The Billionaire Date Page 7

  “Well, it’s typical bachelor behavior, don’t you think? Not wanting to commit themselves to too much, particularly with women they don’t know. I expect he thinks if he doesn’t like the winner he can just prose on about Monet and Gauguin for a while, and she’ll cut the whole thing short.”

  Kit sighed. “Thanks, Sue. It all helps. I’ve got one yes and three probables from my list, and two absolute noes.”

  “Who? I’ll work on them, if it might do any good.”

  Kit tossed the list across the desk. “What I really need, though, is something dramatic, and a list of names isn’t it. Neither is the sort of ordinary dinner-and-show sort of event most of these guys are willing to offer.”

  Susannah nodded. “Bachelors.”

  “Now if I could get someone to offer a Caribbean cruise, or a weekend in Las Vegas... I’d even jump at an event that wasn’t exactly a date. Do we know any chefs who might offer to go to the winning lady’s home and cook an intimate dinner for her and the man in her life?”

  “Well, the fry cook at the restaurant around the corner might be able to handle breakfast in bed, but off the top of my head I can’t think of anyone else.”

  Kit sighed.

  Alison tapped on the open door and came in. “I suppose you’ve both spent the day searching out bachelors? I can’t wait to see the bill you’ll have run up by the end of this gig.”

  Kit decided she might as well bite the bullet. “There won’t be one.”

  Alison’s eyebrows climbed. “We’re doing this for free?”

  “I’ll do as much as I can on my own time, and I’ll make up the rest, Ali—”

  Susannah slid off the desk and paced to the window. “There’s a camera out there,” she said suddenly. “On the sidewalk. And the man behind it is looking at our building.”

  Kit groaned.

  Susannah waved at the cameraman. “Just think of the publicity we’re getting, Ali.”

  “Thanks. I already have.” Alison studied Kit for a long moment and said gruffly, “Just don’t run yourself into the ground while you’re trying to do it all, okay?”

  Kit wanted to cry. Alison could be as blunt as a broken pencil, but she was also the warmest and most caring of women.

  I couldn’t ask for better partners, she thought. She pulled her list of eligible men across the desk and picked up the telephone once more.

  Her threat to put Jarrett to work on the phones—the inspired strategy Kit had expected would make him run for the bushes and stay there—bought her just over twenty-four hours of peace. But at least, she thought philosophically when Rita told her who was on the telephone, he hadn’t shown up in person.

  “This is Kit,” she said, nestling the phone under her chin.

  She’d forgotten, in the few days since he’d called her from his car, how warmly intimate, how powerful his voice could be when there was no other impression of him to distract her attention. The deep tones resonated, almost tickling her ear.

  “I’ve been racking my brain over this Dream Date thing,” he said. “And I wonder if you have any suggestions.”

  Kit almost dropped the phone. “Do you honestly expect me to fall for that line? I find it hard to believe that the king of lingerie, the creator of monthly fantasies, can’t come up with a plan to entertain one woman for a single evening.”

  “You committed me for a weekend.”

  “So I did. Thanks for reminding me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t have any ideas,” he began.

  “I didn’t think that was the problem.”

  “But everything I consider seems so tame. And I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

  “Me included, I presume?” Kit asked sweetly.

  His voice dropped another few tones. “Can you possibly doubt the place you hold in my thoughts?”

  Kit had to smile at that. He probably meant he cursed her every time the auction crossed his mind. “If you really want my input—”

  “Of course I do.”

  “The first thing I’d suggest is that you stop thinking weekend and start thinking week—or even longer.”

  “Which will raise the price,” Jarrett said. “That’s brilliant, Kitten.”

  Kit had to grit her teeth to keep from snapping at him. If she reacted to the nickname, he’d probably never call her anything else. “Let’s see. You’ve got that enormous sailboat—how about taking your dream date for a long trip to a deserted tropical island?”

  He sounded a little doubtful. “How long a trip are we talking about? And do you think the bidders would really be interested in that sort of offer?”

  “I imagine so. I know I’d like it immensely.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course,” she said demurely. “If I could afford it, I’d buy that package in a minute.”

  His voice warmed till Kit could almost feel equatorial sunshine spilling over her. “Standing on the deck of a boat with only the ocean for company... Fish, sun, waves, wind and...”

  Kit moved in for the kill. “It’s my idea of heaven on earth.”

  “Not bad, at that. Any particular island you’d like to see?”

  “And what makes you think I was planning to go with you? It would be worth my money just to stand in the marina and wave goodbye. Some of those tropical islands are so far from civilization you couldn’t even send me a telegram.”

  His laugh was a deep vibrato, which seemed to wrap her in merriment.

  “Much less call on your cell phone to annoy me,” Kit went on. “Now is there a point to this conversation, or can I go back to work?”

  “Actually, yes, there is. I was talking to a few of my friends at the racquetball club this morning.”

  “And you recruited some volunteers?”

  “Oh, no. Did you want me to do that, too, on top of entreating the grocers for donations? And what are you going to be doing in the meantime, if I’m lining up all the food and prizes?”

  He sounded quite solicitous, Kit thought. “Never mind,” she muttered.

  “But I noticed an interesting phenomenon, and I thought you should know about it. The whole of Chicago seems to think the entire Dream Dates Auction is a publicity ploy.”

  “Can’t think where they’d have got that idea,” Kit said dryly.

  “It’s more than that, though. Every reporter I’ve run into—and even the guys at the racquetball ctub—seems to be expecting to start seeing us together.”

  “How charming of them.” She was hardly listening.

  “So shall we have dinner tonight? Or take in a basketball game?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Well, I suppose if you want to lose...”

  Kit’s jaw dropped. “What? Where’d you get that idea?”

  “Because you’re giving up a perfect opportunity for publicity. I’m just trying to help, Kit. If you don’t want me...”

  I don’t, she wanted to say.

  But there was no denying he was right. She ought to have seen for herself the potential for creating interest in the community by being seen in public with her star attraction, being available for comment and questions, taking every opportunity to drop bits of information to the media.

  “All right,” she said. “Make it the basketball game.”

  “I’ll pick you up at the office at seven.” He gave a sigh Kit thought was worthy of a lovelorn suitor. “I just hope we’ll both be able to concentrate in the meantime.”

  “Hey, don’t get the wrong idea, Webster,” she said hastily. “I said I’d raise ten thousand dollars, and I’ll do it, no matter what it takes. I don’t plan to enjoy this.”

  “Of course you don’t,” he said gently. “But that’s okay. It’s all for a good cause—right?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KIT WAS adding another name to her list—a tentative yes who wanted to think about the prize package he would offer before committing himself to the Dream Dates Auction—when she heard Susannah’s voice on the stairs. She glanced at t
he clock above her desk in surprise. It was past six, and she’d heard Susannah leave her office at least half an hour ago. Besides, who was she talking to? Alison was meeting with a client, and Rita had gone home long since.

  “She certainly needs a break,” Susannah said, and a moment later she put her head around the edge of Kit’s office door. “Look what I found on the doorstep as I was leaving, Kitty.”

  “If you’ve brought in that photographer—” Kit bit her tongue a little too late and tried to change her expression to a smile. All I need is to be pictured scowling on the front page, she told herself.

  But the man behind Susannah wasn’t carrying a camera. In fact, Jarrett wasn’t carrying anything at all, and he was wearing the most informal clothes she’d ever seen him in. His black leather jacket, half-zipped over a lightweight sweater, looked as soft as a cloud, and his jeans appeared to have been washed a thousand times, till they hugged his body with the same ease as his skin.

  He probably pays a stand-in to wear his jeans till they’re soft and comfortable enough to suit him, Kit thought.

  “What photographer?” he asked.

  “It’s our first experience with a paparazzo,” Susannah said. “He spent the afternoon camped out across the street. He’s gone now, though. Poor guy—all those dull hours, and he misses out on the excitement, anyway.”

  “You mean Jarrett dropping by? I don’t know that I’d call that excitement,” Kit said. “And I’m sure I don’t need to point out that you’re early.”

  “I know, but considering how impatient you were to get out of the office last time we had an appointment...” He pulled a chair around and straddled it. “Thanks, Susannah.”

  “Never let it be said,” Susannah murmured, “that I don’t know a dismissal when I hear one. See you tomorrow, Kit.”

  Kit leaned back in her chair and tapped her pen on the desk blotter until she heard the front door close behind Susannah. “In fact,” she added, “you’re almost an hour early. Go away.”

  His voice was soft, almost confiding. “It occurred to me that though our date is for the basketball game, not dinner—”

  “It’s not a date, remember?”

  He didn’t seem to hear. “We do have to eat sometime. So—”

  “I was planning to go around the corner to pick up a sandwich. You, of course, may do whatever you like.”

  “Then I’ll join you. Lovely of you to invite me.”

  You’re going to have to learn to be more careful about the way you phrase things, Kit told herself.

  “Shall we go now?”

  “No,” Kit said perversely. “I’d planned to spend another half hour making calls.” She swiveled her chair till her back was to him and dialed the next number on her list.

  “All right. Walking into the game well into the first quarter will probably get more attention than being there early, anyway.”

  Kit frowned. “Why? Won’t everyone be watching the game?”

  “No, they’ll be wondering what we’ve been doing that was so important we missed the tip-off.” Jarrett shrugged. “But if you don’t mind the comments, I certainly don’t.”

  Kit was torn between following through with her plan or giving up and admitting that he’d outmaneuvered her. Just as she decided to break the connection, the phone clicked in Kit’s ear and a masculine voice said, “Hello?”

  Unable for the moment to remember who she’d called; Kit scrambled for her list and launched into her pitch.

  Jarrett got up, pushed his chair into place and wandered across the room. Kit was momentarily relieved—he could have sat there watching her—until she saw from the corner of her eye that he’d discovered her dartboard.

  The man on the other end of the phone line interrupted her halfway through her explanation. “Is this the same silly thing Jarrett Webster’s got himself into?”

  “Yes, it is, though I assure you the cause we’re raising funds for is a very serious problem, not silly at all. We’d love to have you—”

  “Oh, why not? It might be fun to watch Chicago’s finest make fools of themselves. Especially Jarrett.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed,” she said sweetly. “I certainly plan to do my best where he’s concerned.”

  “Tell him I’ll look forward to it.”

  Another person who assumes Jarrett and I are seeing each other, Kit thought.

  A few minutes later, she put the phone down, and Jarrett turned from the window. “Success?” he asked.

  “Two more leads.” She noted the details on her list. “And, for some lucky lady, an evening at the opera.”

  “Now that’s a true dream date.” He sounded almost admiring.

  “Why?” Kit looked up. “I wouldn’t have thought of you as an opera fan.”

  “I’m not. It’s interesting you’d pick up on that fact, though. Is your intuition working overtime where I’m concerned, Kitten?”

  How did I know? Kit asked herself, momentarily puzzled. She might be uncomfortably aware of the man’s magnetic aura, but that was a far cry from being psychically tuned to his preferences. It must have been his invitation to the basketball game that had made his comment about the opera stand out in such stark contrast, she decided. Though of course nothing said a man couldn’t like both....

  And she was spending far too much time and effort thinking about what he might or might not like.

  “Of course not,” she said firmly. “Where you’re concerned, I have hardly any intuition at all. But if you don’t like opera, why would you think it’s a wonderful date?”

  “Because there’s one outstanding thing about opera. It’s utterly impossible to talk to your companion while all that caterwauling is going on.”

  Kit laughed. “And since the poor man can’t choose his companion, at least he can control the conditions? Yes, I see why you’d think that was an advantage. Well, you’d better not postpone announcing your own package, because at this rate all the really good plans will be used up by the end of the week.”

  “As soon as I have it all figured out,” he said earnestly, “you’ll be the first to know.”

  Kit recognized the quotation. Her own words seemed to be coming back at her with annoying frequency. She also didn’t miss the sparkle in Jarrett’s eyes, which said he was hoping for a reaction, so she kept her voice deliberately level. “Just remember that the longer you wait, the more it will take to make a splash. You wouldn’t want to look as if you were imitating somebody else’s idea, would you?”

  He looked thoughtful. “Only if it’s a really good one.”

  “I’ve already given you a winner, Jarrett. It’s not my fault if you don’t take advantage of it.”

  “The sailboat?”

  Kit nodded. “But I already have a trip to the beach and a day on a cabin cruiser on Lake Michigan. Yes, I think it’ll take at least a month on a deserted island to compete.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly. “Tell me again how much you said you’d be willing to pay?”

  Jarrett’s prediction was right—the game had already started when they arrived. Just as they came through the gate at the top of the arena and Kit got her first good view, the biggest star on the home team sank a threepoint goal and the crowd screamed.

  She clapped her hands over her ears as the roar swelled and echoed through the enormous space. “And you think opera’s loud?”

  Jarrett cupped a hand over his ear and bent his head toward her. “What did you say?”

  His lips brushed ever so casually against her temple, and Kit jumped as if she’d collided with a high-voltage wire. Her foot landed in a puddle of spilled soda and slipped out from under her, and wildly she tried to regain her balance.

  Instantly Jarrett’s arm curved around her, warm and solid and supportive. “Careful! You never know whose lap you might end up in around here.”

  “Thanks,” Kit managed to say. Idiot, she told herself. You’re acting as if he meant to kiss you!

&nb
sp; An electronic photo flash popped directly into her eyes, and Kit threw up her hand in a futile effort to ward off the harsh light. She tried to blink away the blue dots the flash had seared on her retinas, and cast a suspicious look at Jarrett. Had he spotted the photographer and planned that little stunt?

  “I put my arm around you, and instantly you start seeing stars,” he murmured. “How flattering, my dear.”

  Even with the game under way, the aisles were full of people coming and going to rest rooms and refreshment stands. In the confusion, Kit didn’t object when Jarrett took her hand to lead the way down the steep incline toward the front of the section.

  His reserved seats were at courtside, in the front row. No doubt, Kit thought, they were the best in the house. And no wonder he’d said that they’d get more attention by coming in late. With a momentary lull in the floor action, Kit felt as if every pair of eyes in the whole crowded auditorium was on her. Even a couple of the players seemed to be watching.

  “Don’t think I’m trying to influence you,” Jarrett said gently. “But you might at least attempt to appear as if you’re having a good time.”

  Kit wanted to thumb her nose at him. Instead, she turned to stare at him with enormously wide eyes and the most insincere smile in her repertoire. “Like this?” “It might pass muster from a couple of miles away.” He leaned back in his seat with the long fingers of one hand cupping his jaw while his other hand toyed with Kit’s. “I hope you don’t mind if I enjoy the game.”

  “Please do. I’ve never been much of a basketball fan, myself.”

  He turned to look squarely at her. “Then why did you choose the game over dinner?”

  For the first time, Kit smiled at him with real warmth. “Because you didn’t offer to take me to the opera,” she murmured.

  Jarrett burst out laughing.

  The effect of that laugh, Kit thought in bemusement, was something like being dipped in a vat of warm, dark, sweet-scented chocolate. His deep, rich chuckle seemed to wrap around her, clinging closely and filling every pore till her body was steeped in his laughter, shutting out every other noise and sensation in the arena.