The CEO's Accidental Bride

“Are you taking anyone?” she asked, gaze darting back to the action on the field.

“You mean a date?”

She nodded. “It’s a dinner. I assume it would be partly social. It seems to me it would be acceptable to bring a date.”

“Yes, it’s acceptable. And no, I don’t have one.”

Another batter cracked a high fly ball. They watched the trajectory until it was caught out in center field.

“Will you take me?”

Zach rocked back and turned. A reflexive rush of excitement hit his body as he studied her profile. “You’re asking me for a date?”

But she rolled her eyes and adjusted her cap. “I’m asking you to get me in the door, Zach, not dance with me. You said you wanted to help. And there will be people there who are good for my career.”

“Right.” He shifted in his seat, assuring himself he wasn’t disappointed. It was a lie, of course. But he definitely wasn’t stupid.

Dating Kaitlin would be a huge mistake. Dancing with her was out of the question. What if it was as great as he’d remembered? What then?

She drew a satisfied sigh, her shoulders relaxing. “And, before Friday, if you wouldn’t mind telling at least five people that you’ve hired me back. Influential people. It would be great for me if word got around.”

He had no right to be disappointed. This was business for her. It was business for him, too. Introducing her around at the chamber dinner played right into Plan C. She was right. There would be influential people there, a myriad of corporate executives, many of whom would have contacts in the architectural world. If he was lucky, really lucky, she’d find a job right there at the dinner.

Still, he struggled to keep his voice neutral as he told her, “Sure. No problem.”

“You did offer to help,” she pointed out.

“I said sure.”

“Are you annoyed?” she asked.

“I’m being blackmailed,” he reminded her. Was he supposed to be thrilled about it?

“Every marriage has its complications,” she returned on an irreverent grin.

Just then, the Mets pitcher struck out the third batter with the bases loaded, and Kaitlin jumped from her seat to cheer.

Zach watched her in the sunlight and struggled very hard to feel annoyed. But then she punched a fist in the air, and her T-shirt rode up, revealing a strip of smooth skin above her waistband. And annoyance was the last thing he was feeling toward his accidental wife.

The chamber dinner was a dream come true for Kaitlin. The people she met were friendly and professional, and she came away feeling as if she’d met the who’s who of the Manhattan business world. Zach had certainly stuck to his pledge of helping her. He’d introduced her to dozens of potential contacts, left her in interesting conversations, but seemed to magically appear whenever she felt alone or out of place.

It was nearly midnight when they finally climbed aboard his thirty-foot yacht for the return trip to Manhattan. Like the suite at the baseball game, the yacht clearly showed Zach had the means and the desire to enjoy the finer things in life. Lindsay was right, Kaitlin could spend as much as she needed on the renovations, and he’d barely notice.

The chamber dinner had been held at an island marina just off the coast of southern Manhattan. Most people had traveled by water taxi but a few, like Zach, had brought their own transportation.

“This is a nice ride,” she acknowledged one more time, as they settled into a grouping of comfortable, white, cushioned furniture. The sitting area, on a teak wood deck, was positioned next to a covered hot tub near the stern of the boat, protected from the wind by a glass wall at midship, but providing an incredible view over the aft rail.

Kaitlin chose a soft armchair, while Zach took a love seat at a right angle to her, facing the stern. The pilot powered up the engine, and they glided smoothly out into the bay.

“It’s slower than a helicopter,” said Zach. “But I like it out here at night.”

Kaitlin tipped her head and gazed at the twinkling skyline. A three-quarter moon was rising, and a few stars were visible beyond the city’s glow. “You have a helicopter?”

“Dylan has the helicopters. My company owns ships.”

Kaitlin had liked Dylan, even if Lindsay hadn’t seemed to warm up to him. Then again, there were few things Lindsay enjoyed more than a rollicking debate, and Dylan had played right into her hand. Kaitlin was convinced Lindsay missed being in a courtroom. Lindsay had worked for a year as a litigator, and Kaitlin had always wondered about her choice to take the teaching position.

“Tell me more about the pirates,” she said to Zach. She’d never met anyone with such a colorful family history.

“You want a drink or anything?” he asked.

She shook her head, slipping off her shoes and bending her knees to tuck her feet beneath her in the shimmering black cocktail dress. “One more glass of champagne, and I’ll start singing karaoke.”

“Champagne it is.” He started to rise, his devilish smile showing straight white teeth in the muted deck light.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, with a waggle of her finger. “Trust me. You do not want me to sing.”

He rocked back into his seat and loosened his tie. He ran a hand, spread-fingered, through his thick hair and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. In the buffeting breeze, with the faint traces of fatigue around his dark eyes, he looked disheveled and compellingly sexy.

“Back to the pirates,” she prompted in an effort to distract herself from her burgeoning desire. “Is it all true?”

He shrugged easily. “Depends on what you’ve heard.”

“I heard that your ancestor was a pirate, arch enemy of Dylan’s ancestor, and the two of them formed a truce nearly three hundred years ago on what is now Serenity Island. I heard the nexus of your fortune is stolen treasure.”

Criminal or not, she still found herself envious of his detailed family history. Zach would know details of his parents, his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, and every ancestor back three hundred years. Kaitlin would give anything to be able to go back even one generation.

“Well, it’s all true,” said Zach. “At least as far as we can tell. Dylan’s in denial.”

Kaitlin laughed lightly, remembering the argument at the baseball game. “It sure sounded like it.”

Zach removed his tie and tossed it on the love-seat cushion beside him. “Dylan wants to pretend his family was pure of heart. I think he must have more scruples than me.”

“You’re unscrupulous?” she couldn’t resist asking.

“Some would say.”

“Would they be right?”

He looked her square in the eyes. “Like I’m going to answer that.”

She couldn’t tell if he was still teasing. And maybe that was deliberate. “Are you trying to keep me off balance?” she asked, watching his expression closely.

“You’re not exactly on my side.”

“I thought we’d formed a truce.” She certainly felt as if they’d formed a truce tonight.

“I’m appeasing you,” he told her. His tone and dark eyes were soft, but the words revealed his continued caution.

“And I’m trying to build you a masterpiece,” she responded tartly.

He sighed, and seemed to relax ever so slightly. “You’re trying to build yourself a masterpiece.”

She had to concede that one. Her primary motivation in this was her own reputation. Of course, it was all his fault she was forced into this position.

“You make a fair point,” she admitted.

“So, who’s unscrupulous now?”

“I’m not unscrupulous. Just practical.” She had no one in this world to depend on but herself.

Orphans learned that fact very quickly in life. If she didn’t have a career, if she couldn’t provide for herself, nobody would do it for her. Since she was old enough to understand, she’d feared poverty and loneliness.

She was sure the view was quite different from where Zach was sitting on millions of dollars worth of New York real estate. He had a successful company, money to burn and a lineage that went back to the dawn of statehood.

“So, what have you decided?” he asked.

“About what?” Was there anything left outstanding on their deal? She thought they were both quite clear at this point.

“My building. You’ve been working at it for a couple of weeks now. Tell me what you have in mind.”

Kaitlin instantly saw through his ploy. No wonder he’d behaved so well this evening. He’d been lulling her into a false send of security.

She came to her feet, keeping a close eye on him, backing toward the rail. The teak deck was cool and smooth beneath her bare feet. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not opening myself up for a fight over the details.”

He rose with her. “You’ll need my input at some point. It might as well be—”

“Uh-uh.” The breeze brushed the filmy, scalloped-hem dress against her legs and whipped the strands of hair that had worked their way loose from her updo. “No input. My project.”

He widened his stance. “I’ll have to approve the final designs.”

The waves rolled higher, and she braced herself against the rail. “What part of carte blanche didn’t you understand?”