The Billionaire Date (8 page)

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Authors: Leigh Michaels

BOOK: The Billionaire Date
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“The difficulty,” Alison pointed out, “is what we do about it now.”
“Oh, that's simple. We pitch in and help make it a success.” Susannah slid off the radiator and started up the stairs. “I'll go call Pierce right now.”
The front door latch clicked. Rita was coming to work right on time, Kit thought, moving away from the entrance so the secretary could open the door.
On the third step Susannah wheeled. “Unless—what is it you lose if you don't come up with the ten thousand bucks, Kit?”
Kit was the first to see that Rita wasn't alone. Behind her, filling the doorway, was Jarrett, tall and dark and elegantly turned out in a charcoal gray suit and the whitest shirt Kit had ever seen.
“Didn't she tell you?” he asked easily. “She's going to sleep with me.”
“Oh, in that case,” Susannah said brightly, “I
won't
call Pierce.” With a swirl of her skirt, she disappeared up the stairs.
Alison shook her head. “I
said
I didn't want to know,” she muttered as she retreated to her office.
Rita quietly went to her desk, put away her handbag, touched up her hair and turned on her computer.
Kit was left in the center of the entrance hall, face to face with Jarrett, who seemed quite content to stand quietly with one hand braced on the golden oak door frame and watch her.
“What are you doing here?” she said finally. “If you want to call a halt to this—”
“I'd have done it last night.”
“No, you wouldn't. You'd have looked like a fool.”
“Which was exactly what you were hoping for, wasn't it?”
Kit didn't answer.
“So now you're stuck with the bachelor auction.” She lifted her chin. “It's a great idea, and I'm looking forward to getting on with it. As you pointed out, I have only twelve days and a lot of things to do. So state your business and get out, so I can go to work. At least, I assume you have something to say? You didn't just cruise by so you could drop that bombshell about me sleeping with you?”
“That's what you call a bombshell?” He shook his head sadly. “Kit, dear, I'm afraid you may be in for some surprises. I came to ask how I can help make this auction a success.”
“Oh, sure. As if you intended to do anything at all.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Why wouldn't I? After all, what's most important just now? I'd say it's that we raise all the money we can for a good cause.” He sounded almost pious, but Kit didn't miss the sparkle in his eyes. “So I'm going to help in every way I can.”
“And commit a little sabotage on the side?”
“You're a suspicious sort, aren't you, Deevers?”
“You can't deny you'd like to see me lose.”
He paused as if to consider the question. “Well, there would be certain benefits to me—”
Kit felt her face begin to warm.
I will not dignify that crazy statement of his by commenting on it again,
she told herself.
“But I suppose it would be selfish of me to put my personal preferences ahead of the greater good.” He nodded, as if he'd convinced himself of something critical. “So I'll pitch in and do my best.”
Right
, Kit thought.
Like I'm going to believe him
. “I'll have to think about what you might be able to do,” she said mildly. “Later, of course, when we have the program in order, you can make copies and fold and staple them. But for now—oh, I have it. I'll start you calling the list of grocers to ask if they'll donate snacks. That'll take a couple of days, at least, so come on up, and I'll find you a phone and the yellow pages and get you started.”
It was the first time she'd ever seen him come close to losing his composure, and Kit had to exert all her self-control to keep her face straight.
Jarrett glanced at the gold Rolex on his wrist. “I'm afraid you misunderstood, Kit.”
She feigned shock. “You didn't plan to plunge in right this minute?”
“I think I've mentioned next year's lingerie collections? I just realized I'm late for a meeting with my design team.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Kit murmured. “Well, whenever you have a few minutes to volunteer, I'll be happy to see you. There'll be plenty of work for you.”
That
, she thought with satisfaction,
should keep him out of my hair for a day or two at least.
“And just think,” she said mildly. “It'll be a much greater satisfaction for you if you've given me every opportunity and all the help you can—and I blow it and fail anyway.”
He grinned. “Exactly. You know, I am impressed by how clearly you see things, Kit.” With a little bow, he pulled open the massive front door and was gone.
Kit took the stairs two at a time and shut the door of her office firmly behind her. She crossed the room in three strides and tugged two sharp-pointed darts from the big corkboard where she'd posted last month's Milady Lingerie ad.
Her first throw was slightly off, landing in Jarrett's left nostril. The second hit dead center, right between his eyes.
How clearly she saw things—indeed.
Unfortunately, the thing that was clearest to Kit was that the situation was only going to get worse.
 
The evening newspapers were even more wildly speculative about the Dream Dates Auction than the morning ones had been. Though Kit had long known that Jarrett was news in any context at all, she was stunned at the quick turn the talk had taken.
One of the society columnists had gone so far as to start calling Chicago's prominent bachelors to see who was involved. Most of them, to Kit's relief, had refused to answer either way instead of denying all knowledge of the auction. It seemed, Kit thought, as if they were waiting to see whether the Dream Dates affair was going to be the stylish event of the year or some crazy plan that no one with sense would take part in. It was obvious she'd have to move fast. She had to have something dramatic to announce, and soon—or the no comments would change into denials, and that would be death to the whole plan.
Susannah poked her head into Kit's office at the end of the day and caught her rereading the society column. “Maybe you should send that columnist a thank-you note for making out your list for you.”
Kit didn't look up. “Having a list is one thing. But it's unbelievably difficult to get phone numbers for these guys, and as for getting through the secretaries...”
“Put Jarrett to work on it. He knows everybody, doesn't he?”
Kit said glumly, “As if he'd make an effort.”
“Oh, that's right—he wants you to lose.” Susannah settled herself on the corner of Kit's desk. “You could always offer to sleep with him regardless. Then he'd throw himself into the fray with enthusiasm, I'll bet.” Her eyes narrowed. “Not funny? Sorry, Kitty.”
Kit shrugged.
As if
, she thought,
with all the women in Jarrett's little black book, he'd go out of his way to sleep with me!
“Well, at least you've got Pierce,” Susannah went on cheerfully. “It's nothing fancy, I'm afraid. All I could dig out of him was lunch at the museum's restaurant and a guided tour of the new collections, but—”
Kit tossed her pencil aside. “That's what Pierce thinks is a dream date?”
“Well, it's typical bachelor behavior, don't you think? Not wanting to commit themselves to too much, particularly with women they don't know. I expect he thinks if he doesn't like the winner he can just prose on about Monet and Gauguin for a while, and she'll cut the whole thing short.”
Kit sighed. “Thanks, Sue. It all helps. I've got one yes and three probables from my list, and two absolute noes.”
“Who? I'll work on them, if it might do any good.”
Kit tossed the list across the desk. “What I really need, though, is something dramatic, and a list of names isn't it. Neither is the sort of ordinary dinner-and-show sort of event most of these guys are willing to offer.”
Susannah nodded. “Bachelors.”
“Now if I could get someone to offer a Caribbean cruise, or a weekend in Las Vegas... I'd even jump at an event that wasn't exactly a date. Do we know any chefs who might offer to go to the winning lady's home and cook an intimate dinner for her and the man in her life?”
“Well, the fry cook at the restaurant around the corner might be able to handle breakfast in bed, but off the top of my head I can't think of anyone else.”
Kit sighed.
Alison tapped on the open door and came in. “I suppose you've both spent the day searching out bachelors? I can't wait to see the bill you'll have run up by the end of this gig.”
Kit decided she might as well bite the bullet. “There won't be one.”
Alison's eyebrows climbed. “We're doing this for free?”
“I'll do as much as I can on my own time, and I'll make up the rest, Ali—”
Susannah slid off the desk and paced to the window. “There's a camera out there,” she said suddenly. “On the sidewalk. And the man behind it is looking at our building.”
Kit groaned.
Susannah waved at the cameraman. “Just think of the publicity we're getting, Ali.”
“Thanks. I already have.” Alison studied Kit for a long moment and said gruffly, “Just don't run yourself into the ground while you're trying to do it all, okay?”
Kit wanted to cry. Alison could be as blunt as a broken pencil, but she was also the warmest and most caring of women.
I couldn't ask for better partners
, she thought. She pulled her list of eligible men across the desk and picked up the telephone once more.
 
Her threat to put Jarrett to work on the phones—the inspired strategy Kit had expected would make him run for the bushes and stay there—bought her just over twenty-four hours of peace. But at least, she thought philosophically when Rita told her who was on the telephone, he hadn't shown up in person.
“This is Kit,” she said, nestling the phone under her chin.
She'd forgotten, in the few days since he'd called her from his car, how warmly intimate, how powerful his voice could be when there was no other impression of him to distract her attention. The deep tones resonated, almost tickling her ear.
“I've been racking my brain over this Dream Date thing,” he said. “And I wonder if you have any suggestions.”
Kit almost dropped the phone. “Do you honestly expect me to fall for that line? I find it hard to believe that the king of lingerie, the creator of monthly fantasies, can't come up with a plan to entertain one woman for a single evening.”
“You committed me for a weekend.”
“So I did. Thanks for reminding me.”
“It's not that I don't have any ideas,” he began.
“I didn't think that was the problem.”
“But everything I consider seems so tame. And I don't want to disappoint anyone.”
“Me included, I presume?” Kit asked sweetly.
His voice dropped another few tones. “Can you possibly doubt the place you hold in my thoughts?”
Kit had to smile at that. He probably meant he cursed her every time the auction crossed his mind. “If you really want my input—”
“Of course I do.”
“The first thing I'd suggest is that you stop thinking
weekend
and start thinking
week
—or even longer.”
“Which will raise the price,” Jarrett said. “That's brilliant, Kitten.”
Kit had to grit her teeth to keep from snapping at him. If she reacted to the nickname, he'd probably never call her anything else. “Let's see. You've got that enormous sailboat—how about taking your dream date for a long trip to a deserted tropical island?”
He sounded a little doubtful. “How long a trip are we talking about? And do you think the bidders would really be interested in that sort of offer?”
“I imagine so. I know I'd like it immensely.”
“You would?”
“Of course,” she said demurely. “If I could afford it, I'd buy that package in a minute.”
His voice warmed till Kit could almost feel equatorial sunshine spilling over her. “Standing on the deck of a boat with only the ocean for company... Fish, sun, waves, wind and...”
Kit moved in for the kill. “It's my idea of heaven on earth.”
“Not bad, at that. Any particular island you'd like to see?”

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