Saved by the Bride (3 page)

No
apology
.
Interesting
. He
decided to wait and see how she played it. “Finn.”

“Thank you, Finn.”

She spoke clearly and with no sign of a slur, which immediately
ruled out drunkenness as the reason she’d attempted to climb through the window
in such an inept way.

Her gaze darted around the room as if she was trying to get her
bearings. “This is a lovely room.”

“I like it.” He closed the window, his blood now fully back
where it belonged—oxygenating his brain. “By the way, most people come through a
window head first, legs last.”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “Yeah, my game plan was a bit off
and gymnastics was never my strong suit.”

Again, it wasn’t an answer he’d expected and her apparent
honesty disarmed him. He took a closer look at her face, seeking any expression
that told the real story. She wasn’t pretty in the conventional way although
under the mess of makeup, she had good bone structure. He noticed a dark smudge
near her eye. “Have you hurt your cheek?”

“Oh, God, can you see that?” She touched the top of her right
cheekbone and let out a low wail. “Sadly, it’s not mascara but an almost-healed
black eye from when I missed a catch.”

He couldn’t help himself and laughter won out. “So gymnastics
and
ball games aren’t your thing?”

Her mouth tilted up into a self-effacing smile, joining him in
the joke. “To be honest, it’s all sports including crossing the road.”

He couldn’t help grinning at her. “And yet knowing that, you
tried to climb through a window in an evening dress?”

“It’s always important to give it your best shot.” Her hands
came up to grip her arms and she took a shivery step toward the throw rug on the
couch. “Do you mind?”

Her question momentarily jolted him out of his intrigue and
activated his manners. “Sure, go right ahead.” He’d get her warm and
then
drill her. He poured a shot of Scotch from the
crystal decanter and handed it to her.

She stared at it for a moment before accepting the glass and
downing it in one gulp. Her pupils instantly dilated to wide, jet discs, almost
obliterating the piercing blue. Coughing, she sank onto the leather couch and
gasped out, “Water?”

He squirted some soda into another glass and she swallowed it
all. “Better?”

“It burns all the way down.”

“That’s the general idea.” He sat down next to her. “Who are
you?”

She hesitated for a moment as if battling with herself.
“Donna.”

“Donna, who?”

The blue eyes suddenly flashed with silver. “Finn, who?”

He could have told her he was Finn Callahan, third generation
of the Chicago Callahans, previously of County Clare, Ireland, and currently
heading up the Mexico division of AKP Industries, but the fact she didn’t seem
to know him was oddly liberating. “Just Finn.”

She nodded slowly, as if acknowledging the surname-less pact.
“So, Finn, why are you hiding out in the library in the middle of a party?”

The perceptive question hit hard. Over the years he’d honed a
variety of tactics when faced with family occasions and the fact she’d worked
out so fast that he was hiding, rankled. This woman with her round, bright eyes
should be apologetic and grateful instead of questioning him. “Given your
unorthodox entrance,
I’m
the one that should be
asking the questions.”

She shrugged and a knowing smile creased into round cheeks.
“It’s well known that guilt makes us grumpy.”

“In that case you should be as grumpy as hell.”

She tilted her head in consideration of the accusation. “Maybe,
but mostly not.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“Sometimes breaking a few rules is what has to happen so
fairness can prevail.”

“That’s an interesting philosophy.” One she shared with his
father and some of his business associates, but not him. A stickler for the
rules, he always argued the point of what constituted fair and to whom.

He passed her the platter of sandwiches with the intention of
relaxing her so she’d say something to give him a clue as to why she was
here.

She picked up two sandwiches and unlike most women he knew, bit
deeply into one as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

“Tell me how this philosophy is working out for you.”

“It’s a recently adopted attitude and I’m still ironing out the
kinks. Basically, I’m feeling my way.” She smiled, but her eyes twinkled with
purpose. “So why you are here?”

The answer was as complicated as it was easy. “Business.”
Family
and
commercial
. Sadly, the two couldn’t be separated and
he knew which one he preferred. “And you?”

“Same.”

He tried not to frown, wanting to keep his disbelief hidden.
Bridey had insisted that the party not be filled with AKP contacts unless they
were her friends or longtime personal friends of the family. Granted, he’d been
in Mexico a lot lately but if Donna was a friend of his sister’s, surely she
would have mentioned Bridey’s name by now. “What sort of business?”

“Um, warehouses.”

She bit her lip again and his gaze zeroed in on a bead of
moisture while his brain kicked him hard.
Focus
.
“You don’t sound very certain.”

“It’s complicated is all.” She pushed some escaped strands of
hair behind her ears, the action quick and decisive. “So if you’re here for
business, you’d know Sean Callahan?”

And
we’re
getting
warmer
. The mention of his father’s name sent a
thousand warning flags up in his head. “Sure.”

She picked at the second sandwich. “He’s a hard man to get hold
of.”

And he was, but why would she know?
How
did she know? Everyone at AKP had been sworn to secrecy about
company matters especially with the Mexico expansion. Was she a spy from Paper
Again, a rival company who’d been trying to get information on the new plant?
Nah
. He immediately ditched the idea because as
a spy she was incredibly inexpert.

A rogue thought pinged into his mind and took hold. Unless of
course this whole “damsel in distress” thing was an act to sucker him in. After
all, he’d been rescuing birds, animals and women since he was a kid so
deliberately setting him up for help would be the perfect way to get to his
father. Hell, it had already worked up to this point. He’d pulled her into the
house, into his arms, warmed her up and fed her!

He cursed the unauthorized internet news article about him
published a few months back that had basically said, “the soft side of Finn
Callahan.” God he hated the press.

Press
! The thought exploded in his
head with the clarity of a brilliant cut diamond. This was just the sort of
thing a tabloid reporter would do to get an exclusive. The last thing he needed
right now was the press sniffing out dirt on him or finding out that Sean had
been missing some important AKP meetings. He still didn’t understand what was
going on in his tycoon father’s head but if the shareholders got wind of it in
this financial climate, it would send jitters through the stock prices. He sure
as hell didn’t need an article about how it took one generation to create a
company, the second generation to increase it and the third to lose it.

His gut seethed but he didn’t have enough evidence on “Legs”
just yet so he had to play it cool and detached. Pretty much how he played all
things family with his father. He gave her an encouraging smile. “I guess you
just have to know how to contact him.”

“And you do?” She’d leaned forward slightly, her face alive
with interest.

Bingo
! Ms. Donna had just made a
fatal mistake in her almost perfect modus operandi—an enthusiasm for her target.
All that was left to do was expose her by reeling her in, hook, line and sinker.
“I’ve got his private number.”

Excitement zipped and fizzed in Annika, following fast behind
the effects of the Scotch, which was warming her up in the most delicious way,
but in the process making it really hard to concentrate. Finn was making it
really hard to concentrate.

From the moment she’d slammed into his broad chest and looked
into those questioning coal-black eyes, she’d been out of her depth. At five
foot eleven inches, she was used to being taller than some men but Finn had the
height of a basketball player, and the solid bulk of a toned athlete. She felt
tiny in comparison, which was unusually disconcerting. That and the fact she’d
wrapped herself around him like a pole dancer. Just thinking about it made her
hot and bothered, which was silly because she knew from the tips of her bruised
toes and to the apex of her dented heart that tall, handsome men, dark or blond,
spelled disaster for her. All men really.

Thank
you
,
Ryan
. When she’d
returned to Whitetail after that heart-hammering debacle she’d decided that the
more handsome the man, the easier he was for her to resist. Granted, Whitetail
hadn’t thrown up any opportunities for her to test her theory in two years, but
Finn in his tailored tuxedo slotted perfectly into the top category of “beyond
gorgeous” so he was a perfect test case.

Attraction aside, her biggest problem was that she’d been out
of her depth before she’d met Finn. The fact she’d even considered that she
could pull off a stealth entry to the house was a testimony to her desperation.
When she’d ruined the perfect look that the town had gone to so much trouble to
organize for her so she could blend into the party, she’d immediately wanted to
flee. But perhaps the Gods of Fairness really did exist and had finally deigned
to intervene. She wanted to pinch herself because given everything that had
happened up to this point, she couldn’t believe she was actually sitting next to
a man who not only knew Sean Callahan but knew how to contact him.

Yes
! She gave a silent squeal. He’d
been remarkable in his lack of concern over her illicit entry, avoided the
obvious question of, “What the hell are you doing?” and had been generous with
food and drink. She wasn’t going to second-guess why he hadn’t handed her over
to security—she’d just accept it as a gift. She was absolutely certain he’d help
her meet Sean Callahan, CEO of AKP Industries.

Working hard to keep her mind on the game and not on the sharp,
clean scent of his cologne as it mixed in with something essentially masculine,
she did everything she could to sound casual. “His private number? Wow, you must
be really close to him.”

“Not really.” The words sounded unexpectedly curt but then he
shrugged, softening the tone. “Business is business.”

She didn’t really understand what that meant because in
Whitetail all business involved a community connection but she brushed it aside
as being irrelevant to her needs. “So you can get a message to him?”

He raised his brows and gave her a cat-who-ate-the-cream smile.
“I can.”

She tried to rein in the quivering anticipation that leaped in
her belly. It was all to do with being close to getting Sean Callahan’s private
number and nothing to do with the way the peak of Finn’s top lip said, “Kiss
me.”

Nail
the
deal
. “I’ve been trying to meet with him for
weeks.”

“To discuss,” he raised his fingers, wiggling them like
quotation marks, “warehouses?”

It seemed an odd gesture but she nodded enthusiastically. “Do
you think you could arrange a meeting with him for me?”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the soft sound of the rasp of
stubble the only noise in the room. “I suppose I
could
set that up.”

Please, please, please. “But will you?”

He stretched his arm along the length of the couch and all the
hair on her body rose in a delicious tingle. She held her breath as she scanned
his face, everything hanging on his reply.

“Yes.”

Relief poured through her, setting up a euphoric swirl, and
this time she couldn’t stop the squeal of delight from erupting from her lips.
“Thank you. You have
no
idea how much I appreciate
this.”

“Oh, I think I do.” His palm curved around the back of her
neck, his fingers winding their way into the fallen tendrils of hair.

She stilled as the warmth of his hand built on the heat from
the Scotch, and then like a fireball it exploded into jubilation. Her head spun
even faster than when he’d pulled her into the room, and she pressed her hand to
his chest to stop herself from falling forward. “You’re right. You’ve made me
incredibly happy. Thank you.”

His eyes, like unfathomable pools of ink, stared down at her,
hypnotically, as if pulling her toward him. She automatically leaned in, kissing
him gratefully and briefly on the cheek.

Like a slow-motion sequence, his head dropped forward, his hair
tickling her forehead and then his lips touched hers, their pressure firm and
coaxing.

Shocked surprise hurtled through her and the tiniest part of
her said “Stop now” but it was silenced by the alcohol in her veins and the
sheer joy that she’d secured the interview.
It’s
just
a
kiss
. What did it matter if it was with a virtual
stranger—it made a crazy sort of sense given everything that had preceded it
this evening.

And it had been such a long time since she’d been kissed.

She opened her mouth under his and sighed. He tasted of malt,
of hot, starry summer nights and a tantalizing sense of long-lost joy. With her
hand still pressed against his chest, she curled her fingers under the gaps
between the studs of his formal shirt, and the tips met hot skin and taut
muscle. Her breath hitched and her palm itched to feel more.