Barbara Dunlop - The CEO's Accidental Bride / Paper Marriage Proposition - The CEO's Accidental Bride / Paper Marriage Proposition

“Well, it’s all true,” said Zach. “At least as far as we can tell. Dylan’s in denial.”

Kaitlin laughed lightly, remembering the argument at the baseball game. “It sure sounded like it.”

Zach removed his tie and tossed it on the love-seat cushion beside him. “Dylan wants to pretend his family was pure of heart. I think he must have more scruples than me.”

“You’re unscrupulous?” she couldn’t resist asking.

“Some would say.”

“Would they be right?”

He looked her square in the eyes. “Like I’m going to answer that.”

She couldn’t tell if he was still teasing. And maybe that was deliberate. “Are you trying to keep me off balance?” she asked, watching his expression closely.

“You’re not exactly on my side.”

“I thought we’d formed a truce.” She certainly felt as if they’d formed a truce tonight.

“I’m appeasing you,” he told her. His tone and dark eyes were soft, but the words revealed his continued caution.

“And I’m trying to build you a masterpiece,” she responded tartly.

He sighed, and seemed to relax ever so slightly. “You’re trying to build yourself a masterpiece.”

She had to concede that one. Her primary motivation in this was her own reputation. Of course, it was all his fault she was forced into this position.

“You make a fair point,” she admitted.

“So, who’s unscrupulous now?”

“I’m not unscrupulous. Just practical.” She had no one in this world to depend on but herself.

Orphans learned that fact very quickly in life. If she didn’t have a career, if she couldn’t provide for herself, nobody would do it for her. Since she was old enough to understand, she’d feared poverty and loneliness.

She was sure the view was quite different from where Zach was sitting on millions of dollars worth of New York real estate. He had a successful company, money to burn and a lineage that went back to the dawn of statehood.

“So, what have you decided?” he asked.

“About what?” Was there anything left outstanding on their deal? She thought they were both quite clear at this point.

“My building. You’ve been working at it for a couple of weeks now. Tell me what you have in mind.”

Kaitlin instantly saw through his ploy. No wonder he’d behaved so well this evening. He’d been lulling her into a false sense of security.

She came to her feet, keeping a close eye on him, backing toward the rail. The teak deck was cool and smooth beneath her bare feet. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not opening myself up for a fight over the details.”

He rose with her. “You’ll need my input at some point. It might as well be—”

“Uh-uh.” The breeze brushed the filmy, scalloped-hem dress against her legs and whipped the strands of hair that had worked their way loose from her updo. “No input. My project.”

He widened his stance. “I’ll have to approve the final designs.”

The waves rolled higher, and she braced herself against the rail. “What part of carte blanche didn’t you understand?”

He took a few steps forward. “The part where I sign the check.”

“ We sign the check.”

He came even closer, all pretense of geniality gone from his expression. He was all business, all intimidation. “Right. And ‘we’ had best be happy with both the plans and the price tag.”

“There is no limit on this project’s budget.”

He came to a halt, putting a hand on the rail, half trapping her. “I won’t let you bankrupt my company.”

She struggled not to react to his nearness. “Like I could possibly bankrupt Harper Transportation. You give me too much credit.”

The boat lunged into a trough, and he swayed closer. “You want to see the balance sheets?”

“I want to see a new Manhattan skyline.”

“It’s talk like that that scares me, Kaitlin.”

Her scare him?

He was the one unsettling her.

His intense expression brought her heart rate up. His lips were full, chin determined, eyes intense, and his hard, rangy body was far too close for her comfort. Sweat prickled at her hairline, formed between her breasts, gathered behind her knees, and was then cooled by the evening breeze.

His arms were only inches away. He could capture her at any moment, kiss her, ravage her.

She swallowed against her out-of-control arousal.

Any second now, she’d be throwing herself in his arms. Maybe talking about the renovation was the lesser of all evils.

“I was planning more light.” Her voice came out sexy, husky, and she couldn’t seem to do a thing about it. “More glass. A higher lobby. Bigger offices.”

Had he moved closer?

“Bigger offices mean fewer offices,” he pointed out.

She didn’t disagree.

“Do you know the cost of space in midtown Manhattan?” His rebuke sounded like a caress.

“Do you know the soft value of impressing your future clients?” she returned, her brain struggling hard to grasp every coherent thought.

Had she moved closer? Her nose picked up his scent, and it was sensually compelling. She swore she could feel the heat of his body through his dress shirt.

“Do you think the makers of tractor parts and kitchen appliances care what my lobby looks like?” His breath puffed against her lips.

“Yes.”

They stared at each other in silence, inhaling and exhaling for long seconds. The rumble of the yacht’s motor filled the space around them.

Something dangerous flared in Zach’s intense gray eyes. It was darkly sensual and completely compelling.

Her body answered with a rush of heat and a flare of longing that sent a throbbing message to every corner of her being.

She struggled through the muddle of emotions clouding her brain. “The people who make tractor parts also have tickets to Lincoln Center. They do care about your lobby.”

“It’s a building, not a piece of art.” The yacht lurched, and his hand brushed against hers. She nearly groaned out loud.

“It can be both,” she rasped.

Things could do double duty.

Look at Zach. He was both an adversary and a—

What? What was she saying?

He could be her lover?

“Kaitlin?” His voice was strangled, while his gaze flared with certain desire. His full lips parted, his head tipping toward hers.

The boat rolled on a fresh set of waves, and she gripped the rail, transfixed by the sight of his body closing in on hers.

She flashed back to Vegas.

He’d kissed her there.

How could she have ever doubted it?

Elvis had pronounced them husband and wife, and Zach had thrown his arms around her, kissing her thoroughly and endlessly. It was only the cheers from the crowd that had finally penetrated their haze and forced them to pull apart. It was a miracle they hadn’t slept together that night.

Why hadn’t they slept together that night?

She remembered getting into the elevator with a couple of her female coworkers, then stumbling into her room and dropping, fully dressed, onto the plush, king-size bed.

No Zach.

But he was here now.

And they were alone.

And she remembered. She wished she didn’t. But she remembered his lips on hers, his arms around her, the strength of his embrace, the taste of his mouth, the sensual explosions that burst along her skin.

She wanted it again, wanted it so very, very much.

She gave in to her desire and leaned ever so slightly forward. His mouth instantly rushed to hers. His free arm snaked around her, pressing against the small of her back, pulling her tight as the deck surged beneath them.

She pressed forward, arms twining around his neck. Her lips softened, parted. He murmured her name, and his hand splayed farther down her spine. His tongue invaded, and the taste of him combined with the scent of the salt air, the undulation of the boat and heat of his hands brought a moan from her very core.