Wanted: Billionaire's Wife Page 5

  Visions of unpaid bills, the result of ordering equipment before the deal closed, danced before his eyes. He’d never be able to find another investor or potential buyer in time to make payroll. Hundreds of people depended on him for their livelihoods. He had a responsibility to them. He couldn’t cause the deal to fail.

  But if he didn’t meet the Stavros Group’s conditions, then he would be removed from the company he founded. The company into which he poured sweat and toil and sleepless nights. The legacy he hoped to leave, taken away. His best chance of proving he was more than his family’s name and his inherited wealth.

  He slammed down the empty bottle, causing Danica to jump. At least he didn’t break the bottle. He wanted to. He wanted to smash it, then grind the pieces into dust.

  She reached out a hand and briefly brushed the back of his. “Everyone knows Ruby Hawk is a success because of you.”

  He took a deep breath, his emotions settling back into their usual, well-ordered positions. “My lawyers and I did a thorough reading of the clause,” he said. “In short, if I do not quote ‘curtail my libidinous lifestyle’ end quote, by the end of sixty days, then either the Stavros Group can pull out of the deal or the acquisition will go through but I will be removed. The only surefire way to fulfill the terms of the clause is to be married. A real marriage, not a pretend fiancée for a few months.”

  Danica blinked. “Wow. That’s extreme.”

  “That’s Nestor. Therefore, if I have to be married, I need a wife who is equipped to deal with the pressures that come with my world. That’s where you come in.”

  Danica leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. He couldn’t help but notice how her posture caused her silky blouse to drape tightly over her breasts. The fabric strained against the high, round globes, just the right size to fill his palms—no. Not his. He liked her, yes. But she was not the solution the situation required, but the means to the solution. His company and its future came ahead of any momentary personal pleasure.

  “So,” she said slowly, as if thinking through a problem, “if you’re willing to go to the trouble of hiring me to find you a stranger to marry so the acquisition will go through, why not marry Irene?”

  The beer in his stomach roiled. “I asked. She laughed in my face. This is about taking my company away, period.” He crumbled his napkin and threw it into the now-empty plastic basket. “You now have the background. Let’s discuss how you will find the right candidates. There are fifty-two days remaining.”

  “I have to admit, when you said I needed additional information, I thought you meant food preferences, favorite vacation spots, et cetera.” She blew a loose curl off her forehead.

  “Our discussion should make your job easier, not harder.”

  She laughed, a sharp burst of air. “You have that flipped.” She took her wallet out of her purse and offered him a twenty-dollar bill. “I hope this covers my dinner?”

  He pushed the money back at her. “That’s too much and besides, the company paid. Why is it harder?”

  She left the cash on the table. “So far, you’ve told me about you, your family and the Stavroses. What about the wife I’m supposed to find? Where does she fit into this?”

  It was a good question. He’d been so focused on the terms of the acquisition, he hadn’t thought beyond standing in front of a justice of the peace. He said the first thing that came to mind. “She’ll be well compensated.”

  Her gaze widened with what he could only call horror. “Money doesn’t make a marriage,” she stated, her syllables crisp and precise.

  He shrugged. “I beg to differ.”

  She leaned over the table, blond curls tumbling over her left shoulder, her words intense and fast. “When the war broke out in Croatia, my mother and father gave up everything to be together. Their families, their country, their religious communities. They came to the United States with barely a dime. But they had love, and that made us richer than most people I knew growing up.”

  Luke blinked, once. He had no idea her parents had been war refugees. “That’s admirable. It takes strength to start a new life.”

  Her features relaxed into a smile, a ray of sun peeking from behind a dark cloud. “Thank you. And love is what gave them that strength—”

  “It’s a good story. For them. But in my experience, marriage is best viewed a merger between two parties who desire a joint investment.” He shrugged. “Usually in children. But the parties also need to protect their individual assets. The right candidate will know that.” He gave the folder a decisive tap.

  * * *

  Danica rubbed her temples. She rarely got headaches, but it felt like a woodpecker and a jackhammer had had a baby in her skull, and the baby was throwing a tantrum. Luke couldn’t really believe the words coming out of his mouth.

  Could he?

  “I thought...” She paused. In the aftermath of their conversation, her assumptions seemed so naïve. “I thought you wanted to fall in love with someone. That’s why you hired me.”

  “It’s business. That’s why I hired an executive recruiter.”

  “But...love. Don’t you want that?”

  He looked as if he pitied her. “Humans confuse endorphins released during sex for love, and then they use the confusion to manipulate themselves and others. But it’s just a chemical reaction caused by hormones and preprogrammed neurological responses.” He held up a hand to stop her before she could speak. “I know. Your family. But trust me. I’ve seen my scenario play out far more times than I’ve seen yours.”

  How did someone with everything going for him—gorgeous looks, genius brain, socially prominent family, Midas’s wealth—have such a cynical outlook? It made her soul physically ache. She took her phone out of her tote and opened up the rideshare app.

  “I’ll have another list of candidates for you in the morning.” She swept her notebook into the bag and pulled the bag’s strap over her shoulder as she stood up. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  He stood up when she did. “I’d like to discuss this tonight. The clock is running.”

  The drumming in her skull would make a death-metal band proud. “Your criteria haven’t changed, so I’ll fine-tune the parameters. The difference will come in how I conduct interviews, to see if I can suss out if their attitude toward marriage matches yours.” She tried to smile but was only partially successful. “I’ll email you the list of candidates tonight, so you’ll have it in the morning. Thanks again for the burrito.”

  She turned on her heel and exited the restaurant, heading for the nearest street corner. The car she had ordered via the phone app should arrive soon to take her to the train station. And not a minute too early.

  How could he not want love? It was a basic human need, as necessary as sunshine and clean water. She knew people married for all sorts of reasons, love being only one of them, but it seemed so...cold-blooded the way he’d spelled it out.

  “Danica, wait.” Footsteps pounded on the sidewalk behind her.

  She tamped down on the traitorous anticipation swirling in her stomach and turned to face him. “Did I leave something at the restaurant?”

  He stepped under the streetlight. The mist-filled night air caused it to create a halo around his head. The very picture of an angelic devil.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick straight-up in patches. It made him look only more approachable and thus more attractive. “You think I’m doing this because of some long-standing feud. And maybe you’re right. But I’m also doing this for my team. I hand recruited them. They took stock options instead of salary when we started. Now they can cash in on their leap of faith. I’m not being as ruthless as you think I am.”

  He moved closer, tripping her pulse into overdrive. “That’s not what I’m thinking,” she said.

  He ga
ve her a one-sided smile. “You’re easier to read than you know.”

  Fine. She had been thinking that. She glanced over his shoulder and saw the youth basketball team exit the taqueria. The teenagers were laughing and horsing around as they said their goodbyes. It was a scene she had seen many times before, with her brother at the center of the action. Now her family didn’t know if Matt would be able to walk unassisted ever again.

  Her parents showed her love was real, but they also taught her family came first. If she successfully completed the search, the money Luke offered would give them much needed relief from financial worry. In a way, she was in just as much of a bind as he was.

  Besides, judging by the way he talked about his team, he was capable of caring—if only as the boss.

  “I know what it’s like to have your dream job disappear. For your team, I’ll do my best. But if I can be honest? Any marriage entered into under the conditions you describe is doomed to failure.”

  “I never fail.” A self-satisfied smirk played at the corners of his devastatingly attractive mouth.

  “There’s always a first time.”

  He leaned down until his warm breath caressed her cheek. “We’ll see.”

  An answering heat welled deep inside her, an insistent compulsion she needed to stop before she did something stupid, like use her hands to determine if his butt felt as muscular as it looked in his jeans. Thankfully, a car matching the description on her app pulled up to the curb. “That’s my ride.”

  She turned to say good-night at the same minute he reached to open the car door for her. They collided, her breasts colliding with the hard planes of his chest. She instinctively grabbed on to his biceps to hold herself steady, while his arms encircled her.

  Their gazes met, held. She couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. “Sorry,” he began.

  She shook her head, once. The fog swirled around them, shutting the world out until it consisted of just him, her and the awareness between them that could no longer be ignored. His gaze turned heavy, matching the heaviness between her legs, asking a question she answered by reaching up to bring his mouth down to hers.

  He responded immediately, his lips firm, hot, insistent. Supernovas pinwheeled behind her closed eyelids as his hands settled at her waist and drew her closer.

  She had wanted to kiss Luke Dallas since she saw him outside Johanna’s office. She doubted she could break away even if the sensible part of her brain managed to gain control. It had been so long since she had last been kissed.

  His tongue licked into her mouth, and she returned the favor. Her pulse thumped hard as his firm arms tightened around her. She heard a low moan and realized it came from her. Her skin needed to be next to his, the insistent desire building deep inside demanding to be fed.

  A car horn, loud and insistent, broke through the pleasurable haze surrounding her. She jumped away from him, raising a wondering hand to her swollen lips.

  He stared back at her, hands thrust into his jeans pockets, his gaze dark and wild.

  The horn honked again. Danica wrenched her gaze away from Luke to glance at the vehicle. “I need to go.”

  Luke nodded. “Right. So.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in the office. Safe travels home.”

  She nodded back. “See you in the office.” Somehow, she managed to slide into the back seat and sped off. Her last sight of Luke was him standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, staring after her car.

  Her mouth still bore the imprint of his, her core aching from unresolved need. Her thoughts twisted and churned, mimicking the roiling in her stomach. She’d kissed Luke! And he’d kissed her back. It exceeded any fantasy she’d ever had. For a second she basked in the recollection, reliving the pressure, the heat, the demand for more.

  Then a tsunami of horror washed away the joyous memory. What had they done? He’d hired her. She’d agreed to find him a wife. She needed the contract and the money it promised for her family. Did she just risk her job and thus her brother’s access to treatment?

  How would she be able to face Luke in the morning?

  Her lips would not stop burning.

  Four

  Danica walked the last few steps toward the main entrance of Ruby Hawk, her stomach doing a decent impersonation of a tumble dryer set on high. What would she say to Luke after their kiss last night? More important, what would he say to her?

  It was unprofessional to kiss a client in the best of circumstances. And this client was Luke Dallas, bad-boy billionaire of Silicon Valley, known for his countless flings with models, actresses and socialites. It wasn’t only unseemly; it was downright embarrassing.

  But he kissed you back. His mouth opened first, his tongue invited hers to tangle and slide against his. She couldn’t recall arriving home or getting into bed, but she remembered the perfect firmness of his mouth—not too hard, not too soft—and how his hand on the small of her back had burned through the silk of her blouse. She stumbled on a crack in the pavement and regained her balance at the last second.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been kissed before, she scolded herself. She was very familiar with the mechanics. No need to be so dramatic.

  She managed to make it to her office without twisting an ankle and turned on her computer. A message from Luke sat at the top of her email inbox. Her hand lingered over the mouse for a second before she took a deep breath and clicked to open it.

  It was short and to the point.

  I trust you now have the necessary information to find viable candidates. I’m on a flight to Tokyo but I expect a new list by the time I land.

  Any lingering warmth was doused. She clicked on Reply.

  Thank you for the dinner. Your input has been taken under advisement as requested.

  She attached the list she pulled together when last night’s sleep eluded her and hit Send. Really, it was the best of all possible outcomes. She was still employed and could still secure the bonus money he promised her. But when lunchtime rolled around, she realized she couldn’t remember a single email she’d read other than Luke’s.

  The next two weeks were spent chasing leads, the kiss eventually fading from her lips but playing on a continuous loop whenever she shut her eyes. Luke was mostly out of town. He jetted around the world, seeking a backup for the acquisition in case Nestor Stavros reneged as threatened. However, her speech about communication seemed to have sunk in, because he was quick to respond to a text or an email despite any time difference. Before long, the ding of a new text or email arriving became her favorite sound.

  She began the Monday of the third week with a satisfied sigh. Two of her candidates finally met Luke’s standards. He met the first one upon his return to California and immediately asked to see her again. While she was waiting to hear his feedback from the latest encounter, she went ahead and finalized the arrangements for him to meet the second candidate. All she needed was a third prospective wife, and then she would be out the door with an impressive check in hand and her professional integrity intact.

  There was only one glaring problem with completing her assignment. Success meant she’d no longer communicate with Luke. She may have buried the kiss, never to be spoken of again although it starred in her most erotic dreams, but she didn’t know if she could bury how much she looked forward to their daily exchanges.

  She opened a text message window and typed a message to Luke.

  All confirmed for tonight. Felicity Sommers will meet you at seven at the Peninsula Society fund-raiser in Atherton. I told her this is a callback for the community-

  giving job, and you want to meet her there so the two of you can discuss best practices.

  Danica had realized early on she needed a cover story for her search. She couldn’t tell the candidates up front they were being vetted as a possible wife for Luke Dallas—not if she wanted to keep the search out of the press. Therefo
re she told the women she was looking for a director to run Ruby Hawk’s community outreach and charitable giving. The job was open, so it wasn’t completely a lie.

  The rest was up to Luke. Thinking of him walking down the aisle with his recruited-to-order wife caused her heart to do flips, and not the pleasant kind. The kind that ended with every surface bruised and battered.

  Her computer dinged.

  Consider this confirmation of my meeting with Felicity. Remove Jayne Chung from consideration.

  Danica frowned at her screen. Jayne was the first candidate Luke had agreed to meet. On paper, she was perfect: Harvard educated, did a stint in the Peace Corps before receiving her master’s degree in urban planning and development, and currently worked for a nonprofit providing grants to create city gardens where none existed. Oh, and she’d paid for her education by modeling haute couture in New York and Paris during school breaks.

  I thought the first meeting went well. What’s wrong? She didn’t start the second meeting by swooning at your feet?

  Ha.

  I think kids these days say LOL.

  He ignored her attempt at levity.

  She’s not right for the position.

  If Jayne wasn’t right...

  More input, please.

  A wave of heat settled deep in her belly at the memory of just how visceral his input could be. Help me help you.

  No answer. She sat back in her chair. Usually he texted her back, even if it was just a curt Later.

  She sighed and shut down the text window. There was a simple reason why he didn’t respond: he ran a billion-dollar tech company and she was a consultant hired for one task.

  Speaking of, if his reaction to Jayne were any indication, she would need the third candidate sooner rather than later. Danica had liked Felicity, Luke’s current date, well enough when they met during the initial vetting period. But something had been a little...off. Felicity had set off a tiny warning light in the back of Danica’s mind.