBlanc. Very nice to meet you,” she said, her clean voice vibrating across Xavier’s skin with a force he couldn’t shake.
He’d have said he preferred sultry voices. Sexy ones that purred when aroused. Laurel Dixon’s voice could never be described as carnal, but that didn’t seem to matter. He instantly wanted to hear it again. It was the kind of voice he could listen to for an hour and never get bored.
This was supposed to be an interview. Not a seduction. Actually, he’d never been seduced before, at least, not that he could recall. Usually he was the one making all the moves and he wasn’t all that keen to be on the receiving end with a woman who wasn’t even supposed to be here.
“Xavier LeBlanc,” he announced and cleared his inexplicably ragged throat. “Current director of LBC. Val is just passing through.”
She flicked her attention from Val to Xavier. This was the part where he had to stand and stick his hand out. Laurel Dixon clasped it, and when no lightning bolts forked between them, he relaxed an iota. That’s when he made the mistake of letting his gaze rest on her lips. They curved up into a smile and that kicked him in the gut so hard, he felt it in his toes. Yanking his hand free, he sank back into his chair, wondering when, exactly, he’d lost his marbles.
“Two for the price of one,” she said with a laugh that was just as arresting as her face. “I applaud the fact that you have such different hairstyles. Makes it easier to tell you apart.”
Automatically he ran a hand over his closely cropped hair. He wore it that way because it looked professional. The style suited him and the fact that Val’s too-long hair marked him as the rebel twin only worked in Xavier’s favor. “Val gets lost on the way to the barber.”
Despite the fact that he hadn’t meant it as a joke, that made her laugh again, which pretty much solidified his resolve to stop talking. The less she laughed like that, the better.
“We weren’t expecting you,” Val said conversationally and indicated the seat next to him, then waited until Laurel slid into it before taking his own. “Though we’re impressed with your enthusiasm. Right, Xavier?”
Figured that the second after he’d vowed to shut his mouth, Val dragged him right back into the conversation.
“That’s one way to put it,” he muttered. “I would have liked to schedule an interview.”
“Oh, well, of course that would have been the appropriate thing to do,” she admitted with an eye roll that shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was. “But I’m so very interested in the job that I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. So I thought, why wait?”
Why, indeed? “What about directing a food pantry excites you so much?”
“Oh, all of it,” she answered quickly. “I love to help people in need and what better way than through one of the most basic fundamentals? Food is a necessity. I want to feed people.”
“Well said,” Val murmured.
Since his brother could have written that speech word for word, Xavier wasn’t surprised he’d been moved by her passion. It sounded a little too memorized to Xavier’s ear, and his gut had been screaming at him from the moment he’d first handed Val Laurel Dixon’s résumé.
Something about her was off. He didn’t like her. Nor did he like the way she unsettled him. If he had to constantly brace himself to be in her presence, how could they work together?
“Your experience is on the sparse side,” Xavier said and tapped the résumé between them. “What did you do at the women’s shelter that will segue into a services manager at a food pantry?”
Laurel launched into a well-rehearsed spiel about her role, highlighting her project management skills, and wrapped it up by getting into a spirited back-and-forth with Val about some of her ideas for new outreach.
His brother was sold on Laurel Dixon. Xavier could tell. Val had smiled through the entire exchange. Sure enough, after the candidate left, Val crossed his arms and said, “She’s the one.”
“She is so not the one.”
“What? Why not?” Val dismissed that with a wave without waiting for an answer. “She’s perfect.”
“Then you hire her. In three months. I’m still in charge here and I say I want a different candidate.”
“You’re being stubborn for no reason,” Val shot back, and some of the goodwill that had sprung up between them as they navigated the Great Inheritance Switch—as Xavier had been calling it in his head—began to slide away.
His caution had nothing to do with stubbornness and he had plenty of reasons. “She’s got no experience.”
“Are you kidding? Everything she did at the women’s shelter translates. Maybe not as elegantly as you might like, but you only have to deal with her for three months. After that, I’ll be the one stuck with her if she’s the wrong candidate. Humor me.”
Xavier crossed his arms. “There’s something not quite right about Laurel Dixon. I can’t put my finger on it. You didn’t sense that, too?”
“No. She’s articulate and enthusiastic.” The look Val shot him was part sarcasm and part pity. “Are you sure you’re not picking up on the fact that she’s not an emotionless robot like you?”
Ha. As if he hadn’t heard that one before. But obviously Val had no clue about what really went on beneath Xavier’s skin. Xavier just had a lot of practice at hiding what was going on inside. Edward LeBlanc had frowned on weakness, and in his mind, emotions and weakness went hand in hand.
“Yeah, that must be it.”
Val rolled his eyes at Xavier’s refusal to engage. “This is not the corporate world. We don’t hire people based on how well they rip apart their prey here in nonprofit land. You need someone to replace Marjorie, like, yesterday. Unless you have a line of other options hidden away in the potato closet, you’ve got your new hire.”
The damage was done. Now Xavier couldn’t readily discount Laurel Dixon as a candidate, though the barb had hit its mark in a wholly different way than Val probably even realized. No, this wasn’t the corporate world and his raging uncertainty might well be rearing its ugly head here.
His father had done a serious number on him with this switcheroo. Xavier was only just coming to realize how many chunks of his confidence were missing as a result. How much of his inability to take an applicant at face value had to do with that?
Everything was suspect as a result.
“I’ll deal with Laurel Dixon if that pleases your majesty,” he told Val. “But I’m telling you up front. I don’t trust her. She’s hiding something and if it comes back to bite you, I’m going to remind you of this conversation.”
Odds were good it was going to come back to bite Xavier long before it affected Val, who would leave to go back to the world of sane, logical, corporate politics in a few minutes. Xavier, on the other hand, would be working side by side for the next three months with a new services manager who made his skin hum when he looked at her.
He had a feeling he’d be spending a lot of time avoiding Laurel Dixon in order to protect himself, because that was what he did. No one was allowed to get under his skin and no one got an automatic place on Xavier’s list of people he trusted.
Hopefully she liked hard work and thrived on opportunities to prove herself. Xavier was going to give her both.
Two (#uba28fb67-c64b-56f4-a92d-253c8cdc896e)
When Laurel Dixon had decided to go undercover at the LeBlanc Charities food pantry to investigate claims of fraud, she maybe should have picked a different position than services manager. Who would have thought they’d actually hire her, though?
They were supposed to admire her enthusiasm and give her a lesser position. One that gave her plenty of access to the people she needed to interview on the down low and plenty of time to do it. Instead, she’d been handed the keys to the kingdom—which should have put her in a great place to dig into LBC’s books. Donors needed to know that LBC wasn’t on the up-and-up, that they were only pretending to help people in need while the thieves lined their own pockets.
Except thus far she’d had zero time to even think about how to expose the charity’s fraudulent practices.
Of course, a lot of that had to do with one infuriating man named Xavier LeBlanc.
Just because he arrived at LBC at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m. and worked through lunch didn’t mean the rest of the world had to do the same. But they’d all done it, Laurel included, though she didn’t suffer from the same sense of anxiety the other staffers seemed to feel around their interim boss.
But what was she supposed to do, stroll in at nine and draw attention to herself? She’d taken this job under false pretenses. And she couldn’t back out now.
Ugh. This was what she got for trying a whole different approach to investigative reporting. This was supposed to be her big breakthrough story. The one that would fix her reputation in the industry while appealing to her sense of fair play and her drive to help people at the same time. If she went undercover, surely she could get the facts for the exposé, and this time, there would be no embarrassing counter-story exposing the lack of foundation for her accusations.
Embarrassing and nearly career killing. Thanks to social media shares and the eternal stores of video, her blunder would never be forgotten. But she could give her audience something else to play with. As long as she didn’t make a single mistake with this investigation. When she blew the whistle on LBC, it would be career making. A triumph that would erase the mistakes of her last investigation.
Or so she’d laid out in a foolproof mental plan that ended up having a remarkable number of holes.
Instead, she’d spent her first few hours on the job following Adelaide around as the admin explained how Xavier envisioned things working around LBC—and how fast he expected Laurel to get it that way. Apparently, the old manager, Marjorie, had left operations in a bit of disarray when she’d left, but Mr. LeBlanc couldn’t be bothered to tell her his expectations himself.
At one o’clock, she’d had enough.
Feigning hunger and fatigue, she begged off from Adelaide’s cheerful tour of the facility and bearded the lion in his den. She didn’t mind hard work, but only if there was a distinct payoff, and so far, she hadn’t seen one. It was time to shake things up.
Xavier LeBlanc glanced up at her sharp knock, his deep blue eyes registering not one iota of surprise or curiosity—nothing. It was a great trick, one she wished she knew how to replicate. It would come in handy as she pretended she knew what the hell she was doing at this new gig.
In lieu of that, she’d settle for a mentor who could give her the insight she needed.
“Got a minute?” she asked and didn’t wait for the answer. He would see her whether he liked it or not. How was she supposed to figure out who was responsible for the fraud inside these walls if she didn’t keep the man in charge very, very close?
His gaze tracked her as she waltzed right into his office with confidence. He seemed like the type who wouldn’t appreciate a mousey approach.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, his sinfully sexy voice rumbling in his chest.
She missed a step. His sexiness quotient really shouldn’t be something she noticed. At all. Xavier LeBlanc wasn’t allowed to be sexy. He was her boss and she’d been hired based on a lie. One she’d told with good reason, and all of the experience on her résumé was real. But still.
None of that equaled free rein to be attracted to the man behind the desk. And none of that stopped her insides from quivering as his gaze slid down her face to her mouth. He’d done that in the interview more than once and she’d blown it off then. She thought she’d been mistaken. That they’d been stray looks that didn’t mean anything. She’d imagined it.
Today? Punch in the girl parts.
She could no more pretend it hadn’t happened than she could ignore it. Did Xavier have any clue how unsettling it was to have a man who looked like him slide his gaze to your mouth as if he couldn’t decide how to kiss you? Not if. How. Because it was happening and he wanted you to anticipate it.
Okay, she had to ignore that. She had a job. Two jobs. Neither were going to go well if she didn’t pull it together. Besides, he hadn’t done or said anything inappropriate. Likely she was still imagining it.
“Adelaide is a sweet lady,” Laurel began. “But I don’t get the impression she’s fully communicating your vision as well as I would hope. Would it be possible for you to be a little more hands-on?”
In a totally nonpervy way, of course, she added silently as the atmosphere in the room went dead still. Totally could have phrased that better. More professional. Less I want you on this desk right now.
Xavier’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “What, exactly, are you asking me to do?”
Oh, man. Surely he didn’t mean for that to sound as leading as it did. But then, she’d started it. Was he expecting her to finish it?
Her mind immediately filled in those blanks with several things she could ask him to do. Curiosity was both her strength and her biggest weakness, and she almost never hesitated to investigate things she was dying to know, like whether Xavier’s shoulders felt as strong and broad as they looked and how he planned to kiss her.
Of course, she’d never say that out loud. She couldn’t. Well, okay, she totally could and she had a feeling Xavier would deliver. But she wouldn’t. It was highly unethical, for more reasons than one.
But she couldn’t get the sudden and sharp images out of her head of what might happen if she did take the hint in his voice and really laid out what she might like. Nothing wrong with a little harmless fantasizing about a sexy man, was there?
“I, um...” Voice too husky. Not professional. Focus. She cleared her throat. “It’s my first day. I was hoping you and I might talk about your expectations.”
Good. That didn’t sound like the lead-in to a seduction scene at all.
“I expect you to manage the operations of this charity,” he said succinctly. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I got that part.” Sexy, but either Xavier was obtuse or he had way more confidence in her than he had a right to. “But this is your vision I’m executing. I don’t know anything about you or your ideas for how things should work. Tell me what my typical day should look like.”
Xavier lifted his hands from the keyboard of his laptop and laced them together in a deliberately precise gesture that had the mark of a man demonstrating his patience. His hands were strong and capable, with long lean fingers that she had to stop envisioning on her body.
“That’s what I asked Adelaide to do. If she’s failing to—”
“No, no.” God, no. The last thing she’d intended to do was put a spotlight on Adelaide. The poor woman probably had nightmares about Xavier as it was. “She’s great. Very helpful. But I want to hear it straight from you. We’re going to be working very closely together, after all.”
“We’re doing nothing of the kind. I hired you to be invisible and ensure that I never have to think about the operations of this place.”
Oh. That was not going to work. Laurel leaned forward and laced her own hands together near the edge of the desk, mirroring his pose. “See, that’s exactly that sort of thing that Adelaide could never convey. She showed me where departments are and introduced me to people. But I need the mind of Xavier LeBlanc to mesh with mine so we’re in sync. Tell me what you’d do. That’s the best way to ensure you don’t have to think about things, because I will instantly know how you’d want something handled.”
And that philosophy had the added bonus of filling in the gaps of her skill set, not to mention allowing her to grill him on how much he knew about the fraud. Her sources had been volunteers in the food pantry and they had given her several credible tips about substitutions that didn’t make it into the books, among other things. What she already knew was likely the tip of the iceberg. In her line of work, there was always more to discover.
But she needed to know how high up it went, if Xavier knew about it or if this strange and unexplained switch between the brothers had removed the real culprit from LBC.
Maybe the mysterious switch had its roots in the fraud. She had to know.
At the same time, she couldn’t make mistakes. If Xavier’s brother had spearheaded or approved the fraud, she had to find proof. Of course, it could have started with Xavier’s reign, which added to the complexity of the investigation. It was a wrinkle she hadn’t seen coming but adhering to Xavier’s directive to be “invisible” wasn’t going to reveal even a tiny slice of what she needed to uncover.
Xavier’s gaze skittered over hers again and she had the distinct impression he didn’t quite know what to do with her. Good. An off-kilter man spilled secrets he meant to keep close to the vest. She relaxed a smidgen. This undercover business couldn’t be too hard. Or, rather, she couldn’t allow it to be. This story was too important to the people LBC should be serving instead of cheating. The story was too important to her career.
“Here’s what I want, Ms. Dixon.” His low voice snaked through her and she tried really hard not to react, but she didn’t have his ability to be stone-faced. Neither did he miss her reaction, absorbing it with a long, slow pause laden with things unsaid. “I want you to ensure LBC operates smoothly enough that I can focus on fundraising. Outside of that, I don’t care what you do.”
She blinked. “Sure you do. You’re in charge. Everything flows uphill, right?”
That was the core of an investigative reporter’s philosophy, the one they taught in Digging for Facts 101. Follow the money. The guy in the corner office was always the place to start because he made all the decisions. If anything illegal was going on, it usually went all the way to the top.
Of course, this situation had the added layer of the guy at the top not being the normal guy. All at once, she hoped Xavier would be in the clear and she’d instead be taking down his brother. Which would be a shame, because she’d genuinely liked Val.
She couldn’t let her personal feelings compromise the investigation, as they had in her last story. She couldn’t afford to like anyone in this situation.
“Indeed it does,” Xavier finally said.
His gaze still hadn’t left hers, and if she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he might be fighting some of the same attraction she was. Surely he had his pick of women. He wasn’t trying to be sexy as a come-on; it was just a natural part of who he was and she didn’t for a second think he’d turned it on specifically for her.
“Great, then we’re on the same page. You’re in charge and I’m here to execute your orders. What would you like me to do first?”
“Explain why it seems like you’re flirting with me.”
Laurel’s lungs seized and she choked on a breath. Tears leaked from her eyes as she coughed, and if she was really lucky, mascara streaks were even now forming below her lashes.
“What?” she asked when she recovered. “I’m not flirting with you.”
If anything, he was the one exuding all the come-hither vibes. At times, it was so strong, she was barely hanging on by the fingernails.
His implacable expression didn’t change. “Good. It would be a bad idea to get involved.”
Oh, well, that was a telling statement. Not “You’re not my type.” Not “You’ve mistaken me for a heterosexual.” Bad idea to get involved. That meant he felt all the sizzle, too.
Interesting.
How much closer could she get to Xavier LeBlanc and would that benefit her story? Or simply benefit her? The man knew his way around an orgasm—she could tell. And while this exposé lay at the pinnacle of her personal goals, she couldn’t help but want to investigate her reaction to Xavier as a man.
She had a core-deep desire to know things, and at this moment, Xavier topped the list.
“A bad, bad idea,” she repeated and crossed her fingers behind her back. “I solemnly swear that I will refrain from all double entendres, loaded statements and anything that could be construed as flirting while you and I are working so closely together.”
“I didn’t say we’d be working closely together,” he corrected, and all at once she wondered what it would take to get him well and truly rattled to the point of revealing something unintended.
If she hoped to dig up enough dirt for an exposé, she’d have to figure it out. Everyone had their tipping point and people had spilled secrets to her in the past, often before realizing it. Usually that happened after she’d gained a measure of their trust, though.
How ethical was it to seduce it out of someone? She’d never tried that particular method before and there was no way to deny the idea excited her. Which meant it really was a bad idea. But still viable. She needed more information before fully committing.
“Oh, come on. We just hashed that out. You’re in charge, I’m here to do exactly what you say but not sexually and we’re both going to ignore the chemistry. Where, exactly, did I lose you, Mr. LeBlanc?”
At that, he actually laughed, and the heavy, rich sound did flippy things to her insides. His deep blue eyes speared her and she got all caught up in him in a very nonprofessional way. Yeah, there might not be a whole lot of choice in the matter and she might not be the one doing the seducing. It was delicious to contemplate, either way.
“I’m not lost. Just...reassessing,” he said.
“That sounds promising. Why don’t you share your vision with me, at least, and we’ll take it from there?”
“Vision for what?”
He’d leaned into the space between them and she was having a hard time concentrating. Xavier had a very potent presence that had latched onto her skin in a wholly disturbing way. “For, um, LBC. As a charity. What’s the vision? Mission statement? That kind of thing.”
“Feed people,” he stated bluntly. “What more is there?”
“A lot. At the shelter, our goal was to give women back some control in their lives. Provide them with choices. The shelter part was just one of the mechanisms we employed.”
That had been satisfying work, even as a means to an end as she put herself through college. Sure, she’d had to fudge the dates a little on her résumé and leave off the last few years of employment so no one knew she’d worked for a news channel—which had subsequently fired her. But her drive to help people through knowledge hadn’t changed. She still believed in the value of nonprofit organizations, particularly those that served people at the poverty line.
That’s why it was so important to expose the fraud here. The money funneling through this organization should go to the people who came through the doors in need, not toward lining someone’s pocket because they saw an easy way to skim profits.
Xavier’s face turned to granite, which was his default more often than not. “You seem to forget I’m just filling in. This is not my normal world.”
All at once, the information she craved had nothing to do with LBC and everything to do with Xavier LeBlanc himself. He was such a fascinating puzzle who gave very little away. She wanted to unlock him in the worst way. “But your brother mentioned that your mother started this charity fifteen years ago. Surely you’ve been involved to some degree.”
“What you see is the sole extent of my involvement.” He waved at the desk. “This is where I’ll sit for three more months, and in that time I need to hold the best fundraiser this place has ever had. Mission statements are not my concern.”
She blinked, but his expression didn’t change. He was serious. Okay, wow.
“You’re going to have a very big problem, then. People don’t give money to fundraisers. They give to a cause they believe in. Your job is to make them believe in it. Don’t you think that in a city like Chicago there are a hundred—a thousand—places for people to donate? How do they decide? You help them decide by passionately pitching your mission statement to them.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” In the long pause, they stared at each other without blinking. “You’ve done fundraising before. Did you apply for the wrong position here?”
Yes. Yes, she had.
That was all the opening she needed to segue this potential disaster into something more her speed. “Perhaps, but only because you posted a job opening for the wrong position. Sounds like you need someone in your back pocket to tell you what to do, not the other way around. Were you not aware that you have serious deficiencies in your operating philosophy?”
Xavier leaned back in his chair as his gaze narrowed. “Can I be honest with you, Ms. Dixon?”
Oh, God, yes. Please spill all your secrets, Mr. LeBlanc.
“Only if you call me Laurel.”
His lips lifted into a brief smile that she fully expected meant he was about to argue with her. But he didn’t. “Laurel, then. You need to understand what’s happening here and I’m choosing to trust you, which is not something I do lightly.”
His tone or his smile or her own conscience tripped something inside. Guilt plowed through her stomach out of nowhere. It was one thing to dig deep enough to learn someone’s secrets when they were scamming, but she had no evidence Xavier was even involved in the fraud. What if her investigation caused problems for him?
Ugh, she was getting way ahead of herself. Her sources were credible and if there was something to uncover, Xavier would likely be happy that she’d done so. It was a public service, really. Surely he’d respect that.
“I’ll do my best to be worthy of that trust.”
He nodded once. “Then I have a confession. I am not well versed in how to run a charity. I do need help.”
She very nearly rolled her eyes. This was him being honest? “I already figured that out.”
“I’m doing my best to keep that nugget of truth from the rest of the staff,” he said wryly. “Which is why I try to stay out of their areas of expertise. That’s where you come in.”
“I hear you. You want to hide out here in the office while everyone else does the dirty work.” She stared him down as his eyebrows came together. “Too bad. You signed up to run LBC. Now do it. I’ll help. We’ll be partners.”
She stuck out her hand and waited. She needed him, whether she liked it or not. Whether he liked it or not. And the reverse was also clearly true. They would do this together or not at all. If she had a partner, the less chance she had of screwing up.
Xavier let her sweat it for about thirty seconds and then reluctantly reached out to clasp her hand for a very long beat that neither of them mistook for a simple handshake. There was too much electricity, too much unsaid for that.
The less she let him focus on that, the better.
Three (#uba28fb67-c64b-56f4-a92d-253c8cdc896e)
Partners.
That was a concept Xavier liked a whole lot, given his distinct impression that Laurel Dixon was hiding something. He liked it even better that she’d been the one to suggest working together. The closer he kept her, the easier it would be to keep an eye on her.
He trusted her about as much as he’d trust a convicted car thief with the keys to his Aston Martin.
But he also understood that his lack of trust wasn’t specific to Laurel. If he really wanted to get honest about it, his inability to stop being both suspicious and cautious had probably been at least half of Marjorie’s problem with him. That’s why he’d thought a hands-off approach with the new services manager might work best. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t shake that weird, misty feeling that sprang up inside whenever he was in the same room with Laurel Dixon. He’d hoped to avoid examining that by staying away from her.
Ms. Dixon had blown that plan to smithereens.
Jury was still out on how much wreckage he’d have to step over. Especially given the instant and volatile chemistry between them, which he’d been wholly prepared to pretend didn’t exist until she’d so eloquently refused to let him. So that was a thing. The next three months should be incredibly taxing and exceedingly painful, then.
“Partners. What happens next?” Xavier asked Laurel once he’d dropped her hand, though the severed contact didn’t eliminate the buzzing awareness arcing between them at all.
Not that he’d expected it to. Regardless of what he called the vibe between them, it wasn’t going away. The trick was managing it. Which meant it would be a bad idea to touch her again, and of course, that was all he could think about.
“Follow me.”
She slid from the seat she’d perched in when she first came into his office and glanced over her shoulder, perhaps to ensure he was doing as she commanded. As if he’d miss a second of whatever she had up her sleeve. Not likely.
Xavier trailed her to the receptionist’s desk. Adelaide’s eyes widened behind her bifocals as they approached and taut lines appeared around the woman’s mouth. He nearly growled at her just to see if she’d actually come out of her skin. What good was it to have people afraid of him if he couldn’t have fun with it occasionally?
Before he could try it, Laurel flipped a lock of her long sable-colored hair behind her back. “Today is your lucky day, Addy. You’re in charge from now on. Mr. LeBlanc has given you a promotion.”
“I did not. Oof.” Laurel’s elbow glanced off his ribs, leaving a sharp, smarting circle of shut up below his heart. “I mean...yeah. What Laurel said.”
Adelaide’s wide-eyed gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them as if she couldn’t quite get her bearings. He knew the feeling.
“That’s very generous, Mr. LeBlanc,” she squeaked. “But I don’t understand. A promotion?”
“Exactly.” Laurel beamed so brightly, Xavier could see the rays from his position behind her. “To Services Manager. You’re going to take Marjorie’s place.”
Wait, what? That was going a little far. If Adelaide had been remotely qualified or interested in the position, she would have applied for it the second the job posting had gone up. What, exactly, was Laurel up to?
“Are you sure about this?” he muttered in Laurel’s ear and caught her elbow a hairbreadth from his ribs, holding it tight just in case she was stronger than she looked.
Clearly she had a plan and intended for Xavier to follow it. The elbow to the ribs indicated that if he wanted to have a conversation about her tactics, she’d indulge him later.
“You know everything about this place, Adelaide. Tell Mr. LeBlanc,” Laurel instructed with a nauseating amount of cheer. “You gave me such a thorough tour of the place that I thought it would never end. There’s not a nook or cranny at LBC that you don’t have some sort of insight into. Is there?”
Obediently, Adelaide shook her head. “No, ma’am. I’ve been here seven years and started in the kitchen as a volunteer. I love every last board and nail in this place.”
“I could tell.” Laurel jerked her head at Xavier. “Mr. LeBlanc was just bemoaning the fact that he didn’t have anyone to help organize a fundraiser that LBC so desperately needs.”
Oh, dear God. That was not what he’d said. At all. But before he could correct the grievous misrepresentation that gave everyone the impression he was being a big baby about the tasks laid out for him, Laurel rushed on.
“I figured, this is Addy’s opportunity to really make a difference. Step up and show us all what she’s made of. You just do what Marjorie did and that’ll leave me free to help Mr. LeBlanc get some money flowing in. Are you good with that?”
When Adelaide smiled and clapped her hands like she’d just been given the biggest Christmas present, Xavier’s mouth fell open. Hastily, he closed it before anyone figured out that Laurel Dixon had just shocked the hell out of him. He didn’t shock easily, and it was even harder to remember the last time he’d been unable to control his expression.
The two women went back and forth on the logistics for a furious couple of minutes until Xavier couldn’t take it any longer.
“So, that’s it?” he interrupted. “Adelaide, you can do what Marjorie did and everyone’s good with that?”
Both women swiveled to stare at him. Laurel raised a brow. “Sorry, did we lose you again? Yes. Adelaide is in charge. She’ll do a fantastic job.”
Xavier should have asked more questions back in his office, like whether partner meant something different where Laurel had come from. When she’d thrown out the idea that they’d be working closely together, he’d reassessed his idea of how their interaction might go. And he’d come to the conclusion that perhaps she could come to him for approval on the budget, or maybe to get his help vetting new volunteers. That sort of thing.
He had not once suggested that she sign herself up to take over his inheritance test. That was his. He needed to prove to his father—and himself—that he could and would handle anything the old man threw at him. Ten million dollars was a cheap price to pay in order to get back on even ground, regain his confidence and lose the edge of vulnerability he’d been carrying since the reading of the will.
No one was allowed to get in the way of that.
“Excuse us, please,” he said to Adelaide through gritted teeth.
Pulling Laurel back into his office, he shut the door and leaned on it, half afraid she’d find a way to open it again despite the hundred and seventy-five pounds of man holding it shut.
Instantly, he realized his mistake.
Laurel’s presence filled the room, blanketing him with that otherworldly, mystical nonsense that he couldn’t think through.
“What the hell was all that about?” he demanded and couldn’t find a shred of remorse at how rough it came out. “You shuffled off all your duties to Adelaide—without asking, by the way. What, exactly, are you going to be doing?”
“Helping you, of course.” She patted his arm and the contact sang through his flesh clear to the bone. “We have a fundraiser to organize. Which I’m pretty sure is what I just said.”
The trap had been laid so neatly that he still hadn’t quite registered whether the teeth had closed around his ankle or not. “You don’t have enough experience fundraising.”
She shrugged. “I do have some. What’s your hang-up about experience? Adelaide doesn’t have any experience.” She accompanied that statement with air quotes. “But she’s been learning on the job for years by following Marjorie around. She’ll do great.”
“Running a charity takes an iron fist,” he shot back instantly. “Not an owl face and a lot of head nodding.”
Laurel just laughed. “Owl face? Better not let her hear that. Women who wear glasses don’t take kindly to name-calling.”
“I didn’t mean—” The headache brewing behind his eyes spread to his temples. “I called her an owl because she just stands there and looks wise. Instead of telling people what to do. I—Never mind.”
Laurel Dixon had officially driven him around the bend. And now Adelaide had just been given a promotion that she seemed super pleased with. He couldn’t take it away, though likely he’d have to spend a lot of time following her around to make sure she didn’t drive operations into the ground. Hiring Laurel had been one thing, because at least he could blame that on Val if it didn’t work out, but this was a whole other mess.
One he had no graceful way of undoing without upsetting the admin. Or Laurel, who might do God knew what as her next trick.
“Okay. Fine,” he ground out. “Adelaide is Marjorie. She’s going to be great. You’re going to help with fundraising. Are you going to be great, too?”
“Of course.”
She flipped a lock of hair over her shoulder again, and he couldn’t help but wonder why she wore it down when her hands were constantly fiddling with it. She should wear it up. Then he wouldn’t be tempted to put his own hands through it just to see if it felt as satiny and lush as it looked.
He crossed his arms. No point in tempting fate. “Fantastic. What’s the plan, General?”
“Nicknames already?” Her long eyelashes swept her cheeks as she treated him to a very long, pointed once-over that lingered in inappropriate places. “I thought that wouldn’t happen until much later in our association. Under...different circumstances.”
In bed, she meant. The implication was clear. And he definitely shouldn’t be feeling the spark of her suggestion in those inappropriate places. “It fit. Can’t help it.”
“Don’t worry. I like it.” The atmosphere in the office got a whole lot heavier as she stared at him. “And I like that you’ve already clued in that I don’t sit around and wait for things to happen to me.”
“I knew that a half second after Adelaide told me you were here for an interview that I hadn’t arranged,” he told her bluntly. “You’re an easy read.”
Something flitted through her gaze. A shadow. He couldn’t put his finger on what she had going on beneath the surface, but that gut-deep feeling told him again she had something to hide.
How many secrets might she spill if he did take her into his bed?
Once that thought formed, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wasn’t like that, not normally. But Laurel had barreled right through what he’d call his normal and redefined everything. Maybe he needed to return the favor.
“I’m pretty transparent,” she agreed readily, but another layer dropped into place over her expression.
She was a terrible liar. Or perhaps he was just incredibly tuned in to her, which didn’t seem to have a downside. Other than the one where he’d just been boxed into a corner and had no graceful way to avoid spending a lot of time in her company.
“I probably see more than you’d like,” he told her, and she blinked. This was a fun game. “For example, I’m pretty sure that you just maneuvered yourself into a position as my fundraising assistant because you can’t stay away from me.”
He didn’t believe that for a second, but he definitely wanted to hear what she’d say to counter it.
Her eyebrows inched up toward her hairline and she relaxed an iota. “Well, that’s a provocative statement. What if I said it’s true?”
Then she’d be lying again. She had a whole other agenda, one he hadn’t figured out yet, but if she wanted to work it like the attraction between them got top billing, he could play along. “I’d say we have a problem, then. We can’t get involved. It would be too...sticky.”
Her lips curved at his choice of words, as intended. “That’s a shame. I’m a fan of sticky.”
“Stickiness is for candy.” All at once, a very distinct image sprang into his head of her on his desk naked with a caramel melting on her tongue. His whole body went stiff. “I like it best when things are uncomplicated.”
At that, she snorted, moving in to lay a hand on his arm in the exact opposite of what this back-off conversation had been intended to convey. He’d wanted to catch her off guard but so far she’d held her own.
Reluctant admiration for this woman warred with bone-deep desire and flat-out irritation.
“Please,” she muttered with a sarcastic grin as she squeezed his forearm. “You’re the least uncomplicated man I’ve ever met. At least do me the courtesy of being honest about the fact that you’re not attracted to me, if that’s what’s going on.”
Oh, nicely played. She’d put the ball firmly in his court. He could take the out and claim he didn’t feel the heavy arousal that she could almost assuredly see for herself, giving her the opportunity to call him out as a liar. Or he could admit that she made him hotter than asphalt in a heat wave and call a truce.
He went with option three: ensuring she fully understood he didn’t dance to her tune.
“I don’t think honesty is on the table here. Do you?”
The atmosphere splintered as she stiffened, but to her credit, she kept a smile on her face. “Touché. We’ll go back to ignoring the chemistry, then.”
“That’s best.” And not at all what he’d been talking about, but he also hadn’t expected her to voluntarily blurt out her secrets. All in good time. “Now, about this fundraiser...”
“Oh, right.” Her hand dropped away from his arm—finally—and she got a contemplative look as if she really had given away her job with the intent of diving into his hell with gusto. “We should attend someone else’s fundraiser and take notes.”
“That’s—” he blinked “—a really good idea.”
One he should have thought of. That’s what he’d do in the diamond trenches. If another jewelry outlet had a strategy he liked, he’d study it. Why not apply the same to charity?
Laurel smiled, putting some sparkle in her silver-gray eyes. “I’ll start researching some possibilities and then we’ll take a field trip.”
Fantastic. If he couldn’t stay away from Laurel, then he’d settle for spending as much time in her company as he could until he figured out her agenda. If it was merely to indulge in their impossible-to-ignore chemistry, then he might find a way to be on board with that, as long as he could protect what was his at the same time.
Jury was still out on just how difficult she’d make it.
Four (#uba28fb67-c64b-56f4-a92d-253c8cdc896e)
By Friday, Adelaide had Xavier’s vote of confidence. She really had been studying at Marjorie’s side for quite some time, showing off a deep knowledge of all things LBC, and she made sound decisions without a lot of deliberation. The staff responded to her as if she’d always been in charge, and he liked her style.
Not that he’d tell her that. She managed to convey a fair amount of dislike for him with pretty much every word out of her mouth and sometimes without saying anything at all. It was impressive.
But it felt like LBC was running smoothly for the first time in forever. Since Marjorie had dropped her set of keys on his desk with a clank and turned on her heel. Maybe even before that. So he gave Adelaide a pass on the disdain. She didn’t have to like him as long as she did her job so he could do his. Or, at least, pretend to do his until he figured out how to turn the tide in his favor.
Laurel poked her head through his partially opened office door, sable hair swinging. “Why am I not surprised to find you behind your desk?”
“Because this is where I work?” he offered blithely.
In the week since he and Laurel had become “partners,” he’d learned that he had almost no shot at responding to a question like that to her satisfaction. He’d given up trying and went with the most obvious answer.
She made a noise with her tongue that could easily be mistaken for a ticking clock. “Because you’re hiding now that Addy has it all under control, more likely.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Must not be hiding well enough. You found me.”
“I was looking for you.” The rest of her body followed her head as she slid through the cracked door uninvited. “Probably I’m the only one who is, though.”
“For a reason, one would hope,” he shot back pointedly before she launched into yet another discussion about how he could do more to interact with the staff. Laurel’s job had somehow morphed from Services Manager to Fundraising Assistant to Xavier’s Keeper. He hadn’t figured out yet how to veer her back into something a little less invasive. “I am actually doing paperwork.”
If staring at paperwork counted, then it wasn’t so much of a lie. Otherwise, he’d stopped doing paperwork an hour ago and instead had been stewing about the latest fundraising numbers.
He was short. A lot. He had less than three months to raise north of seven million dollars and the near impossibility of the task writhed in his stomach like a greasy eel. As a result, he’d spent a lot of time sorting through fundraising ideas on his own, which was something he’d outsource to Laurel over his dead body.
The trick was engaging her enough so that she thought she’d snowed him into this partnership, when in reality, he only let her have enough rope to bind them very closely together—strictly so he didn’t miss whatever she had up her sleeve. Sharing the actual work with Laurel wasn’t happening.
Thus far, she hadn’t seemed to clue in. She barged into his office at her leisure to discuss what had become her pet project. He’d bet a hundred K that she’d spotted a notice in the society pages about the Art for Autism Association fundraiser tonight and she’d come by to announce she was dragging him along to it, pretending it wasn’t a date when, in reality, it was a great excuse to spend the evening together without admitting she wanted to.
He’d put up some empty protests and eventually let her think she’d talked him into it. Getting out from underneath the eyes at LBC sounded like an opportune way to dig a little deeper into Laurel Dixon and whatever it was about her that niggled at his suspicions.
She curled her lip at the printed pages under his fingers, eyeing the black type as if she could actually read it from that distance. “Good thing for you I have something much more exciting to put on your agenda. You’re taking me on a hot date tonight.”
Oh, God, yes. The scene spilled through his mind without an ounce of prompting. Laurel in a little black dress—backless, of course, designed to make a man’s mouth water—and sky-high heels that did amazing things to her legs. Her voice would be lowered enough to keep their conversation private. Hair down and brushed to a high gleam. She’d take his breath away the moment he opened the door and he’d never quite get his equilibrium back until maybe the next day...
What was he thinking?
Xavier sat back in his chair and crossed his arms with feigned nonchalance in case his initial—and so very inappropriate—response got too big to stay under his skin and started leaking out of his pores.
And this even though he’d known it was coming. It was just...she’d called it a date, after all, and in the process, uncovered his previously undiscovered craving to do it for real. What was he supposed to do with her?
Laurel was so much more dangerous than he’d credited.
“We’re not dating.” A token protest. It was only a matter of time before he figured out how to keep his wits about him as he seduced the truth out of her. Meanwhile, he had to play it like he still planned to keep her at arm’s length. All the balls they had in the air should be exhausting. “We’ve covered this.”
Instead, it was invigorating.
She waved it off. “Yeah, yeah. This isn’t a real date. You’re taking me on a field trip. I found a great foundation doing a unique fundraiser. Tonight.”
Pretending it was not a real date he could do. In fact, it got a righteous hallelujah. Silently, of course, but still. His arms relaxed and dropped into his lap. “Fantastic. Where?”
“Art gallery.” She glanced at her watch, her attention already galloping away from this conversation into whatever else was going on in her brain. “I called as your representative and they were more than happy to take your money. The lady even sent a courier over with the tickets. I have to leave now so I can pick up a dress and get my hair done. I have reservations at LaGrange at eight. Meet me there.”
Like hell. He did things the right way when it came to taking a woman to dinner. Especially one he wanted to keep close for more reasons than one. “We’ll need time to strategize. I’ll be at your house at seven thirty to pick you up.”
Her eyebrows lifted and he couldn’t help the smug sense of satisfaction that crept through him. Laurel wasn’t so easy to surprise. He’d have to repeat that a whole bunch more, simply because he liked the idea of knocking her off balance before she did it to him.
“Well, then, I have to say yes to strategizing.”
Innuendo dripped from her voice and the suggestion pinged around inside him, doing interesting things down below. He let the charged moment drag out because it suited him and then smiled. “Wear black.”
“Duh. You, too,” she suggested with a once-over that clearly said she found his jeans and T-shirt lacking in some way.
“I’ve been to my share of society events. I think I’m good.” Finally, he’d have a chance to slip back into his old self, the one that wore three-thousand-dollar suits to the office as a matter of course. He could even pull his Yacht-Master out of the box in his closet. “See you at seven thirty.”
She lifted her chin in amused acknowledgment that he’d won that round and took off to do whatever female rituals she’d lined up to get herself ready for tonight.
Xavier was dressed in his favorite tux by seven, but forced himself to cool his heels. Laurel did not need any ammunition, and showing up early would clue her in as to how much he’d been anticipating this not-a-date—and not just because he had an agenda of his own for the evening. He wanted to see her.
Labels were simply a mechanism to drive them both toward what they wanted using acceptable parameters. They’d be spending the evening together in formal wear, eating dinner and attending an art show, all of which could lead to something very good. Sure, it was pitched as an opportunity to scout out how another charity did fundraising, but they were both adults who shared a sizzling attraction.
There was no reason he couldn’t enjoy the results of seducing her, even if his motives weren’t entirely pure. Women who hid things didn’t get to be self-righteous about how their secrets came to light.
Besides, if she hadn’t wanted to play with fire, she’d have picked a fundraising field trip with a lot fewer matches. Like the 5k run through Highland Park that the Chicago Children’s Advocacy Center had on tap for tomorrow. No chance to get the slightest bit cozy in the middle of the day while sweating your butt off. Probably that’s what they should have signed up for.
But he had to be honest and admit that he liked a good fire, himself. As long as he was the one controlling the flame.
The moment he rang Laurel’s doorbell at 7:31, she swung it open as if she’d been standing there waiting. Clearly she had no qualms about letting him know she’d been eagerly anticipating his arrival. And then his brain registered the woman. Whatever illusion he’d cooked up that had given him the idea he might have the slightest iota of control vanished like smoke in a hurricane.
Holy hell. “Laurel...”
His brain couldn’t form coherent sentences after that. She was so far past gorgeous that she bordered on ethereal. Angelic. Something a man with far more poetry in his soul than Xavier LeBlanc would have to immortalize because all he could think was wow.
Black was Laurel’s color. There was something about it that paired with her skin and eyes to make both luminous. The dress was exactly the right length to be considered modest, but also to make a man wishful. And her stilettos—sexy enough to make his teeth ache along with the rest of his body.
“I got lucky,” she said with a laugh, like everything was fine and his entire world hadn’t just been knocked from its axis. “This was the first dress I tried on and the price tag wasn’t the equivalent of my mortgage.”
“It’s...” Perfect. But his tongue went numb. He swallowed. What the hell was wrong with him? It was just a dress. With a woman inside it. He’d participated in hundreds of similar scenarios where he’d picked up a date at her door.
But none of them had ever intrigued him as much as this one. None of them had irritated him beyond the point of reason. None of them had caught him off guard as many times in a row as Laurel. None of them had stirred something inside that he couldn’t explain or even fully acknowledge.
It was far past time to stop ignoring it and start figuring out how to deal with it.
Because he still didn’t trust her. No matter what. He couldn’t think of her as a hot date or he’d never regain an ounce of control—and he needed control to get through the evening. She was his companion for a fundraising research trip. Nothing more.
“You look great,” he said and cleared his throat. That husky quality in his voice would not do. “If you’re ready?”
He extended a hand toward the limousine at her curb and waited as she locked the door behind her, then he followed her down the sidewalk, trying to keep his eyes off her extremely nice rear. The dress wasn’t backless but it did dip down into a V beneath her hair, which she had worn down. She didn’t seem to ever put it up, which he appreciated. Hair like hers should never be hidden in a ponytail or bun.
And he’d veered right back into thinking of her as a woman instead of his partner in all things fundraising. The problem was that she wasn’t really his partner and he didn’t want her in that role. But he had to do something with her now that she’d shuffled off daily operations to Adelaide, if for no other reason than because Val liked her and had asked Xavier to keep her around. Dinner and an art show it was, then.
The atmosphere in the limo bordered on electric, and he cursed the fact that he’d specifically instructed his staff to skip the champagne because this wasn’t a date. It would have been nice to have something to occupy his hands.
Come on. You’re better than this.
“LaGrange is an interesting restaurant choice,” he said more smoothly than his still-tingling tongue should have allowed. “A favorite?”
Laurel shrugged, drawing attention to her bare shoulders. They were creamy and flawless, like her long legs. This field trip was either the worst idea ever conceived or sheer brilliance. He couldn’t decide which.
“I’ve never been able to score a table there, but oddly enough, when I throw your name around, people jump.” She winked. “Don’t judge, but I’m enjoying my ride on the Xavier LeBlanc train.”
Hell on a horse. The train hadn’t even left the station yet and she was already impressed? He bit back forty-seven provocative responses about what else might be in store for a woman on his arm and opted for what hopefully passed as a smile. “I know the owner of LaGrange. Not everyone jumps when I say jump.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” she murmured. “You seem like the type who takes no prisoners. Tell me about running LeBlanc Jewelers. I bet you’re magnificent in the boardroom.”
As ego strokes went, that one could have done some damage, but he’d caught the slightly off-color tinge to her tone. She was fishing for something. That alone put an interesting spin on the conversation. He couldn’t help but indulge her, mostly to see if he could trip her up enough to spill bits of her agenda.
“I’m magnificent in every room.” He let that sink in, gratified by her instant half smile that said she caught the innuendo. “But in the boardroom, I do my job. Nothing more.”
“So modest. I read up on LeBlanc Jewelers. It’s almost a billion-dollar company, up nearly 20 percent since you took over five years ago. That’s impressive.”
The reminder tripped some not-so-pleasant internal stuff that he’d rather not dwell on tonight. “Again. That’s my job. If I didn’t do it well, the board wouldn’t let me keep it. What about you? Once we organize a fundraiser for LBC and I go back to LeBlanc Jewelers, what do you envision yourself doing?”
Val wouldn’t keep her in the role of fundraiser, or, at least, Xavier didn’t think he would. Honestly, he didn’t know what Val might do and that was at least half Xavier’s problem. The inner workings of his brother’s mind had interested him even less than LBC, and that had left him clueless when thrust into this new role. Xavier had helped Val through some sticky mining contracts, and Val had sat in on the interview with Laurel, but then they’d drifted back into their respective corners. Their relationship didn’t feel any more cohesive. Maybe by design.

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