The Best Man's Plan. Gina Wilkins
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ten years younger than Bryan, she had begun to wonder if she would ever have the children she’d always wanted.
It had seemed like a match made in marriage-of-convenience heaven. According to Bryan’s calculations, an alliance between them had better than eighty percent odds of success—much better probability than the typical marriage, which stood only a fifty-fifty chance of lasting.
What he couldn’t have predicted was that Chloe would tumble head-over-heels in love with his second in command—and vice versa—making all Bryan’s logical, practical planning moot.
A sudden crash from the other room made him jump to his feet, muscles tensed, senses on full alert. Crossing the room in three long strides, he threw open the bedroom door, poised for battle if necessary.
Chapter Two
G race was crouched on the floor beside the sitting room wet bar, plucking pieces of glass from the thick cream-colored carpet, when Bryan burst through his bedroom door. Had she not seen this aspect of him before, she might have been surprised that her rather lazily graceful, studiedly charming companion of earlier had been transformed into this tightly wound, almost dangerous-looking man. Bryan had looked just this way when Chloe and Donovan were kidnapped, scaring the con artist behind the plot so badly that he’d literally feared for his life.
“I dropped a glass,” she said quickly, realizing what had precipitated his tumultuous entrance. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.” Moving more slowly now, he crossed the room, his bare feet making no sound on the plush carpeting. “Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”
“I’m fine.” She rose and dropped the shards into a plastic-lined metal wastebasket. They landed with a tinkling, almost cheerfully musical sound. Though her fuzzy blue slippers protected her own feet, she felt obligated to warn him, “I think I found all the pieces, but be careful walking around over here with bare feet.”
He’d changed from his tuxedo into a white V-necked T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. His formerly neatly brushed hair was now tousled around his face. And he looked just as gorgeous as he had in the tailored tuxedo earlier.
She had long since grown accustomed to the unwelcome flutter she felt every time she saw him. No matter how he was dressed, Bryan Falcon was undeniably the best-looking man Grace had ever met. Usually she could ignore the sensations, but it was a bit harder in the late-night intimacy of this private suite, with both of them dressed in their ultracasual lounging clothes.
He leaned against one end of the bar. “Having a little trouble unwinding?”
She shrugged and took another glass from the cabinet beside the bar. “I’m just thirsty.”
“There’s a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice in the fridge. I like to have a glass before bedtime.”
“Another one of your special requests?” she asked as she opened the door to the small refrigerator built discreetly into the custom woodwork.
“Yes.”
“It must be nice to have everything you want at your fingertips.”
“It is,” he agreed equably. Apparently he wasn’t going to let her push any of his buttons tonight.
He nodded when she motioned with the pitcher, silently asking him if he wanted a glass. She filled an extra one and handed it to him.
He carried the glass to the sofa and sat on one end. After hesitating a moment, she perched on a chair arranged in conversation-group fashion nearby. She thought their casual clothing looked incongruous against the very formal gold-and-cream upholstery, but Bryan was obviously accustomed to making himself comfortable in such rooms. He lounged back against the cushions and crossed his bare feet on the low mahogany table in front of him.
“Are we still on for our high-profile lunch tomorrow?” he asked. “Or would you rather bail out and go home early?”
She wondered if he suspected how tempted she was to accept that escape, but she shook her head. “You said being seen around town together would strengthen the impression that we’re a couple. That’s what we came here to do.”
“You think you can get through an entire meal without dumping a plate of food in my lap?”
“You think you can get through an entire meal without making me mad enough to dump a plate of food in your lap?” she countered.
He grinned. “I can try.”
Her lips tilted into an answered smile. “Then so will I.”
It was so rare for them to smile at each other that the moment caught her off guard. When she realized that he was suddenly staring at her mouth, her smile faded.
Lifting his gaze to her eyes, he asked, “What is it about me, exactly, that annoys you so much? Just so I don’t end up with food in my lap tomorrow.”
She looked down into her orange juice. “I promise I won’t throw food in your lap tomorrow. I know how important it is for us to divert the gossips’ attention away from Chloe and Donovan so they can plan their wedding in peace.”
“Actually, throwing food at me would be a very effective way of diverting attention to us.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not the right type of attention, perhaps.”
He shrugged, keeping his gaze on her face. “I’m serious, Grace. What is it about me that you dislike so much? I know you didn’t approve of me as a potential suitor for your sister, but that’s over. So…is it something I said? Something I did? You don’t like the way I walk? Talk? Smell?”
She couldn’t help smiling again. “You smell quite nice, actually. Very expensive.”
His left eyebrow rose in an expression that some might call sardonic. “Old Spice. My housekeeper picks it up for me at Wal-Mart when she buys groceries and cleaning supplies. It was the scent my grandfather wore, and I’ve always been rather fond of it.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“That surprises you.”
“I’m not surprised that you have a housekeeper. Probably one for every house you own.”
“So it’s my money that bothers you.”
She squirmed uncomfortably on the chair. “Let’s just say I’m not accustomed to the kind of wealth and power you command.”
“Would you like me better if I gave it all away?”
Frowning, she shook her head. “No. I mean—”
“So it isn’t entirely the money. It’s me you don’t like.”
She sighed gustily. “I never said I don’t like you.”
“Actually I believe you said you hated me.”
She gave him a reproachful look. “You know I didn’t mean that. I was just blowing off steam after that awkward evening.”
“So you do like me?”
Making a faint sound of frustration, she set her half-empty glass on the coffee table with a thump. “I barely know you, Bryan. You swept into my sister’s life, and almost convinced her to enter into a very businesslike marriage with you. I didn’t approve of that scheme because I know Chloe deserves better than that—she deserves the happiness she’s found with Donovan.”
“She met Donovan because of me,” he reminded her.
“She was also kidnapped and put through four days of hell because of you,” she retorted, making him wince. “And now the gossip columnists are titillated by the possibility that Chloe jilted you, one of the richest, most influential men in the country—a man who made the news a year or so ago for breaking up with one of the most beautiful and famous starlets in the world. And now Chloe’s marrying your best friend and business