“I care,” he stated flatly. Sass was one thing, but she needed to understand his interests. “You’re getting one sweetheart of a monetary deal, and I’m getting some good PR. The how matters. The ruse matters.”
She opened her mouth to rebut, but he was done debating.
“Make no mistake about it, Emma. You and I are going to convince the world we’ve fallen in love or die trying.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to do it,” Emma said to Katie as they walked off court number twelve at Club Connecticut. Distracted by Alex’s plan, she’d lost decisively to her sister, game, set and match.
She wasn’t an actress. And she wasn’t a public person. While some hotel socialites hit the club scene and made the front pages of the tabloid press, Emma jealously guarded her privacy.
“Is he being a real jerk?” asked Katie, sympathy in her voice as she gestured to an empty umbrella table with four white deck chairs.
“No jerkier than we expected,” said Emma honestly. “Problem is, he’s got this whole fantasy, fool-the-press thing planned. And I’m definitely not up for playing the simpering Wall Street bride.”
Katie frowned for a minute as she took her seat. “Well, I suppose he has to get something out of it.”
“He’s getting our hotels.”
“Only half.”
Emma raised her eyebrows at her sister. Did Katie honestly think Alex was being reasonable? “We promised him a wife, not a trophy bride for the front page.”
Katie shrugged. “So he wants to show you off a little. Why not go with the flow?”
Emma peeled off her sweatband and shook out her hair. “Because the flow will be trite and embarrassing. And, if you’ll recall, the flow is also one very big lie.”
Katie smirked. “No harm in looking good while you’re lying.”
Emma pulled a bottle of water out of the acrylic ice bucket in the center of the table. “Quit laughing at me.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just-”
“That it’s me and not you?”
Katie’s tone changed. “Of course not. I’m grateful. You know I’m grateful.”
Emma sighed. “I have to find a way to convince him to keep this low-key. A justice of the peace. A small announcement in the classified section.”
Katie reached for a bottle of water, cracking the cap. “Or I could lend you some clothes and you could hit the party circuit on his arm.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Wouldn’t hurt you to get out and about. You know you work too hard.”
“Not hard enough to save the company.”
“Hey, you’re saving the company now.”
Emma sat back in her chair. She wasn’t saving the company through her guile and business acumen, that was for sure. “It feels like prostitution.”
“Without the sex?”
“Without the sex.”
“Then it’s not prostitution, is it? Lighten up, Emma. We’ll go to Saks.”
“Oh, yeah. Saks will solve the problem.” Because as long as Emma had the right wardrobe, she could easily prance through uptown Manhattan casting mooning looks in Alex’s direction.
She shuddered.
“Oh my,” Katie muttered, her attention shifting to a spot over Emma’s shoulder.
“Oh my, what?”
“He’s here.”
“Who’s here?” Emma twisted her neck, trying to get a look.
“Alex,” said Katie.
Emma froze. “What?”
“Alex is here.”
She turned to face Katie. “He’s not a member.”
“Maybe not.”
“It’s a private club.”
“Like the desk clerk’s going to tell Alex Garrison he can’t have a day pass.”
Emma’s chest tightened to a tingle. “What’s he doing?”
“Coming this way.”
“No.”
Katie nodded. “Yes.” Then she smiled broadly. “Hello, Alex.”
Emma felt a warm palm come to rest on her bare, sweaty shoulder. Her muscles hummed beneath the touch, jumping to some bizarre rhythm. Like she’d never been touched by a man before.
She resisted the urge to shrug him off.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Alex’s voice rumbled in her ear.
Then his lips branded her temple, and the breath whooshed right out of her body. In fact, it was a light, insubstantial touch, but it jump-started her pulse and sent her nerve endings into a frenzy.
She had to tell herself in no uncertain terms to calm the heck down.
Giving her shoulder a final squeeze, he eased his big body into the vacant chair next to her and casually helped himself to a bottle of water. “So, how was the game?”
He was wearing a white polo shirt with a single blue stripe over one shoulder. The open collar showed off his strong neck and tanned skin, while the knit weave delineated his broad shoulders and well-defined pecs.
When Emma didn’t answer, he raised a dark brow in her direction.
“Fine,” she ground out. Now that she was starting to recover, her anger was bubbling up. A kiss at Club Connecticut was almost as bad as the JumboTron. And Alex knew it. The stares from the surrounding table were penetrating.
He nodded easily. “Good.”
“I took her in straight sets,” said Katie, her tone far too friendly for Emma’s liking.
Emma leaned closer to Alex. “I thought we were going to talk about this?” she hissed.
He draped an arm casually over the back of her chair. “I’m through talking,” he said.
“Well, I’m not.”
“Really? That’s unfortunate.” He glanced around. “Because I think it’s too late.”
“Cheat,” Emma muttered, knowing he’d won through brute force. At least a dozen people had seen that oh so calculated kiss.
Alex laughed. Then he raised his voice and looked at Katie. “Congratulations on the win.”
Katie grinned in return. “Emma seemed to be having trouble concentrating this morning.”
“Really?” Alex gave her shoulder another annoying squeeze, and her body responded with another annoying crackle. She didn’t like it. She refused to like it. It had to be revulsion, because it couldn’t be anything else.
“Have anything to do with last night?” he asked her loud and clear.
Two tables away, Marion Thurston’s stenciled eyebrows shot to her dyed hairline. It seemed to take the woman a moment to gather her wits, but then she reached for a cell phone and hit a speed dial button. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who she’d called. It was a very poorly kept secret that Marion Thurston fed stories to society columnist Leanne Height.
Emma leaned close to Alex again. “I am definitely going to kill you.”
“You’re still not in the will.”
“I no longer care.”
Alex laughed again. “Are you busy tomorrow night?” He looked at Katie. “You, too. I booked a table for the Teddybear Trust casino event.”
“I don’t gamble,” said Emma.
“Well, it’s time you learned,” he said easily.
“I’m in,” said Katie. “Is there room for David?”
“Ahhh. The elusive David.”
“I don’t want to learn,” Emma grumbled.
“Blackjack,” said Alex. “I’ll bankroll you.”
“You’re not going to-”
His voice turned steely. “I’ll bankroll you.”
“Fine. You want to put a tattoo on my forehead while you’re at it?”
He lifted her hand for a fleeting kiss, his gentle voice at odds with the steely look in his eyes. “No. Just a diamond on your finger.”
“We’ve got trouble on the wedding front,” said Ryan, plunking down in a guest chair in Alex’s office.
Alex looked up from the McKinley Inns prospectus. “What kind of trouble?”
“The kind that starts with one archrival DreamLodge and ends with Kayven Island.”
An adrenaline shot hit Alex’s system. “Old man Murdoch knows about Kayven?”
“He has to,” said Ryan, sitting forward in the leather chair. “There’s no other explanation.”