Fortune's Proposal

Their telephone conversation—if the argument that had ensued could be called that—had disintegrated from there.

Drew was still stinging from it.

“I’ll be damned if I’ll work for somebody else at what should be my own freaking company.”

Her brows drew together, creating a little vertical line between them. “You’d just give it up, then?” She lifted her hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Walk away from everything you’ve worked for?”

“It’s not like I have any women around I’d remotely consider marrying. Dad decided to marry Lily and look what happened. He’s lost his marbles.”

“I—I’m stunned,” she said after a moment. “I don’t know what to say.”

He scrubbed his hands down his face and leaned back in his chair again, watching his assistant through his narrowed eyes.

But his mind was still replaying the argument with his father.

Despite his wedding to Lily scheduled for the following day—a new year and a new life with his new wife—William had had the cojones to bring up Drew’s mother, Molly. To use her memory as a tool in his arsenal against Drew’s footloose lifestyle.

That had been the ultimate slam.

And he’d responded in kind. If William were so concerned about Molly, then what the hell was he doing getting married again?

Drew pinched his nose and closed his eyes again. The angry words still circled in his head. “As if a marriage certificate has anything to do with success,” he muttered. “It’s insane.” He looked at Deanna.

She was sitting straight as a poker in her chair. Instead of twisting the life out of her jacket, her hands were now twisted together in her lap. She still had that frown etched on her face and her eyes were dark with concern. “I, um, imagine for you, marriage certainly is a deal breaker.”

And Drew had never failed to close a deal.

He’d always had the singular ability to put the right pieces together, even when people—including his father—said it would be impossible.

His brain suddenly shifted. Boulders rolled and he saw a glimmer of light. “This is a deal,” he murmured, wondering why he hadn’t seen it before.

Maybe Deanna was right. He’d heard marriage, and the wiring in his brain had short-circuited.

Her eyebrows had climbed up her smooth forehead. “Excuse me?”

“A deal.” He sat forward. For the first time that day he felt a grin hit him. “And all I need is a signed marriage license to seal it.”

The corners of her lips curved in response to his, but she was still watching him warily. “Usually that involves a marriage,” she pointed out. “Which you’ve already said you’re not interested in.”

“I’m not,” he assured. “But a marriage license just comes with wedding. All I need for that is a wife.”

She lifted her hands. “Exactly.”

“I can hire a wife.”

She blinked for a moment. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Sometimes you need specialized people at the table to close a deal. I just need the right woman to agree to the terms.”

“Which are what?”

“Sign the paper, say ‘I do’ and then act like my wife for a short while—long enough for Dad to calm down, retire like he’s planned to do all along and name me as his replacement—then go on her way.”

She snorted softly and shook her head. Her hair gleamed under the overhead light. “Do I need to remind you that the women you usually date—before they reach the three-month expiration, that is—will be looking for a whole lot more out of your deal than going on her way?”

Because he usually marked his way out of his brief romantic entanglements with gifts of jewelry that Deanna arranged for him, she had a point.

“I’d need someone convincing,” he mused. He drummed his fingers on the desk as his thoughts coalesced into the perfect solution.

He looked his assistant square in the eyes.

“Someone like you.”

Chapter Two

Like her?

Alarm had Deanna shooting out of her chair. “Now I think you’ve lost your marbles.”

But Drew was sitting there in his chair as calm now as he’d been agitated earlier, and she felt her stomach sink even lower when he picked up the hat he’d discarded earlier and put it on.

Backward.

The small scar near his hairline that showed because of it gave him a particularly rakish look.

“It’s the perfect solution,” he reasoned. The faint dimple in his cheek appeared.

She gaped. “You are mad.”

He spread his hands, his palms upward. “Think it through, Dee. If a new CEO is named—someone from outside—what’s the likelihood that you and everyone else who’s worked here will get to stay? Bring in a new person at the top and changes are bound to trickle down. It’s the nature of the beast.”

A fresh wave of panic began forming at the edges of her sanity. “You already said that a new CEO wouldn’t mean closing this office.”

“Closing is one thing. Clearing the decks to bring in his—” he shrugged “—or her, I suppose—own people is not unusual, though. If I were going into a new place, I’d want some of my own people around me. Dad will officially be retired by then. Living permanently in Texas. He’s the one ready to bring in new blood. You think he hasn’t realized the ramifications to the people who’ve worked for him all along?”

“I can’t believe that your father wouldn’t have some plan for that. I’ve met him. He’s a very caring person!”

“He’s a man who has made it plain that he is starting his new life, no matter how it affects everyone else, including his own family,” Drew said flatly, and his dimple was nowhere in evidence.

Her knees suddenly felt wobbly and she closed her hands over the back of the chair where she’d been sitting.

She needed her job. Now, more than ever.

And while she felt certain that she’d be able to find alternate work if she had to, she knew that she’d never be able to start out at the pay level that she’d risen to at Fortune Forecasting.

She wasn’t getting rich by any means, but she made enough to keep her head above water … and until Gigi’s latest spending jag … hers, too.

“Nobody would believe that you and I … That we … well, that we—”

“—were in love? “

She could practically see the calculating wheels turning in his mind when he picked up a pen and began drumming the end of it on his desk.

“Why not?” he asked. “I think it’ll make perfect sense to anyone who bothers to think about it. My whole family knows that you’re the only female who has been in my life for longer than a twelve-week stretch.”

“Sure. Because you pay me well and usually leave me alone to do my job!” She shook her head. “I’m not even your type.”

He looked amused and the dimple was definitely back. “And what type would that be?”

“Six feet tall, blonde and big-chested.”

“Sounds like you’re describing the guy who runs the magazine stand down in the lobby.”

She grimaced. “Hilarious. You know exactly the kind of woman I mean. The only kind you ever date more than twice.” She could count on one hand the number of women he’d seen who’d had more interest in him than the size of his bank account or what they could get out of being on Drew Fortune’s arm for a while.

None of those women had ever made it past a second date with him; he’d made certain of that.

His pen was still tapping. “I do know what you mean. And you’re right. You are not a gold digger,” he said smoothly. “Nobody could ever make the mistake of thinking that. You’ve worked by my side for four years now. You’re the soul of discretion, you’re calm and sensible. Hell, if we’re honest here, my father will probably think you’re too good for me.”

He made her sound like a lap dog.

She shook off the unwanted shard of pique as she shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m even standing here discussing this with you. It’s insane. And I have friends still waiting for me. So am I supposed to distribute your article or was that whole episode just an exercise on your part to exert your power one last time before you take to the road?”

He ignored that. “One year of your time, Deanna, for a simple business deal. A marriage of convenience. Hands-strictly-off, right? So what’s that worth to you? A raise? A promotion? A new title?”

“No! I don’t want any of those things! Not when it’s a simple business deal that involves getting married to you—however you want to describe it—and lying to your own father about the real reason for it!”

“And you think what he’s demanding is all that reasonable?” he shot back.

She pressed her lips together. Because, if everything that Drew said was true, then of course she didn’t think it was reasonable at all.

Yes, Drew played hard.

But he worked even harder.

And she’d worked for him long enough to know that there was nothing he valued more than the company that his father had founded.

She raked her hands through her hair and turned away from the chair to pace across the office. Her knees were still shaking, but that was nothing compared to the quivering going on inside her belly.

Marry Drew Fortune?

Her?

Nerves skittered through her.

She paced back. “How do I even know that you’re not exaggerating the situation? “

He gave her a look. “For what purpose? To get myself a wife? Come on, Dee.”

She flushed. All right. So that was pretty unlikely, given Drew’s opinion about marriage. And if he weren’t practically allergic to the very idea of it, he’d have had ample opportunity to find a wife among the scores of women he’d dated. Just because she’d considered the majority of them to be shallow twits didn’t mean that he had to think of them the same way.

He got up and rounded his desk and her nerves reached a screaming pitch when he dropped his arm over her shoulder.

The warmth of him seared her right through the lightweight wool of her suit and she felt like she might scream right out loud to match those nerves, note for note.

“You always play fair, Deanna,” he coaxed smoothly. “Think about all the people who’re going to be affected by this.”

“Don’t try to schmooze me, Drew Fortune. I’m immune, remember?”

If only.

She shrugged out from beneath his easy, buddy-to-buddy arm, putting some much-needed space between them. “I’ve seen you in action too many times before.”

“Fair enough.” He exhaled and sat on the edge of his desk. “I need you, Deanna. Trust me. We can make this work.”

His words sounded so sincere that he could have been trying to persuade her to marry him for real. Forever.

Her throat felt infuriatingly tight. “For a year,” she reminded.

He gave a brief nod in acknowledgment. “Don’t make it sound so horrible. Since the dawn of time, people have been making marriages of convenience.”

She almost laughed. “Somehow I never thought that term would ever pass your lips.”

He grimaced. “True enough. But my point is that plenty of people have married for reasons that had nothing to do with love.”

“Well, pardon me, but I never figured that I would be one of them!”

“I never figured I’d be forced to barter for the company that I’ve earned the right to run with a marriage license, either. S … tuff happens.”

How well she knew that.

She had only to think about her mother if she wanted proof.

He flipped off his hat and tossed it unerringly onto the iron-armed coat stand that he’d once told her had been a gift from his mother and watched her. “I don’t expect you to get nothing out of this, either,” he said seriously.

Which made her all the more nervous.

She had defenses against Drew the Schmoozer and Drew the Charmer. She could trade insincere banter with him until the cows came home.

But when he dropped the tactics? When he was just Drew Fortune, straight talking and perfectly sincere?

That’s when she knew she was wading in waters much too deep for her peace of mind.

“I told you. There’s nothing I want,” she insisted.

He stood again and closed the distance between them. It took all of her willpower not to nervously back away. And when he reached out an arm toward her, she positively froze.

But all he did was reach into her pocket and withdraw her cell phone that had been buzzing almost constantly since she’d stuck it there. He held it up so that she could see the display.

Gigi, it read.

“Not even to send your mother on a vacation of her own?”

She grabbed the phone, and this time, she did power it off. Her mother could call the office line all she wanted. At the moment, Deanna considered that a lesser problem than Drew. “It would take more than a vacation to solve the matter of Gigi.”

“What would it take?”

She huffed and threw out her hands. “About fifty grand.” Which might as well be fifty million because it was just as unattainable. And the admission was just proof that his so-called proposal had sent her sense of discretion right into orbit and no matter what it looked like to him, she took a step backward. Then another. “So, I still need an answer about your article,” she reminded, feeling almost desperate to get them back on track. Work track.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “If it’s ready to send, then send it,” he said after a moment.

Surprise had her feeling uneasy.

She nodded anyway, taking him at face value and returned to her desk. Within minutes she’d sent the article off into the magical cosmos of electronic mail as well as to the newspaper editor who was printing it.

Her work done, she shut down the computer, pulled her purse out of the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet and locked up her desk.

Drew hadn’t come out of his office. She could see him sitting in his chair again, but he’d swiveled it around so that he was facing the windows.

She told herself that she didn’t want to be a part of his charade, but she also couldn’t just walk out of the office as if nothing at all had happened. He’d been a good and fair—if sometimes challenging—boss to her. To everyone who worked in the San Diego office, for that matter.

Which was exactly the reason why they’d all been willing to give up even a portion of their holiday evening when he’d asked.

She sighed and dropped her purse next to the baseball bat on the chair he’d beat before going back into his office. She could see him reflected in the dark windows. “What are you going to do?”

He looked at the window as if it were a mirror, meeting her gaze there. “What are you going to do?” He turned in his chair until he was facing her again, and he set his own cell phone down on the center of his leather desk blotter. “Your mother lost her job again.”

She looked from his phone to his face. Horror warred with anger. “What’d you do? Call her?”

“I called Joe Winston. Remember, he’s the HR head over at Blake & Philips?”

Her mouth went dry. Blake & Philips was the law firm her mother had worked for … until a few months ago when she’d been fired. And the only reason that Drew knew that Gigi had worked there was because he was the one who’d told Deanna a year ago that his college buddy, Joe, was looking for legal secretaries and he knew that her mother—between jobs, again—had been worried about losing her house if she didn’t find work soon.

More like Deanna was worried about her mother losing her house, because she’d been the one trying to pay Gigi’s mortgage as well as her own rent.

“That was none of your business,” she said stiffly.

“We’re supposed to be golfing next week,” he went on. “He thinks I called to tell him our tee time.”

Embarrassment burned inside her. “And you just happened to mention my mother’s name?”

“I didn’t bring her up at all.”

“Right. How else would you know?”

His gaze was steady. “You’ve worked for me for a while, Dee. Just because you don’t go around airing your personal business as much as most of the people do around here, doesn’t mean I haven’t picked up some things. And your mother goes through jobs like I go through—”

“—women?” she inserted caustically.

“I was going to say shirts.” He sat back in his chair, his hand slowly turning his cell phone end over end. “Joe didn’t have to mention your mother. All I had to do was make an educated guess and watch your face.”

Which she could feel burning now. “Fine. Yes, my mother lost her job. Again. Story of our lives.” But only part of the story. “She’ll find another one.” She always did.

Another job. Another unattainable man to make a play for that always ended in a dramatic parting of employment when it didn’t work out. Another reason to go off the financial deep end and expect Deanna to “save” her.

“Your article is sent.” She pulled back her sleeve and looked at her watch. “And you’re supposed to be at the airport soon. Try not to grimace all through your father’s wedding tomorrow.” She turned on her heel. “It’ll ruin the family pictures.”

“I’ll give you the fifty grand.” His low voice followed her.

Her feet dragged in the carpet, coming to a stop. She didn’t look at him. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

He was silent, but her nape prickled and she knew he’d left his desk and was walking up behind her. “You wouldn’t have if you weren’t upset about it.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. On one hand, it was unnerving to think that he knew her that well. On the other hand, was she really surprised? There was a reason why they worked well together and she was realistic enough to know that that wasn’t only because of her understanding of him. “I don’t want your money.”

“But do you need it?” He touched her arm, moving around until he was in front of her. “Hey.” He nudged her chin until she couldn’t avoid looking at him. His faint smile was crooked. And sympathetic. “I don’t want to get married. But I need to.”

She could feel a burning deep behind her eyes and because she couldn’t will it away, hoped to heaven that it would just stay where it was because she’d be darned if she’d cry in front of her boss. “Even if I … agreed … the money would just be a quick-fix for Gigi’s problem.”

“Which is what?”

She looked up at him and found her gaze trapped in his. “She has a shopping addiction.”

His brows twitched together. “What?”

At least he hadn’t laughed.

She sighed and moved the bat and her purse from the chair, sinking down onto it.

“A shopping addiction. And not the kind of thing people are often teasing women about, either. She doesn’t just like to go out shopping for shoes or … whatever.” She waved her hand. “When Gigi’s … between jobs—” which in Gigi-speak really meant between the men with whom she inevitably got unwisely involved “—she gets depressed. And when she gets depressed, she shops. Online or on the home shopping networks. It doesn’t matter which and it doesn’t matter what. She orders stuff that she neither needs nor can afford. And it doesn’t matter what I say or what I do, she won’t stop and she won’t get help.”

She pressed her palms together, staring at her bare fingers. “She’s behind on her mortgage again, she’s managed to open new credit cards that I didn’t even know she had and she figures that I ought to be able to solve it all for her.”

“Why you?”

“Because I’ve been paying things off for her since I got my first job when I was fifteen.” The year her father had left. The year that Gigi started blaming Deanna for her very existence. “As long as I continue bailing her out, she’s never going to get the help she needs.” Deanna had finally faced that truth because she had sought the counseling that her mother refused to believe she needed.

“At least you realize that.”

“Realizing it and being able to stick to it are two different things.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “It’s not easy to say no to your own mother.”

“It’s not all that easy to say no to your father, either.” He crouched down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “We can help each other here, you know.”

His hands were warm and steady and nearly dwarfed hers. “It’s not a, uh, a good idea. Getting involved at the workplace never is.” She felt that threatening burn get even hotter. “That’s what my mother does, and it never leads to anything but disaster.” Certainly not the fairytale wedding Gigi kept hoping for.

“People have been marrying the boss for centuries. There doesn’t have to be anything wrong with that.”

“Right. When the two people are actually in love.” She realized her fingers had slid through his until they were twined together. She pulled her hands free and wrapped them over the arms of the chair. “And, like I said, throwing money on the situation doesn’t solve the ultimate problem.”

“Then we’ll get your mother into counseling. For as long as it takes. Even after our arrangement is ended.”

She pressed her fingers harder into the upholstery to keep them from trembling. “She’ll refuse. She always does.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t. We’ll find a way.”

“We?”

He covered her hands with his. “Yeah, we.”

Her heart was climbing in her chest. She felt lightheaded. She hadn’t had any support where her mother was concerned since her father walked out the door and never came back.

It had been just her.

Drew was watching her with that steady gaze and his voice, so quietly assured, was ringing in her head.

We.

The lure of that word alone seemed impossible to resist. “Okay,” she whispered and felt a shudder work down her spine.

His gaze sharpened. “You’ll marry me?”

She swallowed hard and had to clear her throat. “Yes.”

His smile was sudden and nearly blinding. “I’ve always said you are the perfect assistant!” He straightened and leaned over her, pressing a fast kiss to her forehead before turning away. “This is going to work out perfectly,” he was saying as he strode back into his office. “You’ll come with me to Red Rock. We’ll announce it there.”

Deanna could hear his raised voice. Could understand his words even.

But she couldn’t do much of anything but stare at her tidy desk across from her and feel the imprint of his lips as if they were still grazing her skin.

“Dee, how fast can you pack?”

She scrubbed her hands down her cheeks, attempting to drag her utterly rattled self back together. “C-couldn’t you just tell your dad about us? I’d feel like I’m intruding if I go with you to Texas.”

He reappeared in his doorway. The ball cap was back on his head—backward—and the dimple was back in his cheek.

He was also holding up a bottle of champagne that had been delivered that afternoon from one of his clients.

“I’m pretty sure my fiancée would be welcome at a family event,” he said drily. “More than that, she’ll be expected.” He waved the end of the bottle in front of her. “Call the pilot again. Tell him we’ll be an hour later than I planned.”

Deanna felt a ridiculous surge of laughter. Or maybe it was simply that she was on the verge of hysteria.

Had she really agreed to marry him?

“I already built in an hour cushion when I rescheduled your flight the last time I talked to him,” she admitted.

His eyebrows shot up. “Sounds like you were handling me.” Then he grinned again. “Well done.”

She managed a weak smile.

“Come on. We’ll pop open this baby and celebrate. Get a few glasses, would you?” He went back into his office. “And you should let your girlfriends know you won’t be making it to the spa after all.”

She very nearly slapped her hand against her forehead. She’d completely forgotten about her friends. She pulled out her cell phone and turned it on again. Ignoring the little indicator that told her she had messages waiting, she quickly called Susan, the one who’d arranged the weekend, and left her own message when her friend didn’t answer.

And then, holding the phone, she debated whether to call Gigi. Her mother already expected her to be gone for the long weekend. That hadn’t changed, even if Deanna’s destination had.