Emilie Rose – Pregnant on the Upper East Side? / The Billionaire in Penthouse B: Pregnant on the Upper East Side? (страница 2)

“Other people pay me for my services.”

“That’s what it takes? I have to hire you?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.”

Trying to ignore him, she flipped through her mail and grimaced. Bills, bills and more bills. No surprise there. Her business, Affairs by Amanda, continued to grow, but unfortunately not fast enough to cover the balloon payment coming due on her bank loan.

If she didn’t land a lucrative and highly visible event contract soon she’d have to consider closing her doors or—a fate worse than death—beg her parents for a loan to tide her over. Either way, her father would need a larynx transplant because he’d wear out his voice box lecturing her about disgracing the venerable Crawford name. Not that she hadn’t heard that speech a thousand times already.

The elevator opened. She exited with Alex’s shoulder bumping hers. The contact acted like a blaring alarm clock on every cell of her being. She absolutely detested his ability to affect her this way.

Honestly, the man had nothing going for him…aside from being rich, smart and gorgeous. It had even been rumored he had a sense of humor. But she could and would continue to resist his advances.

She dug her keys out of her Carlos Falchi python tote bag and shoved them into 9B’s lock. It turned smoothly. The building might be prewar, but the security was modern era. If not for her friend Julia’s connections, Amanda could never have found herself at such a prestigious uptown address. The real question was how long could she afford to stay without a significant boost in income.

“Wait h—”

“I’d love to come in. Thanks.” Alex’s chest bumped her shoulder when he reached past her to push open the door. The usual unwanted frisson of awareness hit her.

Why him? Why did Alex Harper have to be the one to ring her chimes?

She stared at him for five seconds, debated the wisdom of letting him in and then decided it wasn’t worth arguing. He’d be gone in minutes. She left him behind and crossed the living room to the brushed stainless basket where she’d piled Julia’s magazines and mail. When she turned with the bundle in hand, Alex was right on her heels. Her breath caught at his nearness. She shoved the mail forward, jabbing him in his flat belly, in an attempt to make him back off.

“Here you go. Thanks for picking it up. I’ll show you out.”

He stayed planted, his big body blocking her path to the door. His gaze held hers as he accepted the stack of letters and magazines. His fingers grazed hers. That fleeting contact hit her like a speeding subway train, quickening her pulse, shortening her breath and knocking her silly with lust.

And then he blinked his ridiculously thick lashes, releasing her from his spell. He scanned the pale pink and white high-tech decor of her living room. She could swear he zeroed in on each new addition. The votives, the trio of bubble-glass vases she’d picked up at an estate sale for next to nothing, the lime-green-beaded sari she’d draped over the back of the white sofa and the new raspberry tasseled lampshade.

“You’ve made some changes since Julia moved out.”

“A few.” He’d been in the apartment dozens of times, but not recently and never without Max or Julia as a buffer. Funny how he seemed to take up more space and air when it was just the two of them. “You don’t want to be late for dinner.”

“I have time.”

She gritted her teeth in frustration.

“I want more than Julia’s mail from you, Amanda.”

As if she didn’t know that already. Nevertheless the words sent a quick thrill through her. She’d considered more with Alex a time or two during her weaker moments. More would probably be pretty darn good with him considering all the practice he’d allegedly had. But the man and the timing were all wrong. She had to work on organizing her life before she could allow someone else into it.

She folded her arms and rocked back on her heels. “Really? Now there’s a surprise. But there’s this little word. No. N. O. I’m sure you’re familiar with it since I’ve shared it with you so often.”

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he fought a smile. She would bet a month’s rent—which she didn’t have to spare—he enjoyed their little verbal duels. Why else would he provoke her every time they met?

“You’ll change your mind when you hear my proposition.”

A proposition. Again, no surprise. Nonetheless, her mouth dried because she really was going to have to say no. Again. And each time it was a little harder to squeeze out that single syllable. “I doubt it.”

He took off his coat and draped it over his forearm, revealing a charcoal Brooks Brothers suit, blinding white silk shirt and ruby power tie. “I need Affairs by Amanda.”

He’d employed the one line that guaranteed she’d hear him out rather than kick him out. “For what?”

“Harper & Associates just landed a substantial public settlement. I’d like to reward the staff for their hard work.”

He definitely knew how to tickle a girl’s interest. A party for his firm could be good for business. His and hers. “What kind of event?”

“A couple hundred guests including friends, clients and a few celebrities to make it interesting. Choice of venue is yours, but I’d prefer something upscale like the Metropolitan Club.”

Size and visibility. Class and clout. A-list guests who might be persuaded to use her services for their future affairs. Not exactly money in the bank, which she desperately needed, but the exposure could be just the boost her business required.

As a millionaire finance attorney, Alex had the kind of connections she could use. Not that she didn’t have her own connections. But his were better.

She knew there would be strings. A wheeler-dealer like Alex would always have strings. She curved her fingers in a “give me more” gesture. “Details.”

He named a budget that made her salivate. “The catch is I’d like to do this within the month. The sooner, the better.”

“That could be problematic.” But a boon for her finances.

“If you’re not up to it I can go elsewhere.”

A power play. And he knew exactly what he was doing. She didn’t miss the challenge in his eyes or in the angle of his chin. “What makes you think I’m available on such short notice?”

“Julia mentioned you’d had an unexpected cancellation.”

A huge engagement party had gone kaput. The bride-to-be had run off with the groom’s youngest brother. Not pretty. And while Amanda would get to keep the deposit to cover most of her losses, there would be little left after she paid the vendors and her employees.

She ought to turn Alex down. He was demanding and impatient and a workaholic like her father. He’d be hell to work with unless he stayed out of her way. And she doubted he would.

But she couldn’t afford to say no.

“If I do this, your party is all I’m doing. Is that clear?”

One dark eyebrow hiked and his delectable mouth tilted mischievously. “Amanda—”

“Don’t ‘Amanda’ me. I have no intention of being your latest accessory.”

His slow, confident smile hit her below the three-inchwide patent leather belt she’d cinched over her lavender cashmere tunic sweater. “But we’d be so good together.”

That’s what she was afraid of. He’d be amazing. Right up until the moment he dumped her. And she’d be left with yet another failed relationship. Wouldn’t her parents love to rub that in her face?

“But as you pointed out, I’m an attorney. I know better than to force my attentions when they’re not welcome. Meet me tomorrow to discuss the party details. Park Café. Four o’clock.”

She sputtered at his pushiness. “That’s less than twenty-four hours.”

“Long enough for you to know if you can pull this off.” He turned on his heel. His long strides carried him out of the apartment. The door shut quietly behind him.

She had her work cut out for her, but she’d be darned if she’d back down from the challenge he’d issued.

She couldn’t afford to.

Amanda shifted her laptop case to her left hand, braced herself for another onslaught of Alex’s charisma and pushed open the door of Park Café.

The upscale coffee shop was her favorite, and not just because of its close proximity to the building where she lived. If she ever had to have a last supper, she wanted it to be one of the café’s double chocolate chip walnut muffins—preferably fresh from the oven while the chocolate chips were still gooey.

She waved to Trish, the barista. The warmth enfolding Amanda had everything to do with leaving the blustery outside behind and nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with spotting Alex unfolding his tall frame from a chair at a corner table.

He’d dressed casually for a Sunday afternoon in charcoal wool trousers and a dove-gray cable V-neck sweater that made his shoulders look a mile wide. She caught a glimpse of the black T-shirt he wore between the cashmere and his skin.

Don’t think about what’s next to his skin.

Keep the meeting on a business footing.

And if he flirts, ignore him.

Easier said than done when even his smile invited her to break rules and promised she’d love doing it. Why did the man tempt her to throw caution and common sense out the window?

He pulled out a chair for her and nodded toward her briefcase. “You came prepared.”