Emily McKay: Affair with the Rebel Heiress / The Magnate's Pregnancy Proposal: Affair with the Rebel Heiress / The Magnate's Pregnancy Proposal

Oh, they’d started by reassuring her that she would stay on as president of the subsidiary, but she knew she wouldn’t have control. Not really. She’d be a figurehead, at best. A pretty adornment to make things look good. It’d be pathetic if it wasn’t so sad. But the really pathetic thing was she would let herself be used that way.

She loved Biedermann’s. She’d do whatever it took to save it. Even if she had to sell her soul to the devil. Or in this case, Ford Langley.

If she thought her day couldn’t get any worse, she was wrong. She ran into Ford in the elevator bay.

“Fantastic,” she muttered as she punched the elevator button. “Thousands of people work in this building and I get to ride down with you.”

“I waited for you.”

“How kind.” She didn’t bother to meet his gaze or to inject any real graciousness in her voice. She certainly hoped he wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t hear her sarcasm.

“I wanted to apologize.” He seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth.

Well, she certainly wasn’t going to make this any easier for him. “For your behavior earlier?” she asked as the elevator doors began to open. She prayed there’d be someone else in the car with them, but her prayers went unanswered. Which was the norm of late. “Don’t worry. I didn’t expect better behavior from you. After all, I know what Californians are like.”

It was a twist of something he’d said to her at that bar in Texas, when he’d teased her about being a Yankee. His gaze flickered to hers and for a second they seemed to both be remembering that night.

Damn it, why had she brought that up? She didn’t want to remind him about that. She certainly didn’t want him to think she remembered that night with anything approaching word for word accuracy.

“What I meant,” he said, following her into the elevator, “was that the meeting seemed hard for you. I can’t imagine it’s easy to sell a company that’s been in your family for generations.”

She shot him a scathing look. “Please don’t tax your mental capacity trying to imagine it.”

The doors closed, sealing them inside. For a moment he thought she’d say nothing more, just ride with him in silence. Maybe this was it. Maybe she really was as cool a number as she’d seemed in the boardroom. Maybe selling her family company meant nothing more to her than—

Then abruptly she let loose a bitter laugh.

Okay, maybe not.

“You want to know the really funny thing?” she asked as she punched the 1 button. “This is exactly what I was raised to do.”

“Run Biedermann’s?” he asked.

“Oh, God, no. Don’t get me wrong. My father adored me. Treated me like an absolute princess. But he never thought I was capable of running Bieder-mann’s. I was supposed to transform myself into the perfect wife. I was supposed to catch myself a rich husband to run Biedermann’s for me.”

She slanted him a look as if to assess his reaction. Her tongue darted out to slip along her lower lip and his body tightened in response. He was not supposed to want her. This was about business. Not sex. Now, if only his body would get that memo.

Apparently she’d gotten it though, because she continued on as if the energy between them wasn’t charged with the memory of soul-scalding sex.

She shook her head wryly. “His attitude was archaic, but there you have it.”

“So you decided to prove him wrong,” he surmised.

“No, I didn’t even do that. I really tried to marry the perfect man to take over Biedermann’s. I had him all picked out. Even got him to propose.” When the elevator doors didn’t shut fast enough for her liking she started punching the close button repeatedly. “He just decided to marry someone else instead. I won’t bore you with the details of my love life. Not when they’re available online in several different gossip columns.”

The elevator started to drop and again she laughed.

“See, that’s the funny part, right? Flash-forward a year. I’ve made a complete mess running Biedermann’s, just like my father predicted. You swoop in to rescue the company. FMJ is going to take care of everything. But—” she hastily added, as if he were about to argue with her. “I’ll still get to play at being president of the company. You’ll be watching over my shoulder, so there’s no chance I’ll make things worse. I’ll just get to sit there, looking good, while a big strong man fixes things for me. It’s the job I was raised to do.”

“Kitty—” he began, but the doors opened and she cut him off as they did.

“My father would be so proud.”

She said it with the cavalier indifference of someone who was truly in pain. But damn, she was good at hiding it.

If he hadn’t met her under other circumstances, if he’d never seen her with her guard down, he’d probably even be fooled. But as it was, he saw right through her.

If she’d been weeping and moping, maybe he could have ignored her despair. Or handed her off into the care of someone who knew her better. But these bitter self-recriminations … well, he remembered how he’d felt after his father died. The grief, the anger, the guilt, all rolled into one. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

He fell into step beside her, and said, “Look, you’re going through a hard time. You shouldn’t be alone tonight. It’s Friday night. Why not let me take you out for—”

“It’s not necessary. I have plans.”

“Plans?” he asked. “After a day like today?”

She waved a hand, still putting on a brave face. “It’s something I couldn’t get out of. A commitment from weeks ago.”

He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to supply more information.

Finally she added, “It’s a fundraiser for The Children’s Medical Foundation. At The Pierre. Very posh. You wouldn’t be comfortable there,” she finished dismissively.

She was either trying to insult him or she’d made up the engagement to put him off. He didn’t believe for a minute that she planned on going to this charity event, even if she had bought the tickets months ago. She was just trying to get rid of him. But he couldn’t stand the thought of her all alone, wallowing in her misery.

“Great.” Why not pretend to buy her story? “I’ll come with you.”

She shot him a look icy enough to freeze his eyebrows off.

Okay, so he couldn’t exactly imagine Kitty wallowing in anything. Here in New York she was as cool and collected as they came.

But he’d seen her outside her element. He’d seen her vulnerable. He knew that a passionate, emotional woman lurked beneath the surface of her icy cool perfection. If he peeled back the layers to reveal that woman, he’d probably find someone who could use a shoulder to cry on.

Kitty stopped in the lobby, ignoring the other people filtering out onto the street. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I don’t have plans.”

“Your partner—”

“Has a teleconference with some people in China.” “Who called a meeting for a Saturday morning?” she pressed.

“You know what they say.” He flashed a smile. “If you don’t come in on Saturday, don’t bother coming in on Sunday, either.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

But she wasn’t. He could see the strain in the lines around her eyes and in the tightness of her mouth. Of course, there was a chance his attempt to be kind was only making matters worse, but his gut told him to keep pushing. He was almost past her defenses, but charm alone wouldn’t get her to open up. He needed to change tactics.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “You don’t want to be with me.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re probably afraid of how you feel about me.” A lock of her hair had fallen free of its twist. He reached out and gave it a quick tug before tucking it behind her ear. He let his fingers linger there, at the sensitive place along the back of her ear.