Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation: Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation. Michelle Celmer
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She jerked back to reality, and for a moment couldn’t for the life of her figure out what he was talking about. Some professional she was.
“I was thinking we could meet informally and you could go over what you have in mind. If I’m interested we could do the whole shebang at your agency. Maybe that’ll save us both a lot of time and hassle if I’m not loving your ideas.”
“Sure. I can do Friday. Friday is good.”
The music ended, and he held her just a bit longer than necessary, but she was so affected by the intensity of his gaze that she couldn’t formulate a single objection.
“I’ll have my assistant call you with the time and location then.”
He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. The warm brush of his mouth over the back of her hand sent a bolt of pleasure straight down her spine.
“Until Friday.”
She watched wordlessly as he strolled away. He was immediately swallowed up by a crowd of people again, but he turned and found her gaze. For a moment they simply stared at one another and then the corners of his mouth lifted into a half smile.
Oh, yes, he knew. He knew exactly what her reaction to him was. He’d have to be a complete moron not to. And he was anything but. The man was smart. He was driven. And he had a reputation for being ruthless. He was the perfect client.
She turned to walk toward the exit. She’d done what she’d come for. There was no reason to stick around and be social. If there was any gossip over her dance with Evan, she certainly didn’t want to hear it.
On the way, she passed Brock and Elle, who were standing somewhat awkwardly to the side. Brock didn’t say anything. He just lifted an inquiring brow. Of course he would have seen her dancing with Evan. Brock probably hadn’t looked at anyone but Evan all night. A shame, really, since Elle looked fabulous in her black sheath.
“Friday,” she said in a low voice. “I meet with him Friday. No formal pitch. He wants to hear my ideas first. If he likes them, he’ll arrange a time for us to hit him with both barrels.”
Brock nodded, and she saw the gleam of satisfaction light his eyes.
“Good work, Celia.”
Celia smiled and resumed her path to the door. She had a lot to do before next Friday.
Evan Reese loosened his tie as soon as he walked into his hotel suite. He left a trail of clothing from the door, where he threw his jacket over one of the chairs, to the bedroom where he peeled off his socks and left them on the floor.
The desk with his laptop and briefcase beckoned, but for once, the idea of work didn’t appeal to him. He was too preoccupied with thoughts of Celia Taylor.
Beautiful, seductive, impossibly aloof Celia Taylor.
His body had been on heightened sense of alert ever since she walked into the ballroom, and though he’d known the moment she left, he was still tense and painfully aware of her scent, how she felt in his arms, how her skin felt under his fingers the one time he’d been bold enough to touch her.
He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than just touch. He wanted to taste her. He wanted her underneath him, making all those feminine, breathy sounds of a woman being pleasured.
He wanted to slide his hand between those gorgeous legs and spread her thighs. He would spend all night making love to her. A woman such as Celia wasn’t to be rushed. No, he’d get to know every inch of her body. Find out where she liked to be touched and kissed.
His fixation with her couldn’t be readily explained. It wasn’t as though he lived as a monk. He had sex. He never lacked for partners. Sex was good. But he knew that sex with Celia would never be just good. It would be lush and delicious. The kind of experience a man would sell his soul for.
She was indeed a beautiful woman. Tall, but not too tall. She would fit perfectly against him, her head tucked just underneath his chin. She often wore her long red hair up in a loose style that told him she didn’t pay a lot of attention to whether every strand was in place.
He wanted to take that damn clip out, toss it in the garbage and watch as her silken mass spilled down her back. Or better yet, let it spill over him while they made love.
He cursed under his breath when his body reacted to that image. Cold showers didn’t do a thing for his hunger. He ought to know. He’d taken enough of them over the last few weeks.
Perhaps her most mesmerizing feature was her eyes. An unusual shade of green. At times they looked more blue but in certain lighting they were vivid green.
The more cynical side of him wondered why a woman that beautiful hadn’t tried to seduce him into hiring her agency. It wasn’t like it hadn’t been attempted before. In fact, he’d received two such propositions tonight at the fund-raiser.
He wasn’t saying he’d mind. Right now he’d use just about any reason to get into Celia Taylor’s bed. But there was a reserve about her that intrigued him. She was a cool customer, and he admired that. She wanted the account. She’d made no bones about that. But she hadn’t actively pursued him.
No, she’d waited for him to come to her, and maybe that made her damn smart since he’d done just that.
The ring of his BlackBerry disturbed his fantasy and brought him sharply back to the present. He looked down in disgust at the unmistakable ridge in his trousers then reached into his pocket for his phone.
His mother. He frowned. He wasn’t really in the mood for anything to do with his family, but he loved his mother dearly, and he couldn’t very well ignore her.
With a resigned sigh, he punched the answer button and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Evan! I’m so glad I caught you. You’re so busy these days.”
He could hear the disapproval and worry in her voice.
“The business doesn’t run itself,” he reminded her.
She made a low sound of exasperation. “You sound so much like your father.”
He winced. That wasn’t exactly at the top of the list of things he wanted to hear.
“I wanted to call to make sure you hadn’t forgotten about this weekend. It’s important to Mitchell that you be there.”
There was a note of anxiety in her voice that always seemed to creep in when his brother was mentioned.
“You can’t think I’d actually go to their wedding,” Evan said mildly. And the only important thing to Mitchell was that Evan be there to see his triumph.
His mother made a disapproving sound. “I know it won’t be easy for you, Evan. But don’t you think you should forgive him? It’s obvious he and Bettina belong together. It would be so nice to have the whole family back together again.”
“Easy? It won’t be easy or difficult, Mom. I don’t care, and frankly they’re welcome to each other. I simply don’t have the time or the desire to attend.”
“Would you do it for me?” she begged. “Please. I want just one time to see my sons in the same room.”
Evan sank onto the edge of the bed and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. If his dad had called, he would have had no problem refusing. If Mitchell had called, Evan nearly laughed at that idea. Mitchell wouldn’t be calling him for anything after Evan had told him to go to hell and take his faithless fiancée with him.
But this was his mother, whom he harbored real affection for. His mother, who was always caught in the middle of the tension that existed between him and his father and between him and Mitchell.
“All right, Mom. I’ll come. But I’ll be bringing someone with me. I hope you don’t mind.”
He