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Authors: Leigh Michaels

BOOK: The Billionaire Date
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Jarrett shrugged. “If you'd only taken me up on the idea of sleeping together, you could have spent the night at my place. And since my apartment happens to be just a few blocks from the television station, neither of us would have had to get up at such a ghastly hour.”
It really wasn't fair, Kit thought wryly, that he was not only early, but wide awake into the bargain. “Well, the part about
sleeping
isn't a bad idea.”
“Poor Kitten.” He sounded quite solicitous. “Aren't you resting well these days?”
Kit didn't bother to dignify that with a comment, figuring that he could perfectly well judge for himself. Jarrett, in contrast, looked as if he'd not only had a full night's sleep but had just stepped out of his tailor's shop. His topcoat was open over a trimly tailored dark blue suit that she'd never seen before. Every hair was in place, and his eyes held a good-humored sparkle that set the hairs on the back of her neck quivering in alarm.
It was simply not fair, Kit thought. There ought to be a law. No man should be allowed to be so good-looking and so incredibly sensual at that hour of the morning.
He looked around the tiny living room. “Cozy place.”
“You can say that again. But then I'm seldom here except to sleep, so it doesn't matter much.” She took her coat from the hall closet.
Almost absentmindedly, he held it for her. Even after Kit had slid her arms into the sleeves, however, he continued to hold the lapels. His hands lay lightly across her shoulders. When Kit turned her head in puzzlement to see what had absorbed his attention, her dangling earring brushed his wrist. The contact set off an electrical tingle that raced through every nerve in Kit's body.
You are a sad case, Deevers,
she told herself.
Kit couldn't seem to force herself to step away. It wasn't as if he was holding her. The weight of his hands was barely noticeable. But other things seemed to form a web that was more effective. His cologne was little more than a breath of scent, but it seemed to paralyze her. His warmth made her want to nestle against his body and close her eyes and relax....
There was a reason, Kit thought irritably, that executions by firing squad were always held at dawn. It was the hour when the human body was least able to put up a fight!
“If we're going to make it in time for the show, we'd better get going,” she said.
“What? Oh, I'm sorry—I was just admiring your taste in furniture.”
“Courtesy of an aunt who owned an antique shop.”
“Do. you mean the furniture or the taste?”
“Both, actually. She taught me to trust my instincts about what I like, and then she bought it for me wholesale.”
“Nice person to know.”
The air was still night-crisp, though the eastern sky was beginning to glow. As they walked toward the Porsche, Kit saw the first streetlight wink out as dawn approached.
Jarrett said abruptly, “I've been thinking, Kitten.”
“So early in the morning? That could be dangerous.”
“What have you planned for after the auction?”
“A champagne toast to celebrate my survival. Why? What have you got in mind?”
“It occurred to me that after all the excitement and hype, just saying thanks and sending everyone home might be a bit antictimactic—especially for the women who bought the dream dates.”
Kit frowned. “Now that you mention it... So what do you suggest we do instead?”
“We turn up the lights and have a party. It would be a chance for the buyers to meet their dates and for the women who didn't succeed in buying a package to wind down and have a good time anyway.”
“Great,” Kit said crisply. “You're in charge. And before you start fussing about the responsibility, remember that I only agreed to raise the money—and by the time the party starts, I'll have kept my part of the bargain.”
“Was I fussing? The party
was
my idea, after all.”
His tone was so mild, so cooperative, that every nerve cell in Kit's body began to shriek warnings. But she could hardly withdraw permission now. And no matter what he planned, a party after the auction surely couldn't hurt the outcome where fund-raising was concerned. Could it?
Dawn was streaking the sky as they passed the security guard at the back door of the television station. They were ushered into the green room to wait for their segment to begin. Jarrett got them each a cup of poisonouslooking coffee from a machine in the corner, but before Kit could try a sip, a young aide came to take them onto the set, and she gratefully set the cup aside.
The background was painted a vibrant blue, which made Kit's eyes hurt almost as much as did the bright lights. She could hardly concentrate on the host as he introduced himself, and there was barely time for a deep breath before the commercial break came to a close.
“There's nothing to be nervous about,” Jarrett said under his breath.
If you knew what I have in mind,
Kit thought,
you wouldn't be so certain of that.
The host began to talk about the auction and turned to Jarrett with his first question.
Kit tipped her head and looked at Jarrett with the shy, worshipful glow she'd practiced in her bathroom mirror for an hour last night. She only hoped she didn't look as silly as she felt.
Jarrett didn't seem to notice. “But those details are really Kit's part of the event,” he finished, and flashed a smile at her.
The host turned to Kit. “There's been some discussion in the press of disagreement between the two of you about the auction,” he said.
He couldn't have given her a better opening if she'd scripted it herself. Kit braced herself—it was now or never. “Oh, no. In fact...” She flashed the shy-butproud smile of a woman who's just gained her greatest desire and said, “Of course there's nothing
official
till after the auction, but Jarrett and I...” She paused and did her best to look adorably confused. “But I shouldn't have mentioned that here, should I, darling? About the engagement?”
Jarrett drew a sharp breath. Kit thought it quite likely, considering the sensitive microphone he was wearing, that viewers all over Chicago heard it just as clearly as she did. She wanted to cheer.
“You little
wretch,”
he said under his breath.
Kit clapped both hands over her mouth. She'd anticipated that he would be caught off guard, but she'd never dreamed he would react so strongly. She only hoped the laugh she was trying so hard to stifle would look like badly handled hysteria.
Jarrett seized her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. “All I can say is—” His other arm slid around her shoulders with the taut strength of a steel cable.
He had pulled her slightly off balance, so she was leaning into him, and with his left hand still holding both her wrists, there was no way for Kit to get enough leverage to free herself.
All right,
a little voice at the back of her brain whispered.
How are you going to maneuver yourself out of this one, Deevers?
Then Jarrett's mouth came down firmly on hers, and Kit forgot all about struggling. The kiss she had imagined in her office yesterday had been powerful enough to light up Chicago, but the reality was enough to blow every electrical grid in the country.
Kit's heart seemed to shudder to a halt. Time itself slowed till cold molasses would have seemed speedy in comparison.
Not that Kit cared. Her world had narrowed until it held only the taste of him, the scent of him, the feel of him. And when eventually he stopped kissing her, Kit's eyes wouldn't focus, and breathing was nothing more than a dim memory. If it hadn't been for his arm still tight around her, she'd probably have slid off her chair.
Jarrett released her wrists and gently shook a fingertip in her face. “Keeping me in suspense like this and then giving me my answer on television.” He turned to the host and added calmly, “Don't you think she's a wretch to do that?”
The host was opening and closing his mouth like a fish gasping for oxygen.
Kit hadn't realized how hot it was on the set. She was burning up. She wanted to fan herself, but the muscles in her arms didn't seem to work anymore.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first,” the host said finally. “I suppose this means you won't be offering a package after all, Jarrett? I mean, since you're pretty much taken now—”
Jarrett smiled at Kit, still leaning helplessly against his shoulder. “Oh, I've certainly been
taken,”
he murmured.
With the speed and clarity of the visions experienced by drowning swimmers, Kit suddenly saw the Dream Dates Auction going down the drain. All her planning, her work and her effort were in vain, because she'd miscalculated so badly when she'd planned this prank. And she'd handed Jarrett the perfect opportunity not only to get out of the auction, but to make her look like an incompetent fool in the bargain.
Which was exactly what he'd wanted from the beginning.
“Oh, not at all,” he said cheerfully. “Kit's a wonderful, understanding, terrific woman, and she's in full support of this excellent cause. That's why she said that we won't make anything absolutely official till afterward.”
“Oh.” The host, obviously at sea, looked toward the control room as if he wanted to beg for help. “Well, thank you two for—”
Jarrett went on relentlessly. “Naturally, this confirms my suspicion that she's been planning all along to bid for me. And I'm sure it'll be safe for everyone else at the auction to offer any amount of money, since—under the circumstances—my Kitten obviously plans to top all other bids. I'm right, aren't I, Kit?”
“Umm—” Kit said.
Jarrett looked at her lovingly. He did it, Kit thought irritably, with tremendous skill—far more than she'd displayed when she'd tried earlier to put across her shy and worshipful gaze.
“But of course you will,” Jarrett went on smoothly. “Because you wouldn't want to let any other woman go with me on our honeymoon—would you, darling?”
They were hardly outside the station before Jarrett leaned against the cinder-block wall of the building and burst into raucous laughter. “The look on your face, Kitten—”
Kit tapped her toe on the pavement. “Dammit, Jarrett, that was not fair!”
“Oh? And what you did
was
, I suppose?”
She bit her lip.
“That's what I thought. Come on, darling, let's declare ourselves even. One thing about it, you won't have any trouble filling that ballroom now.”
He was right about that much. “Exactly,” Kit said. “Wasn't it clever of me to think of that stunt? And of course, I'm so pleased that you had the wit to play along.”
“Right,” Jarrett said dryly. “I'm sure you had it planned out in advance, down to the last detail. Tell me, darling—was that the sort of kiss you had in mind, or do you want to show me a more effective style?”
The very idea of kissing him again made Kit's insides feel like melted marshmallows. “It was good enough to get by.”
He swept her a bow. “Halfhearted praise from you, my dear, is better than a gold medal from the ordinary woman.”
Kit almost added that no amount of practice would do him any good, but just in time she thought better of the jab. Such a feeble thrust wasn't likely to pierce Jarrett's self-confidence. Besides, she realized that what she'd intended as insult was probably true—obviously he didn't have much left to learn about the art of the kiss.
Outside Tryad's brownstone, Jarrett parked the Porsche by the fireplug, helped Kit out and said goodbye.
She was relieved that he wasn't going to be sitting beside her desk all day, but she couldn't help taking one more jab at him. “Leaving so soon? I thought you were going to devote the rest of this week to the auction, and there's still four full business days left.”
“I just have to run an errand or two, but I'll be back. And then I'll be working very hard, indeed.” His voice was a soft drawl. “After all, I still have to plan—how shall I say it?—the honeymoon you deserve.”
 
 
An hour later Kit was still shuffling papers and trying to concentrate when she heard the front door slam and the distinctive sound of Susannah's step on the stairway.
Susannah didn't even take off her coat or set her briefcase down before she came into Kit's office. “And you call me the creative one!” she announced.
“I take it you saw the television show?”
“At my wildest, I'd never have pulled anything that crazy.”

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