Marriage Made on Paper

“Good. Put all of that in a press release and get it sent.”

“Just a second. I was in bed. Asleep. Like a normal person,” she said, sleep depravation making her grumpy.

She stood and made her way to her desk, which she had moved a mere foot away from her bed just for such occasions. Her laptop was still fired up, so she sat down, dashed off all of the necessary info and emailed it to Gage. “How’s that?”

“Good,” he responded a few moments later. “What do you suggest? Written or verbal?”

“Both. Call down there and see if you can speak to someone on the phone. I’ll contact the local news station. Then we’ll work on getting it into online editions of the papers today and print for tomorrow. That ought to defuse things, as much as possible anyway. They still might not be happy about the build in general, but if you show that you’re conscientious it should go a long way in smoothing things over, at least with the general public, which is really the best you can hope for.”

“You really are good,” he said, that voice sending a little frisson of … something … through her again. She’d thought she would get used to him in the months since he’d walked into her office and hired her. In a lot of ways she had, but he still had the ability to throw her off balance if she wasn’t prepared for him.

“I’m the best, Gage,” she said sharply, “don’t forget it.”

“How can I? You never let me.”

“I hope you mean in deed rather than word,” she said archly.

“Take your pick.”

“All right. I’m going to call some televisions stations and then I’m going back to bed.”

“Fine, but I need you in the office by five.”

She bit back a groan. “Of course.” It was likely he was already at the office. Between work and dalliances with supermodels she wasn’t sure if Gage Forrester ever slept.

She hung up the phone and proceeded to make her phone calls before falling back into bed. She could get two good hours before she had to be in the office.

And why did Gage’s voice seem to be echoing in her mind while she tried to drift off?

She walked into Gage’s office at 4:59 a.m. with two industrial-sized cups of coffee. “Thought you might need a hit,” she said, setting the cup down in front of him.

He looked up from his computer screen. Annoyingly, despite the five-o’clock shadow he was sporting he looked fresh and well-rested, while she knew she had puffy eyes that were just barely made to look normal by gobs of under-eye cream.

“I definitely need a hit,” he said, picking up the cup and bringing it to his lips. She couldn’t help but watch him, the way his lips moved to cover the opening of the lid, the slight view of his tongue. His mouth fascinated her. Like the effect his voice seemed to have on her, she was certain she didn’t want to know why his mouth fascinated her.

Well, she knew why. It was the same reason an endless stream of beautiful women were constantly on his arm. The same reason she did as much talking to the press about his personal life as she did about his professional life. Gage Forrester was one sexy man. Even she could admit that.

In theory, she liked sexy men, at least from a distance. When said sexy man was her boss, it made life a bit more complicated. It didn’t really matter, though. Business was business and she had no intention of crossing any lines with him. She wasn’t his type anyway. He liked party girls. The shallower, and the shorter the skirt, the better. And he definitely wasn’t her type. Of course, she wasn’t entirely certain what her type was as far as practical application went. Judging by her recent string of failed dates she didn’t really have a type.

“How many shots?” he asked, lowering the cup.

“Quad,” she answered, trying to bring her mind back into the present and away, far, far away, from his lips.

“Good. It’s going to be a long day.”

She sat down in the chair by his desk, pulled her notebook out of her briefcase and sat poised with a pen in her hand.

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Take physical notes on paper. You have a million little gadgets for that kind of thing. I know because most of them were purchased with your expense account.”

“This helps me commit it to memory. I always log it electronically later.”

A small smile curved his lips, lips she was staring at again. She looked down at her notebook.

“The England site, how do you feel about the damage control that’s been done there?”

“Great,” she said. “You have a satellite interview scheduled with one of the news outlets very late tonight. Also, the written release is set to run in major newspapers tomorrow, and you spoke to the organizer of the protests personally, right?”

“Yes. Nice woman. Didn’t like me very much. I think she called me a … capitalist pig.”

She looked up and her heart jumped a bit. She looked back down at the lined paper of her notebook. “You kind of are.”

“A rich one.”

“Touché.”

“I was able to explain to her the process by which we’re building the hotel. I also explained, very nicely, how it would help the economy, and that, in addition to the construction workers who have work now, it would provide at least a hundred permanent positions. And the fact that it’s being built on the site of what was essentially a crumbling wreck of an old manor, and not on any farmland, went over well.”

“All very good,” Lily said, scribbling on her notebook before reaching over to grab her coffee cup off of Gage’s desk and taking a sip.

In the beginning it had seemed strange, coming in early when no one else was in the building, sitting in Gage’s luxurious office, watching the sunrise, glinting off the bay, and the hundreds of boats moored in the San Diego harbor. It had almost seemed … intimate in some ways. Half the time he hadn’t shaved yet when she arrived, and he would go into his private bathroom that adjoined his office and take care of it before the other staff arrived, but he didn’t bother for her.

She’d never shared her mornings with a man before, so the insight into the masculine prep-for-the-day routine was an interesting one.

Then at eight his PA would arrive and Gage would brief him on the schedule for the day and Lily would go to her office. Her new office in Gage’s building. She and her small crew had relocated once she’d realized the constant crosstown commute wasn’t conducive to keeping tabs on her account with Forrestation, and they were essentially the only account she handled personally. Gage kept her too busy to do anything else.

“The build in Thailand is going well,” he commented.

“Good.”

“You’ve certainly managed to keep the public, and in turn, the shareholders, placated with that one.”

“You’re providing so many jobs for the area and the wages you pay are more than fair. It’s only going to be good for the economic growth of the region. And you’ve certainly taken great care to keep environmental impact at a minimum. And the fact that you bought several hundred acres and had it set aside as a wildlife preserve is helpful. If you would let me announce it.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders and his shirt pulled tight across his muscular chest, exposing the outline of his pectoral muscles. She looked away. “It doesn’t matter to me what the vocal minority thinks. No matter how many protesters show up at a construction site, the general public still patronizes my hotels and I can still sleep at night. Anything else is an incidental. It wouldn’t matter at all if weren’t for the shareholders. The curse of going public.”

“Why did you choose to go public then? You don’t strike me as the sort of man who likes to be accountable to anyone.”

He leaned back in his chair and pushed his dark hair off of his forehead. “You noticed.”

“Hard not to.”

“I went public because it’s a great way to increase visibility. And at the time I had debts to pay off from the start-up of the company. It helped increase my capital immensely, and enabled me to pay off the business loans I’d taken out.”

Gage was from a fairly affluent family, that was general knowledge. It surprised her that he’d had to take out loans to start up his company. She’d imagined him having full family support, both financially and emotionally. The fact that he started the same as she had, by herself, with nothing and no one standing by to bail her out, made her stomach tighten.

“But now you have to play the diplomacy game,” she said.

“I would anyway. I develop resort and hotel properties, the public has to have a favorable view of me.”

“That’s true.”

For the most part, the public did have a favorable view of him. He was charismatic and charming and dated the most eligible women in Hollywood, which put him on the front cover of a lot of magazines and made him very high-profile for a businessman.

He was also a slave-driving taskmaster, but only his employees knew that. And in fairness, he never expected anything from her that he didn’t expect from himself. In fact, he seemed to expect more from himself. Which was why, even when her phone rang at 3:00 a.m., she managed to resist hurling obscenities at him.

“Anything else on the agenda?” she asked.

“I need a date for an event tomorrow. Fundraiser. Art gala.”

“And you’ve misplaced your little black book?”

“No, it’s in a safe somewhere so that no one can ever get their hands on it and use it for evil.”

“You use it for evil,” she said.

“On occasion. But the real issue is that none of my black book entries are suitable.”

“Well that sounds like an issue of taste to me,” she said. It bothered her sometimes—okay, all the time—that a man with his drive to succeed dated women who were such bubbleheads. But then, she didn’t imagine he was interested in the contents of their minds.

“No, it’s an issue of venue. I want you to go with me.”

“What?”

“But you need something else to wear.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“You’re intelligent. You know how to make conversation.”

“So do most women. You just tend to date women who can’t talk and walk at the same time without injuring themselves.”

“I didn’t know you had an opinion on my choice of companion.”

She gritted her teeth. “Doesn’t matter, what matters is that I shield the public from the full horror of it. And what’s wrong with the way I dress?”

She spent an obscene amount of money buying good quality clothing and having it tailored. She always, always, looked polished and ready for a press conference. Always. It was essential to her job and she took it very seriously.

“Nothing. If you have a business meeting. But you look more like a politician’s wife than a woman I would take to a fundraiser.”

“Politicians’ wives go to fundraisers.”

“But I’m not a politician.”

“And I’m not for hire.”

His dark brows locked together. “No. You’re not, because I already hired you. You work for me, and if I need you I expect you to make yourself available. You signed a contract agreeing to it.”

“To be your PR specialist at all hours, which is quite enough, thank you very much, not to hang on your arm at art galas.”

“This is PR. I could skip the fundraiser and look like a capitalist pig with no conscience, or I could go with Shan Carter. She gave me her number the other night.”

An image of the spoiled blonde heiress in her thigh-high boots and cling-wrap dress flashed before Lily’s eyes.

“You can’t do that,” she said, all of her PR training recoiling in horror at the thought.

“I know. I didn’t even need you to tell me.”

“Fine. I’ll go. But you’re not picking my dress.”

His icy gaze swept her up and down. “You’re not.”

“Why not? You’ve never seen me in date clothes. You don’t know what my date clothes look like.” She didn’t own date clothes, but he didn’t have to know that. She had confidence in her taste in clothes. She knew what she looked good in and she really didn’t need some wafer-thin personal shopper to try and tell her what she already knew.

“All right, but no tweed.”

“I don’t wear tweed. Well, I have a jacket that’s tweed, but it’s chic. Lycra isn’t the official fabric of fashion, you know. Though I know you couldn’t prove it by your dates.”

He shrugged in that casual manner of his, that shrug that seemed especially designed to provoke her. “I like to have fun. I work hard. My obligations are met. I see no issue with conducting my personal life in the way I see fit.”

He had a point, as much as she hated to admit it. Although she couldn’t imagine why any woman in her right mind would date him. Well, that was a lie, it was obvious visually why a woman would want to date him. He was tall, broad-shouldered and perfectly built. But on a personal level, while he was smart and fun to banter with, he was also totally uncompromising when it came down to it, and she knew she could never deal with a man like that. She’d seen the kind of toll a man like that could take on a woman’s life. And she’d vowed she wouldn’t become like that. She wasn’t letting anyone have control over her life.

Although, obviously Gage had some modicum of control over her life since he was her boss, but that was different. When a woman gave a man her body he owned a piece of her. She thought the whole thing was just entirely too unsettling. And no matter how gorgeous Gage was, it wasn’t enough to erase the memories that she carried with her. Warnings. Her mother’s mistakes had to count for something, otherwise they really would be a complete tragedy, and as contentious as her relationship with her mother was, she didn’t want that.

“If you expect me to buy new clothes you have to give me time to shop.”

“You can have the afternoon off.”

She shook her head, her tight bun staying firmly in place. “Morning and afternoon. I need sleep.”

“Morning to lunch hour,” he countered.

“Deal.”

“No black. No beige.”

“It’s an art gala, most of the women will be in black.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why I want you to wear something else.”

She frowned. “I’m not in the habit of allowing men to dictate what I wear. I can choose for myself.”

He stood from his desk, and she was distracted, as she always was when he surprised her like that, by the superb shape of his body. Narrow waist, broad chest. And she knew, though she was ashamed to admit it, that he also had the best butt she’d ever seen. Although she hadn’t taken notice of very many men in that way before, so she didn’t have much to compare to.

He raised an eyebrow. “So if your lover had a preference for lingerie you wouldn’t consider that, either?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to will herself not to blush. She never let men rattle her. She’d been on the receiving end of pick-up lines from cheesy to crude since she began to develop at the age of thirteen, and then, after she’d moved and started her new life, men had naturally assumed she was ready to bed-hop her way to the top of the corporate ladder. As a result, she’d assumed she’d lost the ability to blush a long time ago. Apparently not. She felt her face get hot.

She’d never worried about her lack of sexual experience. It was a choice she’d made. In the environment she’d been raised in it had been a fight to hold on to any sort of innocence, physical or psychological, and she’d been determined that no one would take it from her. But in that moment she knew she would rather walk across broken glass than admit that no man had ever had cause to have an opinion about her lingerie.

“I have impeccable taste,” she said instead, lifting her chin, trying to keep her expression smooth. Cool. Not completely flustered. “No one has ever had reason to complain.” She picked her briefcase up from the floor and stood. “And neither will you.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the office, trying to ignore the thundering of her heart.

CHAPTER THREE

GAGE had never seen Lily look less than perfect. She always looked beautiful, even when she rushed into the office at two in the morning to handle some sort of media crisis. But in a dark navy blue gown with ruffled sleeves, a demure neckline and a back that dipped so low it ought to be illegal, she was stunning.

Her hair was pinned to the side so that her curls cascaded over one shoulder, and didn’t cover any of the skin that was on display in the back of the gown. Her makeup was more dramatic than she usually wore to the office and her legs were bare, and on glorious show, the dress barely skimming her knees. And they were amazing legs.

Gage’s libido kicked into gear, a reminder that he hadn’t had sex in a very long time. But business had been intense and when he hadn’t been focused on his various building projects he’d been handling Madeline’s big move into her new, off-campus apartment. An apartment she hadn’t wanted, because she couldn’t afford it herself. But there was no way he was letting his little sister live in a dangerous part of town, not when he could afford to buy her any home she might want. But she was stubborn, and while he appreciated that aspect of her personality, it could also be a major pain. It was also time-consuming and detrimental to his sex life.

But that was why he was now standing in the foyer of the San Diego Aquarium eyeing his PR specialist’s legs.

He put his hand on the curve of her bare back and he felt her jump beneath his touch. A slow smile curved his lips. He leaned in and her sweet feminine scent teased his sense. “You wore navy blue because I told you not to wear black, didn’t you?”

She pursed her lips and looked to the side, her expression defiant and sexy at the same time. “Maybe.”

“Because you like to challenge me without defying me outright,” he said, his lips brushing her ear. He felt the small tremor that shook her body. Interesting. She wasn’t as icy as she wanted him, and people in general, to believe.

“I don’t want to get fired,” she whispered, her dark eyes warning him to back up or lose a limb.

He frowned. He liked the feisty edge that Lily had, but she was his employee and he had no right to touch her simply because he felt an attraction. She was a good employee, and everything that made her so great to work with, made her the kind of woman he never wanted to get involved with.

He dropped his hand and studied her flawless face. She looked different out of her work suits, with her brown curls shimmering over her shoulder. Softer. Touchable.

His hands itched to do just that. To touch her petal-soft skin, to run his fingers through her hair. His body tightened in response to the thought, even as his mind rejected it.

“As if I would fire you,” he said, putting distance between them. “You know too much.”

“I think I might get that matted and framed. High praise indeed.”

They walked into the main section of the art exhibit, which was being held in the kelp forest. The entire room was cast in a bluish glow, compliments of the massive, three-story cylindrical aquarium that made up the structure of the space. Water plants grew to impossible heights and fish wove through them. Art was placed on easels around the room, with a place to write down and submit bids next to each one of them.

Gage walked over to one of the displays and, without even glancing at the artwork, took a form and wrote an astronomical sum on it before dropping it in the box.

“You really should be less discreet when you do things like that, and when you do things like create wildlife preserves near your resort sites,” she said.

“Why is that?”

“It would help your image. And you need it. ‘Property developer’ is kind of a tough profession to sell to the public. You could make my job easier by trumpeting charitable contributions.”

He frowned. “You were a witness. Trumpet it.”

“You don’t want me to, though.”

His jaw tensed. “Giving for the sake of your reputation is just paying for good publicity.”

“Most people don’t have a problem with that.”

“And what’s your opinion on it, Lily? And don’t give me your ‘my opinion doesn’t matter as long as the public likes you’ speech.”

She bit her lip. This side of Gage always confused Lily. In some ways he seemed more uncomfortable having people know anything good about him. He didn’t seem to mind the negative press that came when he dated one supermodel, then switched to an actress the next night. But he didn’t seem to want to let anyone know about his good behavior. And there was something about that that made her almost like him sometimes, and that made all the other physical things he made her feel intensify.

“It’s … okay, events like this are definitely a little bit fake. It’s see and be seen. Most people are flashing their bids all over the place.” She jerked her head toward the glittering celebrities and debutantes gathered around different pieces of art, waving their bids around while they talked.

“I don’t play the game,” he said. “It doesn’t appeal.”

“You have to play the game a little bit, Gage. It’s good for business.”

“What’s it like for you, doing a job that’s so at odds with who you are?”

The question was so strange and unexpected, she turned sharply, her mouth dropping open. “I … how is it at odds with who I am?” She knew better than most how important image was.

The Lily Ford from a Kansas trailer park, who had pulled her way from poverty and put her past far, far behind her, was not going to get anywhere in the field of public relations. She knew, she’d tried that. But the Lily Ford who knew how to present herself with icy cool dignity, the Lily who wore tailored, designer clothing and always had her hair done perfectly, that Lily was a success. And it had all been a matter of image.

Who she was underneath didn’t matter to clients or to the public when she was making a statement. All that mattered was what they saw. That philosophy was how she made her living, and she believed it, lived it, more than anyone she’d ever come into contact with.

“You seem to value some sort of integrity. And you believe that these sorts of shows of wealth and generosity are false. But you wish I would engage in them.”

She shrugged. “If the world were different, maybe these things wouldn’t matter. But we’re in a media-obsessed culture. That means making a good face to present to the media, and through that, the public.”

“I don’t like to pander to the public.”

“I know you don’t, but you do like to make money. And that means keeping your image favorable. Again, easier said than done for a capitalist pig like yourself.”

He shot her a deadly look that she ignored.

They continued to walk through the room. She noticed how, though Gage greeted people casually, he seemed separate from them, too. He didn’t really engage with people. She made her money partly by reading people, she had to have a good idea of who her clients were and what made them tick. But after four months, in a lot of ways, Gage remained a question mark. She spent nearly every day with him, but even with that, she knew very little about him personally.

The conversation they’d just had was probably the most revealing one she’d ever had with him. Otherwise it was confined to business.

Gage knew how to play the game. He said the right things to the right people, but there was nothing personal in the way he spoke to anyone. It was the first time she’d realized that even she had never seen past Gage’s public persona.

A thin blonde socialite with cleavage spilling over the top of her dress grabbed Gage by the arm and beamed up at him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Lily was standing on the other side of him.

“Gage,” the blonde said breathlessly. “I’m so glad I saw you here. There’s dancing out in the courtyard,” she added.

She noticed that Gage didn’t bother with his signature smile. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to dance with my date.” He hooked his arm around her waist and slid his fingers over her hip, the light touch sending heat ripping through her body. When he brought her close to his side her legs felt as if they might buckle.