Across the piano, a round, middle-aged woman frowned at him, an expression made all the more dramatic because it looked as if she’d used a black marker to drawn on her eyebrows. He met her gaze hard, silently warning her to mind her own business. She shifted h
er attention to the bald man, who was now captivated by Emma’s cleavage.
Nathan sucked in a breath and counted to eight before he mastered the impulse to bare his teeth at the guy like some overzealous guard dog. Instead, he focused on the familiar music, relaxed into the romantic lyrics that had caused generations of women to swoon, and contemplated the knockout he must marry if he hoped to do business with her father.
Nathan and her brother, Cody, best friends since college, had often talked about business opportunities that sparked their interest, but they hadn’t discovered any worth pursuing until recently. When he and Cody had first discussed the idea of a joint venture between Montgomery Oil and Case Consolidated Holdings, Nathan hadn’t anticipated marriage to Emma as part of the negotiations, but he couldn’t say he was completely surprised that Silas had made it a key factor in the deal. The project would be a long-term undertaking, requiring huge amounts of capital from both companies. Cementing the connection between Case Consolidated Holdings and Montgomery Oil through marriage ensured that both sides were totally committed to the venture.
Emma would know that. And use it to her advantage. He should be flattered that she wanted him so much that she’d cooked up the scheme and persuaded her father to go along with it. And why wouldn’t Silas agree? Once Emma was married, she became someone else’s responsibility.
“You have an amazing voice,” the blonde to his left told him. She smoothed her left hand across the piano’s glossy surface, showing off the huge diamond adorning her middle finger. The bare ring finger proclaimed her availability. “And you know all the words.”
Across the narrow space separating their bodies, Emma’s spine stiffened at the blonde’s blatant flirting.
“My mother loved Sinatra and played his music all the time while I was growing up. She used to call me her very own Rat Pack member. Although, I think her meaning had less to do with my singing and more to do with my knack for troublemaking.”
The blonde gave a throaty laugh.
“You’re trouble all right,” Emma muttered.
Nathan grinned. He liked her humor. She was a terrific package: sexy and funny.
Thinking he had smiled at her, the blonde rotated her upper body toward him. Her low neckline gaped farther as she extended her right hand. One shapely leg slipped between the long slit in her skirt and grazed his thigh. “My name is Bridget.”
“Nathan.” He clasped her hand while annoyance radiated from Emma like fallout from a nuclear disaster. “How do you know Silas?”
He didn’t catch Bridget’s answer because his arm no longer blocked Emma’s exit, and she’d seized the opportunity to run. As she turned to go, her chest brushed against the bald man’s shoulder and his eyes almost popped out of his head. Oblivious to the commotion she’d caused, Emma offered him a brief apology as she slipped past.
Nathan gave the blonde a what-can-you-do shrug. Her smile became a pout as he turned to follow Emma.
She didn’t get more than three steps beyond the library before he caught her. Nathan slid his hand around her waist and altered her direction, guiding her to the one place on the first floor where they wouldn’t be disturbed by party guests.
“The last time we met I got the feeling you were looking for a little trouble,” he murmured near her ear as he herded her down the hallway to her father’s study.
She eyed him as warily as a colt sensing the approach of a mountain lion. Perhaps she’d guessed what was on his mind. No man pursued a woman the way he had without wanting her naked and horizontal.
“Maybe I was,” she said. “But that was then.”
“And this is now.”
At the end of a long corridor, Nathan opened a door, and ushered Emma inside. Dark paneled walls absorbed the single light source: a lamp perched on one corner of a massive antique mahogany desk. In a home office of normal size, a piece of furniture like this might have overwhelmed the room, but this house had been built to impress. A leather couch, with flanking chairs, sat before the carved marble fireplace. Texas landscapes adorned the walls, painted by one of Nathan’s favorite artists of the early twentieth century. Unlike the delicate French antiques decorating the rest of the mansion, this room’s rugged lines and leather furnishings suited the Texas oil magnate who lived here.
Nathan shut the door, caught Emma’s arm and spun her around. Before she offered a protest, he backed her against the door. On the other side of the panel, voices and music blended into hazy, indistinct murmurs. Alone at last.
He leaned his forearm above her shoulder, letting his intent settle over her like a silk sheet. “Aren’t you curious why your name came up?” he questioned, returning to their earlier topic.
“Not in the least.”
“It seems that your father is shopping around for a husband for you.”
“Damn.” Her head fell back against the door, and the fight whooshed out of her. “He’s been trying to marry me off since college.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a handful of trouble he wants to dump into someone else’s lap.” Bruises developed in her eyes, put there by her father’s harsh opinion. “He’s got this idea stuck in his head that I need someone to take care of me.”
Being the pampered daughter of a billionaire was part of her charm. Nathan was looking forward to spoiling her rotten.
“What’s wrong with letting someone take care of you?” he asked.