The Billionaire Bid. Leigh Michaels

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      CHAPTER TWO

      GINA couldn’t believe the sheer arrogance of his question. Your place or mine? The very suggestion was an insult. Even if she actually had been staring at him yesterday at The Maple Tree—which of course she hadn’t—she wouldn’t have been inviting that sort of treatment. If he went around like this, propositioning every woman who happened to look in his direction…

      The CEO said under his breath, “Dez, I think you’re on thin ice.”

      Dez Kerrigan didn’t seem to hear him. He glanced at his watch and then back at Gina. “I’m a little busy just now, but after the press conference we can meet at your office, or at mine. Which would you prefer?”

      Gina gulped. “Office?”

      “Of course.” There was a speculative gleam in his eyes. “What did you think I was doing—inviting you to climb into my hot tub for a chat?” He shook his head. “Sorry, but I’d have to know you a lot better before I did that.”

      Gina felt as if she was scrambling across a mud puddle, trying desperately to keep her feet from sliding out from under her. She needed to do something—and fast—to get her balance back. “I, on the other hand,” she said sweetly, “am quite certain that getting better acquainted wouldn’t make any difference at all in how I feel about you.”

      His eyes, she had noticed, were not quite hazel and not quite green, but a shade that fell in between. Unless he was amused—then they looked almost like emeralds. And there was no question at the moment that he was amused.

      “I suppose I should be flattered,” he murmured. “Lust at first sight is a well-recognized phenomenon, of course, but—”

      Even though Gina knew quite well that he was laughing at her, she still couldn’t stop herself. “That is not what I meant. I was trying to say that I can’t imagine any circumstance whatever that would get me into a hot tub with you.”

      “Good,” Dez said crisply. “Now we both know where we stand. Do you want to talk about the building, or not?”

      Gina could have hit herself in the head. How could she have gotten so distracted? “Since you’ve only just cut a deal to buy it, I don’t see why you’d be interested in talking about selling it.”

      “Don’t know much about the real estate market, do you? Just because there’s been one deal negotiated doesn’t mean there couldn’t be another. Let me know if you change your mind.” He stepped off to the side of the platform as Ross Clayton tapped the central microphone in the bank set up on the lectern.

      Gina, fuming, headed for the exit. What was the point in sticking around? She had real work to do.

      The television reporter who had been standing next to her earlier intercepted her near the door. “What was that little face-off all about?”

      “Nothing at all,” Gina said firmly and kept walking.

      She was halfway back to the museum before she could see the faintest glimmer of humor in the whole situation. And she found herself feeling a hint of relief as well. Of course, she was still disappointed at losing the chance to acquire an ideal building, but at least she hadn’t made a fool of herself by going public with her crazy plan before she’d checked it out. It would have been almighty embarrassing to have gotten the museum board excited over the possibilities and then had to go back to them and admit that her brainstorm hadn’t worked.

      Tyler-Royale’s CEO was a pro with the press, Dez thought as he listened to the smooth voice explaining that no, the five hundred employees of the downtown store would not lose their jobs but would be absorbed into the chain’s other area stores. The reporters were circling like sharks in the water, snatching bites now and then, but Ross remained perfectly calm and polite. As the questions grew more inane, Dez let his attention wander to more interesting matters.

      Like the little redhead who had been lying in wait for them. Now she was something worth thinking about. First she’d turned up at The Maple Tree yesterday, having lunch with the press. He’d thought that perhaps she was a reporter too. That would account for the inspection she’d given him. She’d looked him over like a cynical searchlight—not exactly the sort of feminine once-over he was used to.

      Apparently his guess had been wrong, however. I’m with the Kerrigan County Historical Society, she’d told Ross. And she wanted the building. I think it would make a wonderful museum.

      Dez snorted. The trouble with the history-loving types was that they were completely impractical. The woman was totally out of touch with reality or she wouldn’t have suggested anything so patently ridiculous as turning the Tyler-Royale store into a museum.

      His aunt Essie would have done the same sort of thing, of course. Dez remembered visiting Essie when he was a kid, and being creeped out and fascinated all at the same time. In Essie’s house, there was no telling what you might run into at the next turn. He’d found a full human skeleton in a bedroom closet once; Essie had calmly told him it was left over from the personal effects of the first doctor who’d set up practice in Kerrigan County.

      And that had been well before Essie’s house had formally become a museum. Though he hadn’t been inside the place in at least a decade, he had no trouble imagining how much more stuff she’d collected over the years. He’d been frankly amazed, when Essie died, that they hadn’t had to tear the house down in order to extricate her body from all the junk she’d collected.

      At least this young woman appeared to have a little more sense than Essie had—she didn’t seem to want to live in her museum. Other than that, she might as well be Essie’s clone.

      Apart from looks, of course. Essie had been tall and thin, seemingly all angular bone and flyaway gray hair, while this young woman was small and delicately built and rounded in all the right places. She had the big, wide-set, dark brown eyes of a street urchin—an unusual color for a redhead. Odd, how her hair had seemed sprinkled with gold under the myriad lights in the ballroom…

      “Dez?” the CEO said. “I’ll let you address that question.”

      Dez pulled himself back to the press conference, to a sea of expectant faces. What the hell was the question?

      “The Chronicle reporter asked about СКАЧАТЬ