Michelle Celmer - Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation - Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation

“Crystal,” she said. “Tell me something, Evan. If I refuse to play the part of your lover, are you still going to hear my pitch? Are you even going to consider Maddox?”

“Well, I do have a fragile ego, remember?”

“Will you be serious?”

A grin worked at the corners of her mouth. She should be mad as hell at this man, not entertained by his self-effacing wit. And she definitely shouldn’t be attracted to his boyish charm or his straightforward handling of this entire ridiculous affair.

“I tell you what, Celia. The plan was always to have a quiet dinner in tonight where I could explain my plan and beg you to go along. Then tomorrow morning we were going to have our business meeting, again, in the privacy of our hotel suite. Afterward we would perpetuate my silly hoax on my brother and his grasping, manipulative bride-to-be. See? Completely separate.”

“You are completely irreverent, and I’m disgusted that I like it so much.”

He smiled, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re as diabolical as I am, face it.”

“I could have used some of your evilness in the past. That’s for sure. I’m a little envious of how you don’t mind poking your finger in the eyes of those who have screwed you over. I need to learn how to do that.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What happened to you, Celia?”

She flushed and turned away. “It’s nothing. Definitely in the past and that’s where I want it to stay.”

“Okay. Fair enough. But I hope one day you’ll tell me.”

“We don’t have that kind of relationship,” she said lightly.

“No,” he murmured. “We don’t. Not yet.”

Her gaze lifted but his expression didn’t betray his thoughts. She swallowed the knot in her throat and hoped she wasn’t making a huge, huge mistake. So much could go wrong with this.

“You’re so worried about the position I’ve placed you in,” he said. “But the truth is, if I don’t like your ideas tomorrow morning, what’s to say that you don’t leave me to face the festivities on my own? I’d say that gives you all the power and none to me.”

“Or you could just say you like my ideas to keep me on the line long enough to get through the wedding,” she pointed out. “Nothing to say that you don’t dump me the minute we get back to San Francisco.”

He nodded. “True. All of it is true. Looks like we both have some trusting to do.”

She looked down at her hand that was still underneath his. His thumb pressed into her palm, and his fingers lay still over hers, but the warmth of his touch spread up her entire arm and into her chest.

She liked this man. Genuinely liked him, stupid ambush aside. He hadn’t sugarcoated any of it. And above all else, she liked honesty. He hadn’t shied away from how the entire situation made him look. It certainly didn’t make him appear very noble, but she couldn’t get beyond thinking he was just that. Noble and honest.

The ring on her finger sparkled and glinted in the light. For just one moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if it were all real. Two seconds later she mentally slapped herself silly and told herself to get over her foolishness.

She had a job to do. She had to impress this man with her brains and her creativity, her drive and her determination. She could do all that. And if it meant she had to go beyond the call of duty to do a personal favor for him, then she needed to suck it up and just get the job done. Too many people were counting on her.

It was silly. She felt like an idiot and she was sure Evan didn’t feel any better, but it wasn’t up to her to question his motives. For whatever reason, he didn’t want his brother and his fiancée to see him bleed. She could understand that. She would have died rather than let her old boss and his scheming wife know how much they’d destroyed her.

“All right, Evan. I’ll do it.”

Triumph mixed with relief flared to life in his eyes.

“Thank you for not bashing my skull in and leaving, but more than that, thank you for not reacting in front of my family. It was more than I deserved given how I sprang it on you. I swear, that was not the way I wanted to approach you with my proposition.”

“If we’re done with all that, can we eat? I’m starving. You can tell me all I need to know about your family and also tell me how it was we met and when you proposed, but not until I get something to eat.”

He leaned forward, caught her jaw in his hand and turned her toward him. Their lips were so close that his breath blew warm over her mouth. She swallowed nervously, wondering if he would kiss her. And then she wondered if she’d let him. Or if she would kiss him instead.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Slowly, he withdrew, and to her chagrin, disappointment washed over her.

Evan watched as Celia sat sideways on the couch, her back against the arm and her knees doubled in front of her. She looked comfortable and completely relaxed, which was more than he could have hoped for given how stupidly he’d sprung the whole engagement thing on her.

After her initial fury, though, she’d calmed down and had taken it well. Damn, but he liked this woman. Oh, he was definitely attracted to her sexually, but beyond that, he genuinely liked spending time with her.

If he was smart, he’d take that as a huge warning sign to stay away and not become involved, but he’d never claimed brilliance.

She’d changed into nothing more glamorous than a pair of sweatpants and a San Francisco Tide jersey. Odd, but she hadn’t struck him as a baseball fan.

Her shoes had long since been shed, and her toenails, painted a delicate shade of pink, teased him. Hell, he was even attracted to her feet. Small and dainty.

He was officially losing his mind. Never before had he lusted after a woman’s feet.

She forked another bite into her mouth then sighed and made a low sound of agony before putting her plate down on the coffee table.

“That was fabulous. I’ve eaten so much that I won’t fit into that sparkly dress I brought for the wedding.”

That statement brought a whole host of splendid ideas to mind. Namely that they could both skip the wedding and stay in bed where clothing was entirely optional.

He shifted in his seat and wondered for the sixth time why he was so bent on torturing himself.

“So tell me something, Evan,” she said as she leaned farther into the sofa cushions. Her eyelids lowered and she tucked those pink toes underneath a throw pillow. “What made you walk away from your family’s business and start your own in a field that was so different from the jewelry trade?”

It didn’t surprise him that she knew so much about his background. She would have researched him tirelessly. Still, he debated how much to tell her.

Their gazes locked, and he saw only simple curiosity. No ulterior motive, just interest.

“There were several reasons,” he finally said. “Emotion has no place in business and yet I find myself making emotional decisions.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I’m surprised you’d admit that. Doesn’t jive with your big, bad, ruthless businessman persona.”

He smiled ruefully. “Okay, so part of it was emotion based. I didn’t agree with my father’s style of management. The fact is his company is in trouble. I saw it coming years ago and he was in flat denial. He saw no reason to change the way he ran things since it had worked for decades before.

“The other reason was I don’t exactly get along that well with him and Mitchell.”

“You don’t say,” she said drily.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I know, hard to believe. Mitchell… there are lots of more appropriate words for him, but I’ll go with the fact that he’s a lazy, unmotivated brown noser. All his life, because he was the baby, he’s never had to actually work for anything. He’s been handed everything since he was a child. As a result, his sense of entitlement is huge. I would work for something and he would want what I had worked for. Dad would give it to him.”