Bachelor's Bought Bride / CEO's Expectant Secretary: Bachelor's Bought Bride / CEO's Expectant Secretary

“Thanks. Let me get my bag.” She slung the small beaded vintage purse, which used to belong to her mom, over her shoulder. “I’m looking forward to the exhibit.”

“Me, too.” She turned to see him staring at her, a furrow between his brows.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, no.” He blinked. “No, nothing at all.” He glanced lower, taking in the soft drape of her new dress over her hips. Her skin hummed under his hungry gaze.

He does find me attractive.

The feeling was utterly new, a strange and surprising thrill. She pulled her shoulders back, trying to maintain the posture Elle had showed her, and to hide the fact that her pulse was still pounding and her palms sweating, despite her composed appearance.

Gavin cleared his throat. “My car’s downstairs.”

They walked into the Razor gallery arm in arm. She was only a couple of inches shorter than him in her new heels. Eyes, once again, turned to stare. But this time they weren’t glares of female indignation that she—lowly and insignificant plain Jane—was on Gavin’s arm.

No, this time the men were looking, too.

Bree tossed her curls behind her shoulders as she accepted a glass of white wine. “Shall we look at the images?”

Even her voice sounded sultrier, as if overnight she’d morphed into a more sophisticated version of herself.

They looked closely at the photographs. Large digital prints of people, mostly at parties and nightclubs, the colors highly saturated and intoxicating. “I can almost hear the music,” she said, looking at a couple entwined on a dance floor, perspiration gleaming on their barely clad bodies.

“That’s why I like Doug’s images. They invoke the other senses. I’m hoping he’ll do a vodka campaign I have in mind. It’s hard to make a flat piece of paper say ‘drink me,’ but I think this guy could pull it off.” He pointed the artist out to Bree—a short, skinny guy with numerous piercings, a goatee and an air of manic enthusiasm.

“Now, he looks like an artist,” she whispered. “Maybe I need to pierce my nose. What do you think?” She tilted her head, fighting the urge to grin.

“Definitely not. Your nose is absolutely perfect already.” Gavin’s warm gray gaze rested on her face. Her skin sizzled slightly under the heat of his admiration. “Your eyes are green.”

“Yes.” She blushed. “I got contacts.” Elle had talked her into trying tinted ones.

“They’re cute. And I can see you better without glasses in the way.”

“Aren’t we here to look at art? I’m starting to feel self-conscious.”

Though she had to admit it was a good feeling to be admired. When Gavin went to get them fresh glasses of wine, a tall man with spiky blond hair approached her and made small talk about the images.

The look on Gavin’s face when he returned was priceless.

He had to get Bree out of here.

Gavin tried not to scowl at the punk who’d horned in on her while he turned his back for a moment. He recognized the guy, a Finnish video editor with a tinny laugh. They’d worked together on a storyboard. “Hey, Lars. How’s it going?”

“Good, Gavin. Good.” He turned his gel-crusted head back to Bree. “So you’re a photographer, too?”

“Yes.” Bree smiled sweetly. Gavin hadn’t noticed how full and lush her lips were before. Lust mingled with irritation in his veins. “Well, kind of. I haven’t actually done a professional shoot yet.”

“Bree and I were just heading out to dinner.” His statement was more of a growl than he’d intended.

Every man in the room was looking at her. And who could blame them? The richly colored dress draped her curves in a way that should be illegal. In her heels she was probably the tallest women in the room, and with the regal tilt of her head and her cascade of shiny gold-tipped curls, she shone like a goddess.

“I’d love to take a quick peek at the images in the next room. Lars was just telling me about them. They’re portraits of the artist’s friends.”

Gavin decided he’d like to tell Lars a thing or two. But he resisted the primal urges surging in his blood. “Sure, let’s go look.”

He slid his arm through Bree’s, claiming her, and guided her across the floor. He couldn’t resist scowling at one dark-haired charmer who shot Bree a look so flirtatious it was downright tacky.

“Oh, look at this sweet couple,” she exclaimed. He peered into a small square-framed image. A pair of teenage lovers were wrapped in each other on a park bench.

Gavin could readily imagine being in such a clinch with Bree. Her lush curves called out to him, urging his palms to explore their hills and valleys.

Arousal surged through him, and he tugged his gaze from Bree’s breathtaking cleavage back to the artwork at hand. “Very nice,” he murmured.

She tossed her cascade of curls behind her shoulder. He could almost swear her hair looked totally different last time he’d seen her. It had been tied back—maybe that was it.

It wasn’t just the hair. Something was very different about Bree. She’d been pretty in a quiet and unassuming way when they’d met. Now she was undeniably a knockout. Even the way she carried herself seemed altered. Before, her shoulders were rounded, apologetic. Now she threw them back proudly.

Her stiff evening gown had concealed her body at the gala. This drapey number revealed it in tantalizing detail—her backside was a work of art all by itself. His fingers itched to pull at the bow tied her waist and unwrap the delicious present in front of him. “Are you hungry?”

Because I know I am. And not for food.

And her father was going to give him a million dollars to marry her? He’d approached the renowned venture capitalist to discuss an investment in his proposed business, and Kincannon had shocked him with his own proposal: one million dollars and his still-unwed daughter. Gavin’s first instinct had been to refuse, but he agreed to meet her. Now, his good fortune seemed almost unbelievable. And he certainly didn’t want to blow it by letting some wiseass muscle in on his prize.

“Uh, sure. What did you have in mind?” She blinked, those rich green eyes shining in a way they hadn’t behind her glasses. “There’s a good Thai place about a block away.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.” He wrapped his arm firmly around her waist as they moved back to the main gallery. No way would he let another guy get his hooks into Bree Kincannon.

He shot a warning stare around the room. Hands off. She’s mine.

Her hips shifted from side to side under his arm, stirring heat in his groin. His pursuit of Bree was fast morphing from a business proposition into a personal quest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aroused by a woman.

At the restaurant he requested a quiet table in the back room—a gold spangled festival of Thai kitsch—where they could talk undisturbed. He admired the rear view as he helped Bree into her chair.

She shook out her napkin. “The pad thai’s really good.”

“I’ll get that then.” He didn’t feel like reading the menu. He was far more interested in looking at her. A tiny silver heart hung from a fine chain around her neck, dancing dangerously near the enticing cleft between her breasts.

Now all he had to do was convince Bree he should be her future husband.

He poured some San Pellegrino into her glass. “Have you always lived in San Francisco?”

“We used to spend summers in Napa Valley when I was little, before my mom died, but other than that, yes. I’ve lived in the same house in Russian Hill since I was a baby.”

“That’s a lovely neighborhood.”

“I suspect that’s what my ancestors said when they built the house a hundred years ago. It’s lasted through several earthquakes and is big enough for me to share with my father without us driving each other nuts, so I’m very fond of it.”

“Is it strange still living at home with your dad?”

“I’m used to it, so it’s not at all strange to me. I’m sure some people think it’s a bit pathetic and that I should strike out on my own.” She sipped her water. “I suppose I will someday. When the moment is right.”

Phew. Gavin didn’t much fancy sharing a house with the old man. Especially since Elliott Kincannon was about to become his benefactor.

“Does your family live in San Francisco?” Her innocent question tugged him back to the present.

“San Diego, but I moved away from home when I was seventeen and never looked back. My dad wanted me to follow family tradition and join the military. He was furious when I applied to UCLA and got a full scholarship to study marketing. We had a big blowup and I left that night.”

“How awful! Did you patch things up?”

“It took about four years for him to give up his dreams of seeing me in a dress uniform covered in medals, but he’s happy that I’m successful doing something I like.”

“That’s all that matters, really, isn’t it? My dad couldn’t understand why I kept taking jobs at nonprofit organizations that paid me less than my age. I enjoyed the work and was glad to help. And since I already had a nice place to live, I didn’t need to rake in big bucks.”

“You’re lucky. I had a tough time right out of school. I was ready to take on the world and become CEO of General Electric, and my boss kept wanting me to file his papers and answer his phone instead.”

Bree laughed. “Trust me, it’s not much different at a nonprofit. Though there are less people so you have to pitch in more. I think it’s good to start at the bottom—then you get a chance to watch how other people do things.”

“And learn from their mistakes.”

“That, too.” Her bright smile flashed again, sending a charge of excitement through him. “Do you like working for Maddox Communications?”

“Sure. It’s one of the top agencies on the West Coast. We have some of the biggest clients in America.”

She cocked her head slightly. “Hmm, those are awfully generic reasons to like a place.”

“I like Brock and Flynn Maddox, too. They inherited the family business from their dad, but they’ve done a lot with it.”

Was it wise to tell her he wanted to strike out on his own? Probably not. Then she might start wondering if he was more interested in her funds than in her.

They gave their orders to the waiter, who quickly returned with their beers.

“I suspect my dad is disappointed that I don’t want to be a venture capitalist.” Bree raised her brows. “He can’t understand why anyone would do something unless there’s a profit involved.”

“Crazy.” Gavin managed to keep a straight face.

“I swear, I think the reason he never married again is that he couldn’t find anyone richer than himself to marry!”

Bree laughed, and Gavin forced himself to join in. He had to make sure she never found out about her dad’s proposition. “What do you think is a good reason to get married?” He poured some beer into her glass.

Bree looked up, as if studying the patterned ceiling for an answer. “Love, I suppose. What other reason could there be?”

His stomach clenched slightly. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Not since third grade. Randy Plimpton broke my heart so badly when he sat with Jessica Slade at the end-of-year picnic that I never recovered.” A mischievous sparkle lit her eyes.

“That sounds devastating. I can see how you’d never trust your heart to a man again.”

“That’s how I felt. I guess that must explain why I’ve never even had a real boyfriend.” Her cheeks colored slightly.

“That Randy has a lot to answer for. On the other hand, if you’d had a serious boyfriend you might have married him. Then you wouldn’t be sitting here sipping Thai beer with me.” He raised his glass.

“I guess there’s a good side to everything.” Bree clinked her glass against his and took a sip. Her adorable nose wrinkled. “I don’t drink much, either. I’ve led a very dull life, really.”

“Perhaps that’s all about to change.”

Bree’s eyes widened. “Do you think?”

“I do. I have a funny feeling about it.” He cocked his head and let his gaze drift over her face. Her lips parted slightly, moist, as if they’d like to be kissed.

Which hopefully they would be in the very near future.

Bree took a tentative sip of the golden liquid, then blinked as she swallowed it down. “You know what? I’m ready for change. I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines of life. I’m ready to get out and enjoy it more.”

Their pad thai arrived, steaming and fragrant with basil. They ate in silence for a few moments. Then Gavin decided to head deeper into dangerous territory.

“I’ve had girlfriends before, but never one that I thought was ‘the one.’”

“I wonder how it’s different. If you just know a person is the one you’ll spend the rest of your life with.” Her smooth brow wrinkled slightly. “That must be an amazing feeling.”

“I hear it happens fast.”

Her brows rose. “Love at first sight?”

“Something like that. The person just clicks with you.”

Bree inhaled deeply, which drew his gaze to her bosom. Gavin’s arousal thickened at the sight of her full breasts under the clingy dress.

She looked up at him, eyes soft. “I hope I’ll find that one day. You know, someone I can feel totally comfortable with.”

Maybe you already have.

Gavin tilted his head. “It could be the kind of thing that sneaks up on you as you get to know the person.”

“You mean like one minute they’re a friend and the next … you can’t keep your hands off them?” She giggled.

“I’m sure that happens to people all the time.” Her laugh tickled something deep inside him. “Probably just when they least expect it.”

Gavin dropped Bree home and said goodbye with a restrained peck on the cheek. She didn’t invite him in, though she looked as if she wanted to. He wanted to keep things slow and steady, rather than rush in too hot and heavy and possibly scare her off.

For their next date, he invited her to a jazz concert at the Palace of Fine Arts. For dinner he brought a carefully packed picnic from the gourmet store near his apartment, and a bottle of champagne. Bree, resplendent in a midnight blue dress and sparkly silver earrings, blushed with delight as he spread a blanket under a huge shade tree on the grounds and unpacked the food. The weather was warm and calm.

“I’ve always wanted to come for a picnic here,” she exclaimed. “It’s got to be one of the most romantic spots in the city.”

He looked up from the feast he was unpacking. “Tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

“Look at the way the sunset lights up the lagoon.” The expanse of water shimmered like liquid gold. Around them other couples and groups laughed and dined and took in the beauty of the spring evening. “The city has so many interesting places. You could live here for decades and never visit them all.

“And what a shame that would be.” Bree unwrapped a lacquer box filled with stuffed grape leaves. “Ooh, one of my favorites. I swear the Kincannons must have Greek ancestry somewhere. We’re all crazy about Greek food.”

“You fit right in with the architecture then. Or is this Roman?” He glanced up at the heavily ornamented Corinthian style columns that adorned the massive buildings nestled around the lake.

Bree laughed. “They were built in 1915 for the World’s Fair here in San Francisco. I’d call them World’s Fair Classical. I love how ‘over the top’ they are. The original buildings were made of paper, and only meant to last a year. They proved pretty sturdy and by the time they started to fall down decades later, everyone was so attached to the place that they decided to rebuild it permanently.”

The fading sun gleamed in her curls, lighting up the gold highlights. Her skin shone, cheeks still pink with excitement. He wanted to kiss her right now….

But he resisted. “How do you know so much about everything?”

“Just curious, I guess. And I have lived here my whole life.”

“Do you plan to spend the rest of your life here?” He wasn’t entirely sure why he asked. Did he want to find out if she had a life plan already mapped out, and if so, if she’d be happy to reconfigure it for him?

She frowned slightly, then smiled. “I don’t know. I guess it all depends on where life takes me.”

“As a photographer you can work anywhere.”

She laughed. “I still don’t think of myself as a photographer. I’ve only been offered one professional assignment so far. I haven’t even done it yet. What if it’s a disaster?”

“It will be fantastic. Is this the one for San Francisco Magazine?”

“Yes. It’s next week. Robert Pattinson, for crying out loud! I’m paralyzed with nerves.”

“You move very well for someone with paralysis.” He offered her a dish of stuffed olives, and she smiled and took one. “Do you have to fly to New York for the shoot?”

“No, he’s coming here for a movie premiere. At least if everything goes as planned. Maybe he’ll cancel at the last minute.” She tucked a curl nervously behind her ear and bit her lip.

“He won’t cancel. He’s a professional. And you’ll do an amazing job. Just think, soon your picture will be pirated all over the internet.”

“Oh, stop! I just hope I don’t annoy him, or drop my camera or something. It’s got to be film, not digital. I think that’s one of the reasons they asked me.”

“They asked you because you’re amazingly talented and they know everyone will be talking about the pictures. Just relax and try to enjoy it.” He stroked her arm. Her dress was silky soft jersey material that draped lusciously over her curves. Heat flared in his groin and he had to resist the urge to let his hand trail over more of her delicious body.

All in good time, he promised himself. He needed at least a few dates with her under his belt before he made any kind of … move. Though the temptation to make one right now was killing him.

Especially when she shifted, and the fabric of her dress pulled tight for a moment over her tantalizing breasts.

Ouch. His pants suddenly felt tight.

Her eyes sparkled as she sipped her champagne. “I’m excited about the concert. I’ve been going to jazz concerts regularly over the past year. I’m really starting to get the music.”

He smiled. “Then you can teach me. All I do is enjoy it.”

“That works, too. It’s so nice to meet someone who likes doing so many of the things I enjoy.”

“I love walking around with you. You know so much of the city.”

Her eyes brightened. “I’d be happy to roam around more of it with you.”

He offered her some marinated chicken in a pita and she put it on her plate. “Where do you recommend?”

“How about the Marina? Or the Painted Ladies—the Victorian houses, of course, not the hookers—near the park? Alcatraz is pretty wild. Have you ever been there?”

“No, and now I can’t wait to go to each and every one of them.”

Why hadn’t he kissed her yet? Bree examined her carefully made up face in the mirror. Gavin was due any minute—again. They’d seen each other every other day for the past two weeks, walked nearly a hundred miles around the city, eaten countless meals and even—gasp!—held hands.

But not a single kiss on the lips. He brushed her cheek lightly with his lips when they said goodbye, but that was it.

Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her, after all?

She should be exhilarated after her shoot. Despite a late start, everything had gone smoothly and the proofs were to die for. The star was every bit as charming and polite as she’d imagined, and she’d managed not to blush and stammer like a teenager in his presence. She even showed him her portfolio so he’d have some idea of who the heck was taking his picture, and he’d asked all kinds of questions and seemed genuinely enthusiastic about her work.

She should be over the moon. Her first professional assignment was safely under her belt and she had another date with the most gorgeous man in San Francisco.

So why did she feel so … uneasy?

Gavin seemed to be interested. Something twinkled in his eyes when he looked at her, and she’d caught him sneaking glances at her cleavage, which had been on display more over the last couple of weeks than ever in her life.

He laughed at her jokes and appeared intrigued by all the odd anecdotes she’d picked up over the years. At one point, in the quiet gloom of an abandoned Alcatraz cell, she could almost swear he was going to step forward and kiss her. Tension hummed in the air like whispered voices of the people who’d been captive there. Her skin tingled at his nearness and she hoped with bated breath that he’d reach out to her.

But he didn’t. And once again, after the ferry ride back, he said goodbye by pressing his lips gently to her cheek.

Good old Bree. Not really the kissable type. Perhaps he saw her more as a friend. Or a sister, even, as that catty woman at his office party had suggested.

A sharp knock on the door tugged her back to the present. Her heart pounded under her latest clothing purchase, a stylish blouse with fine green and gray stripes. She added an extra hint of gloss to her lips for luck. Maybe he’d notice them and want to put his own lips on them tonight. If not, she might have to take matters into her own hands.

As if she had the nerve for that.

She pulled open the door and, as usual, her lungs squeezed with excitement and a big goofy grin pulled at her lips. “Hi, Gavin.”

“Hi, Bree.” The chaste cheek kiss he gave her still made her knees weak. How could a man smell so good after a long day at the office? Like wind and sea air and adventure. He’d changed into a pale blue shirt and faded jeans that hugged his thighs like a lover. “How do you feel about a walk to the Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill?”

“Great.” Yeah, just great. The most popular proposal spot in the city and she was going to go there and maybe hold hands if she got lucky.

Unless …

She swallowed hard. No. Gavin Spencer was not going to propose to her tonight. This was the twenty-first century, not the eighteenth. A man did not ask a woman to marry him after accompanying her on a few bracing walks.

“There’s a neat little Italian restaurant nearby, too, so we could grab some dinner.”

“Sounds lovely.” Her reply came out sounding a bit forced.

Gavin cocked his head. “Are you sure? Because we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No, really, I’d love to.” She reached down to grab her bag.

“And I was thinking that afterward, if you’d like, you could come back to my place for a nightcap.”

“Oh. Sure, that would be great.” Suddenly she was all breathless excitement. Her cheeks heated. He surely wouldn’t ask her back to his place unless he intended to …

Butterflies unfurled in her stomach. What exactly did he have in mind? Possibly quite a bit more than a kiss.

“Let’s go.” He held out his hand and she took it. The door slammed behind her with a resounding thud.

They walked briskly through the streets to Telegraph Hill, where the pale spire of the tower rose above the surrounding houses. The climb up the hill toward the tower left Bree panting. “I can’t believe you haven’t even broken a sweat.”

“I work out regularly.” Gavin squeezed her hand. “I enjoy a good climb. Want me to carry you?” He raised a dark brow.

“The situation isn’t that desperate yet. But there are steps inside the tower, too. I may take you up on it then.” At the top of the hill, they admired the view of the Bay Bridge and Gavin suggested that maybe they’d climbed far enough.

“No way. You think I can’t hack it, don’t you?” She flexed her muscles under her new striped shirt. “I’d be a lousy date if we didn’t even make it in to see all the murals. Did you hear the rumor that the tower was designed to look like a giant fire hose nozzle? Supposedly the lady who donated the land and the money to build the tower was a big fan of the local firehouse.”

Gavin chuckled. “I can see a resemblance. I’m sure Sigmund Freud would have some other suggestions for things it looks like.”