Christine Rimmer - The Bravo Billionaire

Emma looked over, forced a smile. “I’m fine, Deirdre.”

Deirdre took the collie through the door to the waiting room.

Emma turned her gaze on him then, her expression wistful. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Armani, right?”

He realized she was referring to his tattered trousers. “Vincent Nicolosi.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

“Someone so exclusive, I’ve never heard of him, huh?”

He shrugged.

“You just send me the bill, all right?”

As far as Jonas was concerned, they’d talked enough about his trousers. “I have something important to discuss with you.”

“Jonas, I really don’t have time right now to—”

He was already striding back down the hall. He stopped at the door that led to the office room. “In here.”

“Jonas, I can’t—”

“In here. Now.”

Amazingly, she did what he’d told her to do, platform thongs clipping smartly as she came toward him. She opened the door. “After you.”

He went in.

She followed, gestured at the two pink Naugahyde chairs opposite the desk. “Have a seat.”

He didn’t sit. He laid his briefcase on her desk, opened it, and took out the prospectus. “Here.” He held it out to her.

“What’s that?”

“A plan I’ve put together.”

She folded her arms below those ripe-looking breasts.

“What kind of a plan?”

“A damn good one.” Since she wouldn’t take it, he dropped the prospectus on the desk. “We’re going to expand this business of yours. You’ll open five new PetRitz locations—in Santa Barbara, San Francisco, Dallas, Philadelphia and New York City. One a year, starting next year. I will take all the risks, and put up all the money. The majority of the profit from this venture will be yours.”

“It will?”

“Yes.”

“And what exactly do I have to do to get so lucky?”

“You’ll contribute your time. Lots of it. And also your…expertise.”

“I heard that.” Her eyes were moss green, or maybe hazel. They kept changing color. And they seemed to be twinkling with humor right then. That little mole above her lip tucked itself into the shadow of her cheek as she grinned.

“Heard what?” he demanded.

“The way you hesitated before you said ‘expertise,’ like you didn’t really mean it.”

“I assure you. I did mean it.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Sure you did. And a Texas summer never gets all that hot.”

“Emma, I am very well aware that you’ve done a fine job here. PetRitz, by any standard, is a success. And my mother realized an excellent profit on her investment.”

“You bet she did.”

“So now, I’m going to help you expand.”

She kept her arms wrapped around her. “In exchange for what?”

“In exchange for—”

She put up a hand. “No. Don’t tell me. Let me guess.” She fluttered her eyelashes, which were curly and dark around those almost-green eyes. “I know. You want me to agree to give up any claim to Mandy.”

He sought the most diplomatic way to say yes.

Before he found it, she prompted, “Am I right?”

“Emma—”

“Just answer the question.”

“All right. Yes. You’ll give up all claim to custody of Mandy.”

“No.”

He glared at her. “Just read the damn thing, will you?”

“I’m not going to give up my claim to custody of your sister. Or at least, if I do, it’s not gonna be because you have paid me off. Oh, Jonas.” She raked both hands back through that white-gold hair and she groaned at the ceiling. “Haven’t we been through this already, more than once?”

“No. This is all new. This is a great opportunity for you to build on what you’ve got here.”

“Well, fine. It’s a great opportunity and I’m passin’ it up—considering that to take it would mean I’d have to turn my back on the dyin’ wish of the second most wonderful woman I have ever known.”

He must have frowned.

Because she explained, “The first most wonderful bein’ my aunt Cass. You know all about my aunt Cass, now, don’t you? Blythe told me how you sicced your detectives on all of her friends. How you keep files on folks, how you never, ever trust anyone.”

“Excuse me. There are people whom I trust.”

“Oh, sure. Maybe. After you’ve had your detectives on them, keepin’ track of their every move for ten or twenty years.”

He felt that urge again, to wrap his hands around her pretty neck and squeeze. He spoke more quietly than ever. “You have no idea the kind of precautions a man in my position has to take.”

“You don’t have to take precautions, Jonas. You just do. I mean, all those guards you have out there at that mansion of yours…”

He did not have guards. Not exactly. He employed a skilled and discreet security force to patrol the grounds at Angel’s Crest.

The woman was smirking. “Bel Air is a gated community, with security guards checking out anybody who tries to get in. And then you’ve got that big stone fence around your property. And did I mention that other locked gate smack in the middle of that high stone fence, that gate with the camera that zooms in on anyone who rings to be let in? And is that all? Oh, no. There is more. Because you’ve also got those guys straight out of Men in Black sneakin’ around in the jacaranda trees, talkin’ to each other on their walkie-talkies. I mean, pardon me, Jonas, but you are kind of paranoid.”

“No.” He spoke with extreme patience. “I am not paranoid. I am careful.”

“You are too careful. And I keep thinkin’ that, no matter how much you love Mandy—and I do know that you love her, Jonas—but no matter how much you care for her, she can’t help but be affected by the way you are, by the way you keep people away from you, the way you are so afraid to trust anybody.”

“I am not afraid.” He spoke more forcefully than he meant to.

She actually had the temerity to roll those just-about-green eyes.

Clearly, they were getting nowhere. He said, very quietly, “I want you to take a good, long look at that offer.” He turned to leave.

She spoke to his back. “Jonas, this is pointless. I am not goin’ to—”

“I’ll call you tonight.” He shut the door on her before she could finish whatever it was she had started to say.

He called her at midnight. She answered the phone on the first ring. “What?”

“Did you read it?”

“I did. All the way through to the part about how I give up all claim to custody of Mandy. And then I stopped reading.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not takin’ this offer—which I already told you this afternoon. If you’d only bothered to listen, you could have saved yourself a phone call tonight.”

At that moment, Jonas realized he was truly and completely fed up with this woman. So fed up that he said exactly what he was thinking. “I could ruin you, Emma Lynn Hewitt.”

She gasped. He found the small, shocked sound inordinately satisfying. “I guess that was a threat, huh?”

“Let’s call it a warning.”

“Call it what you want. It won’t work.” There was steel beneath the twang. “A person’s got to stand for somethin’ or she’ll fall for anything. My aunt Cass used to say that.”

Terrific. Now she was going to beat him over the head with clever little sayings from country-western songs. “I could care less what your aunt Cass used to say.”

“Well, all right. Then listen to this. This is what I say. You are not bullyin’ me into doing things your way.”

The problem, Jonas realized then, was that she meant exactly what she said. Damn her.

This couldn’t be happening to him. But it was.

Everyone had a price—except, apparently, Emma Lynn Hewitt. For Emma Lynn Hewitt, no amount would be high enough.