Instructing an Heiress (6 page)

"Undo a few of those buttons," he said.

Her blush deepened. "Out of the question."

Ryan peered thoughtfully at her breasts. She was breathing heavily and he could see the rise and fall of gentle mounds under the thick material of the blouse. "What are you hiding, CK?"
 

Her mouth pressed into a tight line and she pulled against his grip.
 

"What size are you?"

She froze and stared at him, her expression shocked. "I'm not telling you that!"

"I would have said a B at best, but now..."

"I don't have to answer you. And stop staring at me...there," she choked out.

"Attractive packaging carries a big marketing punch. What size are you?"

She lifted her chin. "I'm a B. Like you said."

"I don't think so. Unbutton."

"No."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you hiding?"

She caught her full bottom lip between even white teeth and looked away.
 

"I'm perfectly capable of taking your shirt off."

Her violet eyes flashed defiance at him and then her gaze skittered away, again."I'm...a bit bosomy, okay?"

Interest fired up low in his belly, but he pushed it away. "Nope. Not buying it."

Her brows drew down into a sudden slash of anger and she wrenched free of his grip. Planting her palms on his chest, she gave him a sharp push, sending him back a step.
 

"I wear a minimizer and stop staring at my chest."

"A what?"

"It makes you look smaller."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

She made a low growl of frustration in the back of her throat.
 

Ryan absently rubbed the tingling spot where she'd touched him and studied her contours, trying to decipher the mystery. "What size are you really?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "None of your business."

"You made it my business when you signed the contract."
 

She stared angrily at a point beyond his shoulder.

She wasn't a large woman, fairly average actually. Maybe a size ten? Hard to tell, the way she kept herself covered up. How much of a rack could she be keeping hidden?

"Spill, CK," he said.

"I'm a 32D," she spat out, nailing him with her angry gaze. "Happy now?"

Ryan's breath shuddered to a stop as his fertile imagination provided him with a sudden, lush image of magnificent breasts bobbing gently above a slim, flat stomach and softly flaring hips.
 

His mouth went stone dry and key places came instantly to attention, pushing insistently against the boundaries of his slacks.
 

"This is exactly why I've always down played my size. Get a hold of yourself, Anderson. You look like you're about to choke on your tongue."

He sucked in a tight breath and forced his gaze back up to her face. "I'm just surprised." He turned away and casually walked behind the chair where he'd tossed her jacket. "Normal reaction."

"Hair is down, jacket is off, meeting starts in ten. We're done, here."

She marched to her desk, snatched up the thick Wayland report and strode out of her office, her back rigid with indignation.
 

Without the jacket covering everything up, Ryan couldn't take his eyes off the round, firm, rhythm of her butt moving under her skirt. He'd had no idea she even had a figure. What other mysteries might CK be hiding?
 

He swallowed and adjusted himself, vainly attempting to ease his discomfort. Probably wouldn't be too smart of him to try and find out, he decided.
 

On the bright side, his current itch had bought him some valuable information. Information he could leverage.

Ryan picked up the jacket lying in a heap on the arm of the chair and checked at the label. Size eight. Huh. He'd always thought of her as more substantial. Maybe because she was taller than average. Or her feisty personality.
 

The erotic vision of CK spilled into his thoughts, again, this time with long, shapely legs and her head thrown back in wild ecstasy. His cooling libido flared to rip-snorting life, sending a brain-numbing shot of lust straight up his body.
 

Ryan crossed to the small refrigerator camouflaged in the paneling that covered the back wall of her office. Snagging several pieces of crushed ice, he pressed them to the back of his neck.

The cold bit into his skin and he sucked in a breath. Disgust over his reaction finished him off and after a moment, he had himself under control.

It wasn't so much that he wanted CK, he reasoned as his mind cleared. It was more the impact of finding out she was, well, a girl. Not that he didn't know that, but, damn it, this was CK. CK with assets.

Ones he could use to accomplish his goal, he reminded himself. He needed to focus on how he could take advantage of her aversion to showing off what would clearly get her a lot of attention.

He threw the half-melted ice into the sink and grabbed one of the neatly folded hand towels from the basket next to it. He was CK's friend and it was his duty to stop her from making the worst mistake of her life. Random, lust-filled blackouts hadn't changed that.
 

Ryan fingered the jacket in his other hand. Although they did make him less willing to expose her to other guys swallowing their tongues.

If he could find a way to show her what dogs most men were without actually having her interact with them, that might be enough. All under the guise of feminine wiles 101, of course.
 

A smile tugged at his mouth and relief eased through him. He knew just the place to take her that night.
 

*
 
*
 
*

CK barreled out of her office, fury burning through her like a wildfire. Her hair bounced around her shoulders, reminding her with every step of the humiliation Ryan had put her through.

She felt naked without her jacket. Vulnerable. She didn't like it one little bit. And the way he'd stared at her! Playing around and testing her was one thing, but the look on his face? That had taken male mojo to a whole new frightening level.
 

His eyes had seemed to burn straight through her clothes like she wasn't even wearing any. She'd seen that expression on him plenty of times, but never directed at her. Always it was other women, girls he casually seduced and then ignored when he moved on to his next conquest.

She would
not
be another notch in his belt, despite the way her stomach had flipped over like a hot coal when he'd touched her breast. A quiver of excitement skated through her belly. She mentally slapped it away.
 

She was smarter than this. Smarter than all those other women who fell for his seduction and then had their hearts broken.
She
was the one still standing.
She
was the one he checked on when she was sick, and had dinner with on Sunday, and joked around with. A little spat of insanity was not going to ruin that for her.

Farley glanced up from her computer and a slow grin spread over her face. "Heard you two arguing. Didn't know it had gone so far."

"So far as what?" CK grumped, gathering up the rest of the contract copies from Farley's desk

One dark brow lifted higher. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Nothing happened."

"Something did. Where's your jacket?" Farley asked.

"I was hot."

"So's Ryan. Come on, tell me everything."

"I decided a change might be nice. Are the Wayland's here, yet?"

The elevator door opened and Steve and Mr. Wayland stepped off.
 

"Yes," Farley said, making no attempt to suppress her smile as she turned back to her computer. Somedays, CK really didn't know why she kept her on.

The Waylands strode toward her, both men close to six feet with dark brown eyes and square, solid faces. Steve's short hair was thick and dark brown. His father's was gray and he kept it a little shaggy around the ears and neck. Where Steve was lanky and slim, his father was more beefy, his middle clearly reflecting decades of good living.
 

They crossed the reception area, smiles at the ready. When they caught site of CK, their steps stuttered, slowing until they came to a dumbfounded stop in front of her.

Mr. Wayland's gaze warmed with appreciation as it slid over CK. She forced out a welcoming smile.
 

"Mr. Wayland, so nice to see you, again." She held out her hand to him.

He clasped it in a firm, calloused grip. "Likewise, little lady," he said in his thick, Texan accent. He held onto her a little longer than necessary, then turned to his son. "She's as pretty as a picture."

Steve's consternation shifted into uncertainty. "The meeting is today, isn't it?" His gaze traveled over her hair and body and his brows knit together.

Heat tightened across cheeks. Steve was a stickler for professionalism, which had never been a problem for her before. He also didn't care for change. She'd learned that in the months of negotiating and convincing him this merger was good for both of their companies.

"I...." She cleared her throat. "Coffee spill. Lunch." She glanced at Farley. "Would you mind calling Syrenti's? Have them come and pick up my jacket for cleaning."

"Certainly ma'am. Consider it done," Farley answered, a twinkle in her eyes.
 

"I like it," Wayland boomed. "Should wear your hair down more often. Right Stevie, boy?" He gave his son a hearty slap on the back and grinned.
 

Steve stumbled forward a step and CK found herself staring at his green striped tie. She lifted her gaze and was amazed to see a dark flush creeping over his face.
 

He blinked and moved back hastily. "It's...very nice, Ms. Kazner. I have another meeting at four. If you don't mind?"

Steve Wayland blushing? Over her hair! CK couldn't quite get her mind around it. Could Ryan have been right? Were even sensible males complete idiots when it came to certain basic female attributes?
 

"By all means. Gentlemen, if you'll follow me?" She smiled politely and headed for the conference room, a small flame of hope springing to life in her chest.

Maybe meeting her grandfather's demands wouldn't be as hard to do as she'd feared. Maybe all she needed was to relax and trust Ryan, and everything would work out.

He knew how important this was to her and had her best interests at heart, she reminded herself; even when he irritated the mess out of her. She should have more confidence in him.
 

She had nothing to worry about. Ryan would make this work.

*
 
*
 
*

Wayland watched his son and CK walk off toward the conference room. He'd noticed his boy's blush and it had given him the first glimmer of hope he'd had in a long time.
 

Who would have thought she'd have some looks about her? He shook his head in amazement. He sure couldn't have been more surprised if she'd sat up and started howling at the moon.
 

He hadn't even known she had a head of hair and a figure. Well, he knew she wasn't bald, but he'd always thought she kept it real short. Kind of like a boy. Having it down softened her. Made her seem more approachable.

Yes, sir, maybe Miss Kazner really would be the one to bring Steve out of his shell, just like he'd hoped. His heart warmed at the thought. Nothing would make him happier than seeing his boy settled down in a good relationship.

A laugh tickled to life under his ribs as he ambled into the conference room. CK was all business now, laying copies of the merger onto the table with Steve avoiding looking at her in his usual, clueless way.

Wayland wasn't fooled. His kid still had a pink flush to his face and CK moved with a self-conscious flirtation that he hadn't seen since his days in middle school.
 

The young people were more on the same page than either one of them realized—both green as grass. But there was potential here. By God, if there wasn't.

If this was where she could learn how to attract a man, she was even more ignorant about the whole song and dance between genders than she thought.

CK inched closer to the limo, uncertainty rolling around in her stomach. The red lettering of the bar sign blazed above the painted-over, barred windows, flickering every now and then like an artificial flame. A homeless man slouched against the wall a few yards from the door, his hat pulled down over his face, maybe resting, maybe passed out.
 

Nothing about this said "learning how to catch a man" to her. On the other hand, what did she know about it? Next to nothing, that's what.

After the meeting, she'd spent the rest of the day working on her new line of products for the European market. Other than pulling her hair back into a quick ponytail, she hadn't had time to change. In her vintage Christian Dior blouse and navy skirt she stuck out almost as much as the limo did.
 

A shiver ran up her back.
Stop being silly
, she told herself. There was nothing to worry about. She was in Brooklyn, for goodness sake. This close to Flushing, how bad could it be? Her fears were just a reaction to learning something new. Part of the process. New school jitters.
 

Ryan had been right before and he was probably right about this, too. She had to trust him.

She checked the text from him, again, and then eyed the beat-up building. She had the correct address, but no explanation as to why she was supposed to meet him here. Her tension coiled tighter. She
really
didn't feel comfortable here.

Trust only went so far. CK turned to get back in the limo.
 

Headlights flashed behind her and then washed over the Jag. A car purred up to the curb across the street and glided to a stop. A burgundy Porsche. Ryan's car.

He stepped out, a cocky grin on his face and a Wa Jeal take-out bag in his hand. Tousled and charming in jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt, he shut the car door, beeped it locked, and then jogged across the street to her. He looked quite pleased with himself.