The Billion Dollar Bad Boy (2 page)

Good things come …

He hadn’t intended the innuendo. But it was there all the same.

Abruptly her thick, dark lashes veiled her gaze as she put her cell back in the pocket of her jacket. “I don’t do waiting, Mr. Morrow. I do business.” Her voice sounded level, but he could hear the edge of something else underneath. A faint unsteadiness that hadn’t been there before. And he knew what that meant. It meant she’d felt that tension, too.

Jesus, if this conversation had happened in a club or a party, basically anywhere else, in any other context, he would have responded the way he always did to a woman he wanted: he would have seduced her there and then.

But this wasn’t a club or a party. This was a meeting room in Morrow Inc. This was business. And she was part of that business.

“Many apologies, Ms. de Winter,” he said. “But, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do both.”

She did not like that. Not one bit. Her mouth thinned, her posture became stiff. “Mr. Morrow—,” she began.

But as far as he was concerned, this meeting was over. “I’m sorry, but I’m late for my brother’s engagement party already and I don’t have the time to discuss this further. We’ll talk more on Friday.”

“Mr. Morrow—”

God, she wasn’t going to leave it alone, was she?

Donovan met her gaze. “Do you have an older brother, Victoria?”

Both the change of subject and the use of her name put her off guard. She blinked. “I … uh … Yes. I do.”

“In that case, you’ll know what I mean when I say he’ll have my balls if I’m any later.”

She blinked again. “Well … I …”

Donovan smiled and extended a hand toward the door, feeling a not unwelcome burst of satisfaction at finally—fucking finally—flustering her. “After you.”

*

Victoria de Winter didn’t turn around as the elevator doors closed. She clutched her briefcase and hit the button for the ground floor, studiously ignoring the man standing behind her.

Wonderful. She’d hoped Donovan Morrow would have lingered in his office after their meeting, but no, he just had to go ahead and get into the elevator with her. As if she didn’t hate everything about him enough already.

She’d never been able to understand the fuss the media made of him. He was the face of Morrow Incorporated, the biggest company in New York, and yet according to all the TV and magazine interviews she’d seen and read about, he gave the impression of being a lightweight. An amateur. An arrogant playboy more interested in parties than he was in business. He’d apparently run his own hugely successful public relations firm before his brother had lured him back to work for the family company so he must have been doing something right, but Victoria had no idea what it was.

The only certain thing was that having him shoot down her proposal was an aggravation she did not need, especially since she hadn’t expected it. Rumor had it that Jax Morrow was desperate to sell off the site of the old Morrow headquarters, so she’d gone in there expecting to seal the deal.

Unfortunately, Donovan didn’t seem to be as desperate as his brother and that had rattled her. He’d been charming but almost outright dismissive of the De Winter offer, which had been wholly unacceptable.

That’s not the only thing that rattled you though …

Victoria’s jaw tightened.

His smooth, dark voice. The soft, deep laugh that seemed to slip under her skin and wrap around her like an expensive fur coat. The easy, charming smile that turned the corners of his long, sensual mouth. The ridiculously beautiful, masculine lines of his face, all cheekbones, strong jaw, and the famous Morrow blue eyes.

But even worse had been the sheer charisma of the man. She’d seen it on TV but she’d never guessed it would be so intense close up, that she’d find it difficult to breathe as soon as those incredible blue-green eyes met hers. Impossible to prevent her heart from racing when she’d made the mistake of getting too close to him.

And she hated
that
most of all.

She was not attracted to him. Not in the slightest.

“So,” Donovan drawled from behind her. “Got any exciting plans for this evening?”

Victoria kept her gaze firmly on the doors in front of her. In the meeting room she’d had to fight to keep her reactions under control, to not let him see her stupid female response to him. She couldn’t afford a crack in her armor like that. Any hint of weakness could affect the balance of power, and when you were a woman in business that was a very bad thing indeed.

“Nothing that would interest you, I’m sure,” she said levelly.

“With all due respect, you have no idea what would interest me.”

Aggravating man. Her hands shifted on her briefcase handle. “Very well, if you must know, I’m going home.”

“Really? No parties? No night on the town with the girls?”

There was nothing but polite interest in his voice but it annoyed her all the same. “No. Just home.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly exciting.”

“Not everyone is interested in parties or … whatever it is men like you like to do.”

“Men like me … Interesting phrase. And what is it that you think men like me like to do?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Sit around reading Tolstoy?” She shifted her hold on her briefcase again, mentally going over what she’d have to report back to her father about the meeting. He wouldn’t be happy about the offer being refused, that was for damn sure.

But that would be okay. She was going to close this deal if it killed her.

Buying the iconic Morrow docklands estate was her baby. It had been de Winter land nearly half a century ago, land the Morrows had cheated out of her father’s grandfather—at least according to him. Cameron de Winter had wanted it back for years now and this was her big chance to get it. And hopefully prove herself to him in the bargain.

Prove that she was worthy of the de Winter name and of being his daughter, and not merely the adopted daughter he’d never wanted in the first place.

She could not afford to lose it.

“Tolstoy?” Donovan’s voice was bored. “If you’re going to insult my intelligence, at least have the decency to be subtle about it.”

In the mirrored doors of the elevator she could see him behind her, leaning against the rail that ran along the inside, arms braced along it, long fingers gripping the metal. Wearing the tux he had on when she’d first arrived for the meeting, the bow tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck. A couple of the top buttons of his shirt were also undone, revealing the smooth tanned skin at the base of his throat.

God. So sexy.

His gaze caught hers in the mirrored doors. And one corner of his mouth curled up in a smile so smug she knew he’d read her exact thought.

Crap.

Victoria tore her gaze away, her heart beating furiously. No, she wasn’t affected by him. Not in any way. Other women might be falling over themselves to climb into his bed but she wasn’t one of them. Not even if he was the last man on earth.

She had James, her fiancé, for a start.

“Subtle?” And thank God she sounded cool and together, not like some breathless teenager. “I wasn’t sure you’d be familiar with the concept of subtlety.”

He laughed, which only aggravated her more because it was so damn sexy. “Well, that’s true. It isn’t my strong point.”

In the doors she saw him move, pushing himself away from the rail. Straightening to his full height, which must have been well over six feet since he completely dwarfed her.

Victoria froze as he took a step toward her, but he didn’t do anything else. Merely stood behind her. Towering over her. Like he had back up in the meeting room. When she had to stand so very still because moving would have given her away. Close enough to catch the scent of his aftershave. Unexpected that he didn’t drench himself with overpowering scents the way some men seemed to. No, Donovan’s was understated. Luxurious. With hints of sandalwood and musk.

You like it.

No. Of course she didn’t.

“You don’t like me at all, do you?” he said conversationally.

Victoria ignored her physical responses, willing herself to remain cool and calm. “Actually, Mr. Morrow, I have no feelings about you either way.”

He gave a soft laugh, one that feathered down her spine, making her shiver. “Bullshit. You know what I think?”

“I’m not interested in what you think.”

“I think you have definite feelings about me.”

Victoria gritted her teeth, staring straight in front of her, bitterly conscious that all she needed to do was take a step back and she’d be pressed up against all that male heat. All that powerfully built muscle and smooth, brown skin …

Her breath caught. God, this was crazy. She’d never had such a reaction to a man before. Back in college she’d had a couple of steady boyfriends, ones her father approved of, and though she’d enjoyed their company, they’d never made her breathless. Never made her heart beat fast or her skin feel so sensitive she could feel every inch of clothing pressing against it.

Not even James makes you feel like that.

No, he didn’t. But sex wasn’t as important as people made out and it certainly wasn’t why she was marrying him.

“I hate to say it,” she said, trying to inject a small touch of boredom into her voice, “but you’re flattering yourself.” Steeling herself, she turned and met his turquoise eyes. “I really have no interest in you one way or another.”

He smiled down at her, lazy and sensual and so unbearably sexy. “You know, you really shouldn’t say things like that to a man like me.”

“Why not?” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to threaten me with a little Tolstoy perhaps? A few pages of
Anna Karenina
? A chapter of
War and Peace
?”

The amusement in his eyes deepened, taking on a wicked glint that had her catching her breath. His gaze flicked down her body, then back up again. “Perhaps I should. Judging from the way you’re blushing and the fact that your pupils are dilated, I’d say Tolstoy turns you on more than you’d like to admit.”

Oh, hell.
Something turned over inside her and for the first time since she’d met him, she caught a glimpse of why women fell over themselves to get into his bed. That smile. That naughty glint in his eyes …

She swallowed, forcing away the feelings. Holding up her hand instead, the one with James’s diamond sparkling on it, she gave her fingers a wiggle. “Read me all the Tolstoy you want. I’m afraid I’m already taken.”

“Pretty.” Yet his gaze wasn’t on the ring. It was on her throat. “But I don’t think it’s your fiancé making your pulse race right now.”

“No, of course it’s not my fiancé,” she said acidly. “It’s being stuck in an elevator with an asshole.”

“An asshole? Really? I’m offended, Ms. de Winter. Well and truly offended.” Except he didn’t look offended. If anything, that smile of his only widened. “When all I’ve done is make polite conversation with you. Unless, of course, you were offended by my Tolstoy reference. And if so then I’m sorry but you’ve only got yourself to blame for that, since you were the one who brought him up.”

Damn him.

Are you sure it’s him you should be damning? He hasn’t done a thing except fluster the hell out of you.

Insanity. She’d dealt with hundreds of men in the course of business and none of them, not a single one, had managed to get to her the way Donovan Morrow got to her.

She had to do something to regain her control. Show him who was boss.

“What?” he murmured. “No comeback? No steely eyed glare? You’re slipping, Ms. de Winter. I expected more.” He raised a hand and put his palm against the wall of the elevator beside her head and all the breath seemed to leave her body. What the hell was he doing?

And more to the point, why the hell was she just standing there?

The elevator pinged as it reached the ground floor, but Donovan calmly pressed the button that held the door shut.

Obviously he was preparing to make one of his infamous playboy moves. On her. The arrogant bastard. Well, to hell with that.

Victoria stared into his eyes. “You expected more? I bet you weren’t expecting this.” Then she reached up, grabbed his loose bow tie, and pulled his mouth down on hers, stealing his move from him.

She thought it would be nothing. A dry brush of lips like the kisses she shared with James. Emotionless and certainly not special.

She did not expect to burst into flame like dry tinder under a hot desert sun, everything in her curling up in the heat—her toes in her plain black pumps, her fingers curling around her briefcase, a tight knot of … something way down low in her stomach.

Almost automatically she closed her eyes, the kiss vibrating through her like a note through a tuning fork.

God, kisses shouldn’t do that to her. Kisses weren’t … hot.

Victoria pulled away, fighting for breath. Fighting to let nothing whatsoever show on her face. So she was able to look into his surprised blue eyes and say in a dry voice, “Is that the best you can do? Well, I have to be honest, Mr. Morrow. I expected more.”

Then before he could say a word, she turned and punched the button that would open the doors, and on unsteady legs, stepped out of the elevator and into the foyer.

Donovan let Victoria go, watching as she strode out of the elevator as cool as you please. As if she hadn’t just stolen his move.

As if the imprint of her mouth wasn’t still burning on his lips.

I bet you weren’t expecting this.

No, he had to confess, he hadn’t been. What he’d been anticipating was for her to blush. Stammer a bit. Be flustered. Drop that cool businesswoman front for a moment, not grab his damn tie and kiss him.

Okay, it hadn’t been a good move to mess with her, to ruffle her up a bit. But shit, the temperature in the elevator had plummeted below freezing the second he’d followed her into it and he was damned if he was going to get out just to make things easier for her.

And then her gaze had met his in the elevator’s mirrored doors and he’d seen it, that silver flash in her eyes. Felt that rising sexual tension. Then she’d made that disparaging quip about Tolstoy, so dismissive. Like she knew him. And … well. He’d gotten pissed. And then things had gotten out of hand.