“Special project?” Michael tossed Ivan a cautious sideways glance as he leaned forward to offer his hand to Katie. He flicked his dark gaze over her and she felt his instant assessment and brief flicker of curiosity.
She had the uncomfortable sense that this man might see more than she would like. Katie gave his strong hand a brief squeeze. “Mr. Wingate,” she murmured.
“Miss Collins,” he said, and turned back to Ivan. “You mentioned a special project, sir.”
Ivan lifted his chin and gave a nod. “Yes, I told you I have an interesting business proposition for you.”
“But you wouldn't elaborate when I asked,” Michael said in a silky smooth voice.
Ivan smiled coyly. “I like your drive, boy.”
Katie's stomach twisted. Someone got the shaft when ever Ivan was coy. She prayed it wouldn't be her. She looked at the broad-shouldered back of Michael Wingate and had a niggling suspicion that this was not a man who liked to play.
She noticed Michael remained silent. A negotiation strategy, she suspected, having watched Ivan engage other men. He who speaks first loses, she'd once heard Ivan say.
Ivan cleared his throat. “I have a family matter that requires your services. I'd like to see my daughter settled and married. While my wife and I are away on a cruise, my assistant Miss Collins, has agreed to help Wilhemina. I would like you to handle the security details.”
Complete silence followed again, although this time, a hushed quality of shock filled the air. Unable to deny her curiosity, Katie surreptitiously took a half step forward so she could view Michael Wingate's face. He did not look pleased.
“Mr. Rasmussen, I appreciate you thinking of me, but I no longer provide bodyguard services myself. Perhaps I could assign one of my employees to assist you. I was interested in providing a security program for your company.”
“I know,” Ivan said. “But I've used the same security for three years. Except for some dated equipment they've done a decent job. If I'm going to change security companies, I've got to be sure you're going to do a better job than they do.”
“I've shown you our employees’ resumes and you know our record is exemplary,” Michael said and Katie noticed the slightest twitch of impatience at the corner of his right eye.
“But your other clients are small potatoes compared to Ivan Enterprises,” Ivan said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. He swaggered, as much as a short, portly man could swagger, over to his desk and withdrew a Cohiba. Esplendido cigar from the wooden humidor. He offered one to. Michael. “You and I both know that if you win my security contract, you'll be moving in a totally different league. If you want a shot at my company business, you have to prove you can take care of my family business.”
One day, Michael Wingate promised himself as he accepted the cigar, he would be able to tell Ivan Rasmussen to stick his prized Cohiba Esplendido up his ass. Not now, though, he thought as he watched Ivan make a show of trimming and lighting the cigar. As much as he hated the fact, the truth remained that Ivan Rasmussen not only offered Michael the opportunity to take his business to the next level, an association with the manipulative little bastard would give Michael the chance to gain back a measure of his respect That combination kept Michael from dropping his Cohiba onto the floor and grinding it into Ivan's antique oriental rug.
Instead Michael drew no pleasure as he trimmed his cigar and puffed From the time he was a child, Michael had known the art of cigar smoking was a necessary evil among Philadelphia's elite. Since he'd become an adult he'd learned the size of the cigar correlated with the wannabe dick size of the smoker.
Ivan wore a thoughtful, cagey expression. The man knew he held all the trump cards. Michael fought the sensation of chains closing around him. He could take this or leave it, he told himself. He could walk out of here. But Ivan's offer included too many benefits, none of which included working with his strange assistant Michael wouldn't be worth a nickel as a security specialist if he hadn't learned how to assess a person in sixty seconds or less. With the exception of her killer legs, the woman was so plain Michael wondered if she had gotten an un-makeover. Her drab shapeless dress, unflattering hairstyle, and glasses made her look older than she was. He wondered why she wanted to look older. There was always a reason. In his profession, he'd learned everyone had secrets. He wondered what secret the deliberately painfully plain Miss Collins hid. Her unlined skin and watchful blue eyes gave her youth away. He could feel her watching him even now. He pegged her age at twenty-six, her sexual appeal, intentionally zip. For a sliver of a second he wondered if she was one of those women who dressed like plain-Jane, but made love like a man's favorite bad-girl fantasy. He pushed the thought aside.
“What are the terms?” Michael asked, returning his attention to the more important matter at hand.
Ivan smiled broadly. “I knew you would be interested. You're hungry,” he said. “I like that It's a piece of cake. Miss Collins will provide prospective candidates for my daughter to marry. You will thoroughly screen them. No ex- convicts, no freeloaders, no disease carriers, and no red- necks. I can't accept a redneck for a son-in-law. And you're to provide protection for Wilhemina and my home in my absence.”
Michael had learned the hard way to detest vague agreements. “What is the duration of the assignment?”
“Just until Patricia and I return from the cruise,” Ivan said with a shrug.
“And we agree that if I handle the security for your daughter, then my company will handle the security for Ivan Enterprises beginning on the date of your return.” Michael clarified.
Ivan frowned. “Well, we might have to negotiate the start date for your company. After all, I'll have to give the current security company notice.”
Michael felt as if he were nailing a slimy worm to the wall. “What exactly would the start date be?”
Ivan rolled Ms shoulders in a near-squirm. “How about six months after I get back from Europe?”
“How about two weeks and in writing?” Michael returned. He was nobody's fool.
Ivan stretched his neck and gave an uneasy chuckle. “You and Miss Collins have a bit in common. You both drive a hard bargain. She wanted the agreement in writing too. No problem. I'll have my attorney draw up the papers.”
“That's not necessary,” Michael interjected, not distracted by Ivan's false flattery. “I'm sure your attorney is busy with other matters. I'll have my attorney draft an agreement.” He pulled out his Palm Pilot and flipped through his calendar. “Shall we meet Thursday at ten
A.M.
or three-thirty?”
“Ten
A.M
., but my attorney will want to look over the agreement before I sign it,” Ivan said with a wary glint in his beady eyes. He wore the expression of a man having second thoughts, as if he knew he'd dangled a juicy T-bone in front of a starving dog, and if he wasn't careful, the dog would take a few of his fingers along with the steak.
Michael would have to say that Ivan's uneasiness was warranted, he thought as he stubbed out his cigar in a crystal ashtray. After getting the shaft from his former business partner four years ago and getting dumped by his fiancée at the same time, Michael might not be a desperate man, but he was damn well determined. He'd learned never to depend on anyone, and his painful education, which had started at an early age, had turned all his soft spots to steel.
One week later, Ivan and Patricia were making last-minute preparations for the trip. Katie was to move in the following day, but she knew from Ivan's schedule that her boss had planned a meeting that afternoon with his attorney. She'd met Ivan's attorney, Gaston Hayes, before, and the beady-eyed, sharp-nosed man reminded her of something from the dark underworld. He gave her the creeps.
But he was important to Ivan, and since Katie had just entered into a legally binding agreement with Ivan, she suspected she had better stay informed. She wasn't normally snoopy and was scrupulous about respecting her employer's confidentiality, but this time she felt she had to make an exception.
Checking her watch, she saw that Gaston was due in two minutes. He was always prompt. Katie could hear Ivan trying to escape a discussion about packing with Patricia. Looking behind her and in front of her, she crept into Ivan's office and walked directly to the closet. Suddenly hearing voices, she opened the closet door, stepped inside, and closed it.
A hand closed over her mouth.
“
It is better to be on the receiving end of a shocked stare than a bored yawn.
”
—S
UNNY
C
OLLINS'S WISDOM
T
error filled her throat and Katie opened her mouth to scream.
“Be quiet. We're both here for the same reason,” Michael Wingate said, still holding his hand over her mouth.
Her heart pounding a mile a minute, she shook her head to free her mouth with no success. Panicking, she stepped backward onto his foot.
He swore and removed his hand. For two seconds. She sucked in a quick breath, and he covered her mouth again.
“I'm not going to hurt you. Be quiet so we can hear. If I take my hand away, you have to promise that you'll be quiet Nod your head if you promise.”
She nodded. He removed his hand and she tried to step away from his tall, overpowering frame. She started to trip on something she couldn't see, and he pulled her upright against him.
“Just be still for God's sake!” he whispered tersely.
“Excuse me for not knowing the etiquette for sharing a closet with a man I don't know or trust” she whispered just as tersely.
“Be quiet. They're coming.”
Katie heard Ivan's and Gaston's voices as they entered the office and held her breath. If she could see her face right now, she was sure it was fire-engine red. She was completely mortified to be caught eavesdropping.
“I don't know where Katie went,” Ivan said.
“Maybe to the rest room or on a coffee break,” Gaston said. “Isn't that where female employees usually spend most of their time?”
Ivan chuckled. “You're right about that.”
Katie growled.
Michael pinched her.
She elbowed him in the ribs.
“Have a cigar, Gaston.”
“Thank you very much. You have the best.”
“Only the best,” Ivan said, and Katie could easily picture the old man puffing out his chest.
“Suck up,” she muttered, hearing the faint sounds of trimming, torching, and puffing.
“What did you need this afternoon, Mr. Rasmussen?”
“I'm going out of town tomorrow for an extended trip and I want you to check on the house every now and then.”
“Because of your arrangement concerning Wilhemina,” Gaston said.
“Exactly. I trust Katie as much as I trust any female employee. She's got a good head on her shoulders, but like most women her heart will ultimately win over her head I still can't believe she's going to try to do this job for one hundred thousand dollars. Orly of Beverly Hills charges two hundred thousand for matchmaking.”
Katie bit her tongue. She'd thought she'd done pretty well. Ivan's denigrating words stung.
“Well, Miss Collins is a rank amateur in this area. If you'll forgive me, sir, I'm surprised you chose someone to help Wilhemina who appears to have no fashion sense.”
“Katie is motivated. She may wear ugly clothes and be plain as beige, but she wants to make money. I've always tried to work that kind of motivation in my favor.”
“Which is why you're so successful, Mr. Rasmussen,” Gaston said.
“I'm going to be sick,” she mouthed, entirely too aware of Michael Wingate's muscular body brushing against hers. His cologne smelled ten times better than those stinky cigars.
“Now Wingate is a different matter. He's motivated by money, but I don't entirely trust him.”
“Then, if you'll pardon me, why did you hire him, sir?”
“Because my security company refused to accept the job,” Ivan said in disgust “I'll cut them loose for that. Michael was the most persistent security specialist to contact me. Most importantly, he was available to watch over Wilhemina while I'm gone.” He made a puffing sound. “Don't get me wrong. His record is squeaky clean.”
“Except?”
Ivan chuckled. “Very good, Gaston. Nobody's perfect” Michael held his breath while he waited to hear Ivan's comments.
“His black mark is his family. His parents were mentally unstable.”
Michael felt a knot form in his gut. Would the black cloud from his parents’ weaknesses ever leave? He gritted his teeth.
“A shame,” Gaston said with polite insincerity.
“Yes, it is. That's why I'd like you to stop by the house every so often. You don't mind, do you?”
“I'd be honored, sir.”
“Good, I'll give you a number where I can be reached in case of emergency,” Ivan said, and the intercom beeped.
“Ah, that's Patricia again.” He sighed. “Thank you for coming at such short notice. Do you mind seeing yourself to the door?”
“Not at all, sir.”
Michael heard a clicking sound. “Coming, Patricia,” Ivan said, then heavy footsteps followed.
“Wait ten seconds,” he said in a low voice to Katie Collins. It was a wonder the woman hadn't maimed him when he'd tried to keep her quiet. Her hair smelled good, he'd noticed. Like a mixture of sunshine and flowers.
She moved forward to open the door and turned the knob to no avail. “It's locked!” she whispered in a horrified voice. “What are we going to—”
Michael put his hands on her slim waist and moved her aside, feeling the brush of her breasts against his arm as he set her down. For a half second, he wondered what her body really looked like without the ugly clothes.
Quickly setting the thought aside, he pulled out a credit card and unlocked the door. Katie followed him out in a rush.
Looking from side to side, she inhaled a deep draft of air and took a few tentative steps toward the outer office. She peeked through the doorway and waved him on. Michael stood right behind her and she turned, searching his face. The color of her blue eyes was unusually intense, he noticed. A man would have to stand close to notice, the same way he'd noticed the scent of her hair.