Leigh Michaels – The Billionaire Date (страница 7)

Kit told herself not to take the comment literally, but she couldn’t help it. Would next month’s Lingerie Lady be pictured in black leather, standing over a bound and handcuffed Jarrett Webster? The idea had its attractions. “Of course your plans are more important than mine,” she murmured. “All right, I suppose I could spare a few minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee? There’s a little restaurant around the corner.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re suddenly very eager to chat.” But he dropped into step beside her without arguing.

They had to pass Flanagan’s, where the scent of bratwurst was wafting through the propped-open front door and out to the street. A textbook example of good public relations, Alison always called it—the subtlest form of advertising.

Kit thought Jarrett sniffed appreciatively, and she held her breath till they were well past, half-expecting that he’d suggest they stop for bratwurst and beer instead.

Inside the coffee shop, Kit led the way to a booth at the back and took the seat facing the door. “Two coffees,” she told the waitress. “Unless you’d like something else?”

“It’s your party,” he said.

The coffee arrived and Kit stirred cream into her cup. “I’m puzzled,” she said finally. “Why are you doing this? I can’t imagine why you have such a hate for Tryad—”

“I don’t, particularly. But fair’s fair.”

“Exactly. That’s why I didn’t charge the fashion show people a fee, just expenses.”

He shrugged. “I can’t see that it matters much. The result was the same, whatever you called it.”

So much for the attempt to reason with him, Kit thought.

“So tell me what you’re going to do,” he suggested.

“I won’t hold you to the details just yet, but I need to know when this affair is coming off so I can fit it into my calendar.”

“I’d hate to put you to the trouble. Besides, who says I need a special date? Perhaps I’ll just send out a chain letter.” Where the notion had come from, Kit didn’t know, but almost instantly she warmed to the idea. “You know the kind—‘Send a hundred dollars to the name at the top of the list, and within seven days make six copies of this letter and send them out to your friends. Before the month is out, you’ll receive—’”

His voice was dry. “Oh, that sounds as if it has real potential.”

Kit pretended to take him seriously. “Doesn’t it, though? I wonder how long it would take. If I make all the names on the original list dummies, so the money from the first few levels comes back to me...”

“Why would people send money for a scam like that?”

“Have you no imagination?” Kit smiled warmly at him. “I’ll threaten to send someone from the domestic abuse foundation to beat them up if they don’t. Let’s see, if the first twelve all send out letters...” She reached for a paper napkin from the holder on the table and started to scribble. Two calculations later she was hopelessly lost.

“They won’t. Even with threats you’d be lucky to get half.”

“Really?” Kit looked at the muddle of figures on the napkin and pushed it aside. “I’ll still bet in a month I’d have ten thousand dollars.”

He looked thoughtful. “Assuming a fifty percent response, in three generations—which is all you’d have time for—you’d take in just short of eight thousand.”

“You did that all in your head, didn’t you?” Kit said admiringly. “Well, I’ll take your word for it. Eight thousand dollars—and at the cost of only a dozen stamps. Not a bad return on an investment. If we let it go one more round—”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in the postal service, of course—assuming that all that mail gets delivered.”

“There is that difficulty.”

“And, of course, there’s the minor problem that it’s illegal to send chain letters through the mail.”

“I was afraid you’d remember that,” Kit admitted. “It was still a good idea, though.” She crumpled the napkin.

“So, since the chain letter was obviously a sham, what are you really going to do?”

“Are you this big a spoilsport with your ad agency? I must say I have trouble picturing you meekly doing everything they suggest for those ads of yours. The one where you were pretending to be on safari, for instance—”

“That was a real tiger, even if the only shooting was done with cameras. A fan of my ads, are you?”

Oops. Kit told herself. That was a slip. “Not at all. It’s just that they’re a bit difficult to avoid. One would have to quit reading altogether to escape them, and even then there are the billboards.”

He drained his cup and set it on the table with a firm click. “Let’s get down to it, Ms. Deevers. Obviously you don’t have an idea in your head about this fund-raiser. So why don’t you just admit it?”

“Why should I?” she asked cautiously.

“Because we may as well call the whole thing off now, before you make a fool of yourself.”

Kit felt a slow burn start in her toes and work up. “You sound awfully sure I’m the one who’ll look foolish.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No—now that I think about it, you didn’t. I wonder if that means you’re afraid I’ll succeed and you’ll have to eat crow.”

“That possibility doesn’t seem likely.”

“I’ll call it off if you’ll promise to keep your mouth shut about Tryad.”

“You’re not dictating the terms here, Ms. Deevers.”

“Really? Well, no dice.” She eased out of the booth. “I won’t give you the satisfaction of telling people I backed out, and you’re not going to slander my company, either. I’m going to pull this off, Mr. Damn-Your-Arrogance Webster—and you’re going to be so impressed by the time it’s over that you not only won’t run down Tryad, you’ll give us referrals.”

He didn’t move. “Pull it off and you have my promise—all the referrals I can manage. Of course, in the meantime, I can’t wait to hear all about how you’re going to do it.”

Neither can I, Kit thought. So now, all I have to do is figure it out.

CHAPTER THREE

ALISON was already in Flanagan’s when Kit arrived. She was sitting at a table toward the back of the dim little pub, taking advantage of the light from a neon beer sign above her head to read the latest issue of a public relations journal.

The glass of diet cola in Alison’s hand was half empty, Kit saw. That meant she’d been there for a while, and since she wasn’t in a position to look out the front window there was no chance she’d seen Kit walking by with Jarrett.

One down, Kit thought.

Kit pulled out a chair across from her partner and waved at the waitress. “Where’s Susannah?”

“Don’t know.” Alison slid a bar napkin into the magazine to mark her page and set it aside. “She had a meeting with a client this afternoon, and she wasn’t back yet when I left.”

“If it was Pierce at the museum, she might not be back at all.” The waitress brought Kit a glass of Chardonnay, and she sipped it gratefully.

Alison looked puzzled. “You don’t think she’s serious about him, do you?”

“Why shouldn’t she be? I’ve only met him a couple of times, but he seems nice enough, and he’s certainly attractive.”

“He’s not her type. Look at me in disbelief if you want, Kit, but underneath all that froth, our Susannah’s a very steady sort. And somehow, I suspect, Pierce isn’t. She’s no more serious about him than...than you are about Jarrett Webster.”

Kit almost choked. “Oh, well, when you put it that way...” She drew a set of imaginary parallel lines on the tabletop with the base of her wineglass. “Ali, if you had to raise a lot of money for a good cause in a very little time, what would you do?”

“Is this a trick question, or wasn’t I listening at our staff meeting Monday?”

“It came up since then. It’s sort of a competition.” At least that much was the truth, Kit thought.

Alison looked thoughtful, but before she could comment Susannah came in with a swirl of her jersey skirt and sank into the chair across from Kit. “Guess what I just saw, parked straight in front of the brownstone. The most gorgeous black Porsche with Teddy on the license plates. Putting two and two together—”

“And coming up with seven, no doubt,” Alison said. “I thought incredible math was Kit’s specialty.”

“Maybe the car belongs to a bear collector,” Kit said.

Susannah leaned forward. “Then what was Jarrett Webster doing walking down the street toward it?”

“Taking a healthy stroll?” Kit mused. “Or slumming, perhaps?”

“You really don’t know?” Susannah sounded doubtful. “I thought perhaps he was looking for you, but Rita said he hadn’t come into the office.”

“See, Kit? I told you Susannah wasn’t serious about Pierce. In fact, it’s beginning to sound as if she’s got Jarrett Webster on the brain, instead.”

Susannah rolled her eyes. “Ali, you know very well I wouldn’t poach on Kit’s territory.”

“You’re welcome to him,” Kit offered.

“You two and your men,” Alison grumbled.