The Bridesmaid and the Billionaire. Shirley Jump
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“It’s a lot, believe me. Up to fifty percent of all new businesses fail within the first five years. You should be proud.”
Now her gaze narrowed. “How do you know so much about business?”
Damn. He had yet to learn the keys to a good cover story. Keep your mouth shut and know your lines.
He couldn’t very well rattle off his real résumé. Kane Lennox: fourth-generation CEO of the largest gem importing company in the world. Kane Lennox, one of the Lennoxes, the family that had been listed in the Forbes 500 issue for as many years as the magazine had been printed. Kane Lennox: the man with enough personal fortune to buy this town ten times over and still have change left over to line the streets with thousand-dollar bills.
If he told her any of that, she’d look at him just like everyone else did. With awe. With reverence. She’d step back and stop seeing him as just Kane. And for the first time in his life, he wanted to just be—
Kane.
Ordinary man. In ordinary clothes. Doing ordinary things.
With no butlers. No limos. No expectations.
“I, ah, just like to read business magazines,” he said finally. “When I’m not at work. You know, in the spirit of getting ahead.”
“That I can understand.” A soft smile of empathy stole across her face. “Working hard for what you want, right?”
“Exactly.”
“That’s my personal philosophy, too.” She shot him a grin. “Who’d have thought I would have anything in common with a guy I met on my sister’s lawn?”
He echoed her grin. “A barefoot guy at that.”
She laughed. “And here I usually go for the kind who wear shoes.”
“I’ll keep that in—” The dog wriggled then, shaking off the soapy water, spraying the room, Susannah and Kane with a fine sheen of bubbles. Kane backed up, warding off the foamy onslaught, cursing under his breath. But that only seemed to encourage the golden dog, who shook even more vigorously, her tail becoming a soap-spraying fan.
“What is wrong with that animal?”
Susannah laughed. “If you held on to her, she won’t do that.”
“What do you think I was doing? She’s not cooperating.”
Susannah arched a brow.
“Hey, if you think you can do a better job holding—” Kane said, backing up and waving at the dog.
“Fine. I’ll do your job and you can do mine.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can wash.” She tossed a bottle of shampoo at him and moved away from the dog’s head.
“No. No, I didn’t mean I’d…” Kane stared at the bottle, then the animal, then Susannah, then the dog again. “There is absolutely no way I can wash this animal.”
“A deal’s a deal, isn’t it? You said you’d help. You haven’t been much help so far.” She gave him a grin that was more of a challenge. And again, his libido roared to life. “Besides, Dakota here isn’t so bad. Trust me. She’s one of the easier clients I have.”
“Easier?” Kane snorted disagreement. He looked at the dog again. The dog looked at him, her wide soulful brown eyes seeming to say, “Oh, no, not him.” Kane took in a deep breath, squirted a little shampoo into his hands, then rubbed them together. “Uh, where do I…?”
“Her back. Just scrub it in, using your nails to really get in good under the coat. Think of it like a doggie massage.”
Kane made a face. He’d rather massage a person than a dog any day. Specifically the female person beside him. He imagined his touch running down her body, over those luscious curves, followed by his lips, lingering along her long neck—
Definitely not thoughts he should be having when he should be helping her at work. He couldn’t help it. Susannah Wilson had intrigued him—even if she had put him to work on the least fun end of the dog. “Doggie massage?”
“Hey, dogs like TLC, too.”
Kane didn’t want to do anything resembling a doggie massage, but he also didn’t want that stray hanging around his cabin, so he’d suck it up and do what Susannah asked. He leaned forward, splayed his fingers and sunk them into the dog’s deep fur. The dog wriggled against his touch, and seemed to almost…smile.
Beneath his fingers, the retriever’s fur was thick and heavy, but it parted easily, allowing him access to the animal’s skin. He gave Susannah a dubious glance; she offered him an encouraging smile, and he dug in, doing his best to offer—
A soapy doggie massage, as insane as that sounded.
Yet his thoughts kept returning to the blond human beside him. Susannah started humming snippets of an old sixties tune, her hips swaying with the rhythm, her hair catching the dance, as if her whole body was part of the concert. So natural, so uninhibited. So different from anyone he’d ever met.
“I hear people find TLC rewarding, as well,” Kane said.
“Mmm-hmm.” Susannah stopped humming and stroked the dog behind the ears instead. “That’s a good girl, Dakota. Just a few more minutes, pup.”
But Kane wasn’t thinking about the canine at all. His thoughts were entirely focused on Susannah. In a few days, the two of them would be at a wedding together, which meant he’d be escorting her down the aisle, then dancing with her at the reception. Holding her in his arms. The anticipation drummed in his veins.
Maybe…he didn’t need to wait that long. He could ask her out and—
His cell phone began to chirp, its annoying ring cutting through the room like a bullhorn.
“Do you want me to get that for you?” Susannah asked.
“Ignore it. I’m on vacation. Apparently not everyone got the memo.” His assistant was supposed to redirect all calls, but a few must have gotten past her eagle eyes. Either that, or his father was already noting his absence. Regardless, Kane refused to be reattached to the business umbilical already.
He had more important things to attend to right this second. Things like Susannah Wilson.
“Speaking of people TLC…do you know a place in this town that has good food? For people, not dogs.” He gave her a grin. “I think I have the dog menu all covered.”
“You can get great takeout at the Corner Kitchen over on Main and Newberry. The owner makes homemade everything, from strawberry jam to mashed potatoes. It’s nothing gourmet, but—”
Kane chuckled. “To me, that’ll be exotic, trust me.”
She gave him a curious look. “How can mashed potatoes and strawberry jam be exotic?”
He directed his attention to the dog again, using the overhead sprayer to rinse out the shampoo, and to avoid looking at Susannah. Damn. Good thing he’d never gone into the CIA. His cover could have been blown by a three-year-old. “I, ah, eat out a lot. You know, all that nonhomemade food. The Corner Kitchen will be a real treat. I haven’t had food like that since I was a little kid.” Actually, he’d never had any of that kind of food, but at least saying “since I was a little kid” sounded plausible.
“Did you have an aunt or something who liked to cook?”
“Something like that.” A maid. Who’d fixed gourmet meals at his parents’ beck and call. And after that, a host of restaurants that served five-star meals, none of which had strawberry jam or sweet-potato pies on the menu.
“What about you? Do you have dinner plans?”
“I’m busy tonight, sorry.”
The brush-off