Rules of Negotiation (7 page)

Brit glanced at the heavy silver Rolex at his wrist. “It’s only noon. Plenty of time. Why don’t I take you for a quick tour of the city?”

“That sounds lov—” Jerry began.

“We may be able to get out earlier if we go to the station now,” Tori said. The last thing in the world she needed was to sit in a small car with Brit. “Much as I appreciate the offer, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But we’ve got reservations on the Acela,” Jerry said, grinning all the wider. “I refuse to ride any other train. Besides, it’s not every day you get the opportunity to see the city with such a distinguished guide. Tori, you blocked out the day on your calendar, didn’t you?”

What was he thinking? Tori narrowed her gaze. As Jerry slid his hands in his pockets, he could not have looked more like the cat that swallowed the canary.

He was trying to set her up.

“Maybe. That doesn’t mean I don’t have work to do,” she said.

“I promise I’ll get you to the station on time,” Brit told her, one hand reaching out briefly to touch her elbow.

The contact shot through her like a painful, tingling shock. She gritted her teeth and maintained the smile. “How very kind of you.”

“No problem at all,” Brit replied. He motioned toward a phone on a table against the wall. “Please excuse me for a moment. I’ll have something set up for us.”

When he stepped away, Tori glared at Jerry. “What are you thinking? Are you trying to throw me at him?”

Jerry feigned astonishment. “What do you mean? You told me you two had a perfectly nice dinner. You’re friends now, right?”

Tori glanced away. “Friends isn’t really the right word.”

“Surely not more than friends?” Jerry widened his eyes.

“Well…” Tori adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

Jerry chuckled. “Betsy told me about the roses. A very nice touch.”

“Betsy told you
what
?” She had taken the roses home specifically to avoid comments and questions. Betsy was in huge trouble.

“I am a little hurt that you didn’t tell me personally, but really, I don’t mind gossiping with your secretary.”

Great, now she was being punished for telling Betsy about Brit, but not Jerry. She should have known the two would talk about her.

Brit hung up the phone and rejoined them, forestalling her response. “My assistant is working out the details. First, we need lunch. After that, a quick trip to the Museum of Modern Art. I never miss an opportunity to look at
The Starry Night
. That should give us time to get to the helipad at four, and we’ll get you to your train after that.”

“Helipad?” Jerry asked, his blond eyebrows twitching with interest.

“The only way to see the city if you’re on a short timeline. We’ll fly by the Empire State building and check out Ms. Liberty close up. You’ll love it.”

“Those things don’t look safe,” Tori said. “Are there even seatbelts in a helicopter? I made a resolution this year never to wear a parachute to work.”

“You won’t be jumping out,” Brit said. “You’ll be sitting in a comfortable seat. Looking at the sites. It’s actually very peaceful.”

“I prefer to see my sites from the ground,” Tori said.

“What are you talking about?” Jerry asked. “The other day you were telling me how you loved going up to the observation deck on top of City Hall. You said it felt peaceful.”

“That’s different. That’s not a helicopter,” she said.

“You’ll be fine.” Brit motioned toward the door. “We’d better get going. We’ve got a lot to do.”

Tori turned her back on both men. She was being outmaneuvered, and she didn’t like it one bit.

Chapter Eight

As much as Tori was determined to stay irritated with Jerry, lunch proved lighthearted and enjoyable. They dined at a restaurant called Verve, a tiny establishment with an air of exclusivity and a cheerful, colorful décor. The tables were art deco red, the chairs a lemony yellow, and expressive, abstract paintings covered the walls. They were the only people in the room wearing suits. Tori saw a woman carrying a baby in a backpack, and a gorgeous couple she could have sworn had appeared in a previous week’s edition of
People
magazine.

The prices would have made Tori gasp if Brit had not insisted on footing the bill. She ordered a panini sandwich with a pesto aioli that made her mouth tingle with the perfect combination of basil and garlic, and a salad of grated root vegetables. Jerry feasted on a pork sandwich served with a pineapple and cranberry chutney and thick, homemade french fries.

As she expected, Brit and Jerry had a lot in common. They traded insults about each other’s sports teams and discussed their running regimens (both had completed a marathon years ago, but agreed that their “old” bones didn’t relish the activity the way they once had). Tori stayed quiet and observed Brit. Though he had shed his air of businesslike reserve within minutes of leaving the Excorp building, he retained the mantle of power and authority, easily commanding the attention of everyone around him. The owner of the restaurant, Sam Huo, came out to say hello after their meal had been served. He was a thin, animated man with a heavy accent and a habit of kissing the hand of every woman who entered the restaurant.

Jerry seemed to delight in poking fun at Brit, which was the best evidence that he was enjoying Brit’s company. He asked Brit about the rumor that Excorp was planning to buy Starbucks to cement its plans for world domination, and questioned the need for a private health club, complete with squash courts and a swimming pool, in the basement of the Excorp tower.

Brit handled it all with a good-natured smile. After enduring a number of pointed comments from Jerry, he turned things around and began to ask questions of his own. “Tell me more about Technix,” he said, in that soft voice that was only inches from being a command. “I know what’s in your materials, but tell me the real story. How you got started. Surely there’s an interesting twist or two in there.”

He spoke primarily to Jerry. Tori had been avoiding the conversation by eating far more than she wanted or intended. Any time Brit asked her a question, she shook her head and pointed to her full mouth to excuse her inability to speak.

The truth was, she had no idea how to handle the situation. Brit was devilishly smart, confident, and attractive. She couldn’t bring herself to believe he truly wanted her. And even if she could, what then? Did she really have the guts to have a fling with a man like Brit?

Tori shoved the tail end of her sandwich into her mouth.

“It’s really not particularly exciting,” Jerry said. “Technix began as an idea in my basement. I wanted to combine my work at Columbia in artificial intelligence with the computer security field. I had no idea what I was doing. In that, Technix wasn’t very different than any other high-tech start-up. The difference for me was having a great lawyer.” Jerry patted Tori’s shoulder. “Tori understood my dream. She got me financing when everyone said my idea for a new type of security software was a pipe dream. Had to go to Japan and Australia to do it, but Tori’s a bulldog. We went through two rounds of investing before the technology was commercial, and two more after that. You’ve purchased the product of four years of sleepless nights, for both me and Tori.”

Tori swallowed the last bite of her salad hastily, feeling compelled to speak. “Don’t let Jerry fool you. He showed me his designs for an AI security system, and I knew I wanted to be involved. Technix was too good to stay hidden for long. I was lucky he let me represent the company.”

“Quit trying to be modest,” Jerry said. “I don’t know how many hours you put in for free. It’s not like you were being paid for travel time.”

“It’s not like I was being paid for anything,” Tori said drily. In the beginning, Jerry didn’t have more than the shirt on his back, a fantastic idea, and the skill and intelligence to make that dream come true. She didn’t charge him for years. “Money had nothing to do with it. I knew Jerry deserved to succeed, and I wanted to be there when he did.”

“And so you are,” Brit said. “Sounds like you’ve been a busy woman for the past few years, Tori. It isn’t as though Technix was your only client.”

“I can’t imagine anything I’d rather be doing than working with people like Jerry,” she said truthfully.

Brit tapped one long finger on the top of his glass. “Really?” he drawled. “I can think of lots of things I’d rather do than work.”

Tori bent over her plate. Damn it, nothing left to eat. She took a long drink of water instead.

“Not Tori,” Jerry said. “She’s a machine. I’ve never seen her miss a day of work, except when her mother—”

“Goodness, it is getting late,” Tori said, pointing at her watch with a fake smile. “We’ll want to leave soon if we expect to get through MoMA.” She kicked Jerry under the table. Her mother was private business. Brit Bencher certainly didn’t need to know about her. But Jerry wasn’t paying any attention. The theme from
Star Wars
—his favorite movie—filled the air. He pulled his cell phone out of a pocket and answered as he moved away from the table.

“You and Jerry seem to have formed a mutual admiration society.” Brit folded his napkin and placed it on his empty plate, then leaned back in his chair.

“Yes, we’re very close.” Tori had a sudden, delicious fantasy of seeing Brit jealous over her relationship with Jerry.

“How close?” he asked.

“Very close,” she repeated, though with less conviction. She wished she had the courage to spin a good story, but unfortunately, Jerry would not be above exposing her lie, if Brit brought it up.

“I see.” Brit smiled with satisfaction. “So you aren’t…”

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

His smile grew wider. “Of course it is. I like Jerry. I wouldn’t want to poach in his territory.”

“Oh, that’s vile.” She dropped her napkin on the table. “As if I’m some sort of possession the two of you could split between you.”

“Not at all,” he protested. “I never had any intention of splitting you. Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. I want you all to myself.” He reached across the table to brush his fingers against hers.

She shied and pulled away, crossing her legs and pushing back from the table. “Look,” she said, “I’m here with Jerry. This really isn’t a good time.”

“Not a good time?” The suggestive gleam in his eyes made Tori dig her nails into her palm. “What about later tonight?”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me earlier. I’ve got a reservation. On a train. Back to Philadelphia.”

Brit tapped his finger against his mouth as he observed her. “There’s a jazz trio playing at the Club Hantro this evening that I know you’ll like. Forget the train. Stay with me.”

Tori’s stomach dropped into her toes. This was it. No more stalling.

Stay, or go?

Jerry reappeared, saving her once again from the decision. His mouth was pinched, a high flush staining his cheekbones. “That was Cindy. She’s in trouble again.”

Tori melted. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.” Jerry’s troubled younger sister Cindy bounced between drug rehab and jail, with a good dose of trouble thrown in at either end.

“She’s in Houston. I’m going straight to the airport and getting the first flight there.”

Brit didn’t ask questions. He rose and pulled out his phone. “I’ll talk to my assistant. I think we’ve got an Excorp jet headed there this afternoon. Let me take care of it.”

Twenty minutes later, Jerry was in a cab on his way to Kennedy while Brit and Tori sat back down to finish their coffee at Verve. Tori watched Jerry go with mixed emotions—scared for him, terrified for herself. She was now alone with Brit—and the last of her excuses for putting him off had vanished.

“So,” he asked, as soon as they were alone. “You’re staying, right?”

His raw confidence dragged across Tori’s pride like a set of nails down a chalkboard. “Actually,” she drawled, stirring one more lump of sugar into her coffee, “I’m not sure I can. I had planned to go into the office this weekend.”

“But you won’t.”

“I won’t?” she repeated, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “Says who?”

“Tori.” He sounded patient, weary. “This is getting silly. We are going to look at some art and take a tour of the city. Then we’re going to go back to my apartment and finish what we started last week.”

“Hmph.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Women do whatever you want, don’t they?”

“Not all the time. Sometimes they say ‘maybe another time’ and leave me wanting.”

So polished. So perfect. And I’m supposed to believe this crap?

“Are you determined to scowl at me like that?” Brit asked.

She pushed out her chin. “Yes. And if you don’t like it, you can send me back to Philly right now.”

“Well then, I’m afraid you’ve forced me to do this.” He stood up and held out his hand.

She stared at it suspiciously. “What?”

“Come with me.” He wiggled his fingers.

“Where?”

“To Sam’s office. He won’t mind. We’ve got to get something straight between us.”

Tori swallowed, hard. Brit’s jaw hardened as he waited for her to take his hand. Something compelled her to drop her palm into his. She closed her eyes at the warm sensation that followed.

Stumbling, she allowed him to lead her back through the kitchen. It was an open room almost as big as the restaurant, filled with the odors of garlic, hot oil, and baking bread. Enormous skylights bathed them in bright sunlight. Sam was there, talking to a man who was cleaning a stainless steel countertop that stretched the length of the room.

“Sam, do you mind if we borrow your office?” Brit asked.

“Of course not,” Sam replied, the hint of a question in his barely raised eyebrows.

“We won’t be long.”

Tori gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to take back her hand and run out of the restaurant. But, damn her cowardly soul, she didn’t have the guts to make a scene, and she had the feeling Brit wouldn’t let her get away so easily. He led her to a private office with an oversized leather armchair in one corner and a tidy desk in another. A light with a beaded shade cast a soft glow in the small space, and a faint odor of incense gave the room an exotic feel. Brit closed the door behind them and turned the lock.

Tori backed against the desk, immediately pinned by the intensity of Brit’s stare. “So, what—” Her voice trembled and she cleared her throat before beginning again. “What exactly did you want to tell me?”

“I don’t want to tell you anything. I said we had something we needed to get straight. This is it.”