Misbehaving With The Millionaire. Kimberly Lang
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her into therapy or cause her to lose her job. If she limited her calls to Sarah over the next couple of weeks, she’d be able to concentrate much better on the job at hand.
Head in the game. Eyes on the prize. Hands to herself.
That should be easy enough to remember.
“Konichiwa.” His tongue felt too thick to get the word out sounding anything like the voice on the computer lesson. Picking up Japanese in three weeks would be a challenge.
He looked over the notes Nancy had prepared about doing business with the Japanese. The business card thing was no problem; bowing wasn’t that difficult to figure out. But he’d read how making an effort to learn a few words of Japanese—however badly pronounced—would go a long way in creating good feelings.
And good feelings were much needed. Expanding HarCorp’s distribution of its luxury items into Asian markets had been his personal goal for the company for the last three years.
HarCorp’s background was tied in Texas cattle, but the Harrison family didn’t have ranch roots. His great-grandfather opened one of the first tanneries in the area, providing leather to the saddle and boot makers. When the demand for saddles waned, Harrison Tannery changed its name and began supplying leather to the automakers and eventually began supplying leather overseas as well.
The Luxury Goods arm of HarCorp had been a special project of Will’s since he joined the family business. He’d championed it when the entire board had tried to nix the idea. It wasn’t until his father retired that he was able to give it the attention it deserved, but Luxury Goods now showed a larger profit than any other department, and the naysayers were off his back. Now that Harrison Leathers had made a name for itself providing unique, high-quality items, it was time to expand their reach to the newly affluent Asian countries and their growing upper classes. Kiesuke Hiramine was his way into that market. The meeting scheduled for next month would be the make-or-break moment of three years’ hard work.
“Konichiwa,” he tried again. “Dochirahe.”
The intercom on his desk beeped. “Mr. Harrison, are you ready for me now?”
He glanced at his watch. Three-thirty already, and past time for his daily meeting with his assistant. “Come on in, Nancy.”
One second later, Nancy knocked sharply on his door and entered. With her usual efficiency—and he paid her handsomely for it—she went through his calendar and schedule for the immediate future as he signed the stack of papers she laid on his desk.
“Finally Dallas Lifestyles would like to know if you can schedule an interview and photo shoot.”
A snort escaped at the mention of the magazine. Four-color gossip on glossy paper was still trash, no matter how the magazine tried to promote itself as something other than a gossip rag. He looked up from the contract he was initialing to see the corner of Nancy’s mouth twitching in amusement. “Why on earth would I do that?”
Nancy feigned a look of innocence. “It’s part of the whole ‘Dallas’s Most Eligible’ package. Each Bachelor gets a spread. You’re the only one left—are you sure you don’t want to schedule?”
“Has hell frozen over yet?” That’s all he needed: more encouragement for the fortune-hunting women out there on the dating circuit. Like he didn’t have enough on his plate already between running HarCorp and raising Evie. Even if he had the inclination, he certainly didn’t have the time.
“That’s what I thought. But I told them I’d ask anyway. Maybe they’ll quit calling now,” she grumbled.
“We can hope, right?”
Nancy shrugged as she collected the now-signed papers from his desk. Knowing they were finished, Will turned back to his computer and clicked the file on Japanese business etiquette open again. He needed to figure out this bowing thing.
“Anything else I can do for you?”
He laughed but didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Yeah. Find me a Japanese expert to run my meeting.”
His intercom on his desk beeped, meaning the lobby receptionist wanted to put a call directly through—which meant the call was either from Evie or Marcus. Nancy left as he answered.
“Hi, Will. I’m sorry to bother you.”
Hearing Gwen’s voice caught him off-guard. Jewel, the executive receptionist, must have been told something about their situation in order for Gwen to get connected to him directly. He hadn’t thought about doing it, but Nancy obviously had.
“It’s no bother.” Surprisingly he meant that. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine. Marcus Heatherton called Evie today to say he’ll be here for dinner tonight.”
He’d forgotten about that. “I guess I should have warned you. Marcus is checking up on us.”
“On me, you mean.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Gwen was sharp.
“How’d you know?”
“After everything Evie’s told me, I’m surprised he’s waited this long.” She sounded amused at the situation, which surprised him. Marcus was well-known, and it wasn’t for his laid-back outlook on life. Surely Gwen had at least heard of him in dealing with her debutantes.
His computer beeped, signaling an incoming e-mail. He glanced at the message and shot back a quick response.
“Mrs. Gray, however, is all atwitter. Something about Mr. Heatherton being impossible to please.”
“Oh, well, there was that one night when the meat was a little tough…”
“So, it’s going to be an interesting evening then.” Gwen chuckled conspiratorially, and the sound was infectious. He liked this side of her. Gwen still seemed tense whenever he was around, and this was one of the few times he’d felt her loosening up.
“Oh, definitely.”
“Actually I wanted to tell you that Mr. Heatherton plans to arrive around six-thirty. I’m hoping you’ll be able to make it home a bit earlier tonight. I think he’s eager to see you.”
That comment brought a full-out laugh. “You have heard of Marcus. Don’t worry. I’ll be home in plenty of time to run interference for you.”
“That’s not what I was implying—”
“Yes it was.” This was fun. How long had it been since he’d had an enjoyable and somewhat normal conversation with a woman? Years, possibly. He eased back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. “Marcus will be nothing if not impressed by you—what you’ve done with Evie, that is.”
“I hope. Evie’s a bit nervous. You did tell her she wasn’t going to be sent to boarding school, right?”
“Yep.” His e-mail beeped again, and he glanced at the subject line. As much as he was enjoying the conversation, it was time to get back to it. “Anything else I can do for you—short of uninviting Marcus to dinner?”
“Actually there is one more thing. You mentioned before that you wanted me to help Evie with her wardrobe. I’ll be taking her to Neiman Marcus tomorrow.”
Money. Of course. Everything in his life always came back to money. His money. Not that he minded spending it on Evie, but Gwen bringing it up had kind of dampened the mood. For a moment there, he’d forgotten he’d bought her time and attention. Her attention to Evie, he meant. “I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”
“Guess not. We’ll see you tonight.” He heard Evie’s voice in the background then Gwen’s muffled voice as she placed a hand over the phone to answer her. “Oh, Will?”
His intercom was beeping. He didn’t have time for this. “Yes?”
“Evie says not