Millionaires' Destinies: Isn't It Rich? / Priceless / Treasured. Sherryl Woods

      “What did he want?”

      Richard’s gaze narrowed. “Did you come over here at this hour to discuss my brother?”

      “No, I came to get started on your marketing plans. All the rest is what’s known in the civilized world as conversation, idle chitchat, small talk, whatever.”

      “I don’t have time for chitchat.” He gestured at the papers on his desk. “I’ve got a major division that’s underperforming. I need to figure out why.”

      He could be telling the truth or it could be an excuse. Melanie couldn’t tell from his bland expression. “Then I’ll get out of your hair,” she said easily. “When can we talk? I want to establish a plan, a budget, that kind of thing. If you have a campaign manager, I need to meet with him. He—or she—can take a lot of this strategy stuff off your shoulders.”

      Richard closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

      “Headache?” Melanie asked sympathetically. “Little wonder, given everything you have on your plate. How about some tea? If you have a kitchen around here somewhere, I can make it before I head back to my office.”

      “You’re not here to make me tea, dammit!”

      She stared at him until he sighed.

      “Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

      “True enough,” she said, determined not to make more out of his lousy mood than necessary to make her point that she wouldn’t accept it. “Is that a yes or a no on the tea?”

      He gestured to a door across the room. “There’s a kitchen setup in the conference room. There should be some tea in there. If you don’t mind making it, I’d love some.”

      “Lemon, sugar, anything?”

      “Nothing.”

      She went into the conference room, which was paneled and elegantly furnished. A lavish arrangement of fresh flowers sat in the center of the rosewood conference table. Anyone walking into the room would know that this was a top-flight company, run by people with taste and refinement. She wondered if that was Destiny’s doing or Richard’s.

      The kitchenette had a two-burner stainless-steel stove, a matching stainless-steel refrigerator, a cupboard filled with fine china and crystal and a drawer filled with sterling silver place settings, everything necessary for entertaining well-heeled board members.

      Melanie filled a teakettle with water and put it on to boil, then searched for the tea. She found a wooden tea chest with a dozen different blends, chose a packet of Earl Grey and then put it and a porcelain cup onto a small tray. When the water was ready she filled a matching porcelain teapot, added it to the tray and returned to Richard’s office.

      Without saying a word, she poured water over the tea bag, then backed away. “I’ll wait to hear from your secretary about scheduling that meeting.”

      As she started past Richard, he snagged her hand. “I really am sorry. My head’s throbbing, I’m in a lousy mood, but that’s no excuse for biting your head off.”

      She smiled at him. “As long as you see that, there might be hope for you yet.”

      “Even I’m not too old to learn a thing or two,” he said. “As long as you’re here, why don’t you stay and we can talk over some of your ideas? I don’t have a meeting scheduled until eight-thirty.”

      “What about that pile of paperwork?”

      “It can wait. I’m not thinking clearly enough to deal with it anyway.”

      Melanie nodded and sat down. “Okay, then, here are the things we need to nail down. How much time do you want me to spend on your marketing plan? Do you want an initial strategy that can be turned over to staff, or do you want me to stay on to coordinate it? Originally we talked about some consulting on Carlton Industries marketing, as well. Is that priority or is the campaign? I don’t need answers right this second, but you do need to think about all this. I don’t want to run up a bill, unless we’ve agreed on every aspect.”

      “I appreciate that,” Richard said, regarding her with a vaguely surprised expression.

      “What?”

      “I didn’t expect you to be so…” He faltered.

      “Organized?” she suggested mildly. “Could be that first impression I made. I really am good at what I do. Destiny wasn’t wrong about that.”

      “I’m beginning to see that.” He reached for a stack of folders on the corner of his desk and passed them to her. “These are résumés for prospective campaign managers. Look ‘em over and give me some input.” He scanned his day planner. “We’ll meet again at three. I’ll be able to give you fifteen minutes, so be on time and keep it short. I’ve set up an office for you down the hall. You can use it when you’re here. If you need anything that isn’t there, tell Winifred, my secretary. She’ll see that you have it. We’ll deal with all the other issues once the campaign manager has been hired. He should be in on that meeting.”

      “Agreed,” she said at once. “I’ll see you at three, then.”

      She was almost out the door, when he called her back. “Yes?” she said.

      “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

      “Richard—”

      He cut her off before she could voice the protest. “This is business. I have to attend a fund-raiser at eight. Destiny’s co-chair. There will be a lot of people there you should get to know.” He grinned. “And it will make Destiny happy to see you with me.”

      “Then the charade’s still on?” she asked, not entirely sure how she felt about that. The dancing of her pulse suggested she was happier than she should be.

      “Of course,” he said. “We agreed to keep it up until she backs off.”

      Melanie was struck by a worrisome thought. “Have you considered what might happen if she discovers this was all a game being played out for her benefit?”

      “Believe me, letting her find out is not an option,” Richard said grimly. “That’s why we can’t let down our guard for a second. She’ll be expecting me to bring you tonight.”

      At this rate, Melanie concluded that she was going to go broke buying an appropriate wardrobe for black-tie events. “What time?” she asked, resigned.

      “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

      Melanie nodded. “If there are more formal events like this where I’m going to be expected to show up on your arm, I’ll need more notice. I don’t have a fairy godmother who can magically make me look presentable.”

      His lips twitched. “Fair enough,” he said. “But don’t say that around Destiny. I have a hunch she’d be thrilled to be cast in the fairy-godmother role. Dressing three boys did not allow her to utilize her creative flair for fashion. No matter how ingenious the designer, a tux is still basically a tux.”

      Melanie laughed. “Yes, I imagine that could prove frustrating to a woman like Destiny.” She tapped the folders in her arms. “I’d better get busy with these.”

      Richard nodded. “See you at three, then.”

      “Right.”

      Melanie backed out of his office and closed the door behind her, then leaned against it. There had been at least three occasions in there when she’d wanted to dive across that massive desk of his and kiss him till his expression brightened. That would have been about as smart as nose-diving off the top of the Washington Monument.

      Now she was expected to spend yet another evening with Richard, pretending to be something more than a freelance marketing consultant, and at the end of the evening she was expected to go home—alone—and keep the man out of her dreams. If this kept up, she