Mary Wilson - The C.e.o. and The Secret Heiress

“Her father told you all of this?” she asked, cutting off his rambling dissertation.

“Not verbatim, but it’s obvious. He’s just trying to do something to salvage the situation. He’s her father, for heaven’s sake. How’s he supposed to feel? She’s put him through the wringer, and the poor guy just wants things to be okay.”

She was silent for a moment before saying, “You…you never know. Maybe she just got delayed.”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine she’d come all this way and not be busy doing something. Paris isn’t just a ‘hop over the pond,’ no matter what Europeans say about it.”

She glanced at him and found him studying her with a tight frown. “How did you know she was in Paris?”

She shrugged, looking away from him. “I must have read it somewhere, or you probably mentioned something about Paris. And…and, it just figures that she’d be on her way. I mean, what would be the point of her making her father even angrier? She has to care about him.”

“That’s up for grabs, but no matter what’s going on, she isn’t here, and with any luck she won’t show up. That would make things simpler all the way around,” he said as they drove on. “There’s so much going on, and I don’t have time to babysit.”

“And you, with your take on kids, you’d be some babysitter,” she muttered.

He shot her a look, but she was still staring out the windows, her hands pressed flat to the purse on her lap. “It wouldn’t be my idea of fun,” he said, turning away from her to look out at the early-evening streets. Then he heard himself admitting a truth he hadn’t expected to say to her. “You have this knack for getting me way off the topic and I’m not sure how you do it.”

“My father never figured it out, either,” she said. “He gets so annoyed when I—” She cut off her own words, then said, “Sorry, I’m doing it again.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he murmured, and meant it. She kept him on his toes.

“I think it’s because I was brought up to be ‘seen and not heard.’ Look pretty and be quiet. Make a good impression, but don’t ask questions.”

He glanced at her. “You’re an only child?”

“An only child brought up by my dad.”

“And you never gave him any trouble?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m no saint.”

“Well, join the crowd,” he murmured.

“You weren’t kidding about joyriding at twelve?”

“I did it from time to time.” Matt concentrated on his driving, instead of on words that were there, words that he’d never said to anyone before. Not even Zane. Yet he was on the verge of telling a woman who was almost a perfect stranger about himself as a twelve-year-old. He stopped himself before he went down that path. Enough was enough. “And we’re off the subject again.”

Gratefully, she let the subject of saints and sinners go. “You’re right. Let’s see,” she murmured as if trying to think of something to ask him. “So, the center, yes. Are you committed to making it work or are you in a wait-and-see position, and you’ll cut your losses if it fails to perform?”

He was taken aback again to hear words of “corporate speak” coming from this woman. “I guess that about sums it up.”

“I should have gone up to take a look at the original center to see how it’s decorated.”

He drove off when the light changed. “It’s done in Mother Goose sort of stuff.” He tried to think, but was having a bit of a hard time focusing when she shifted, sighing softly, and he knew she was looking right at him now. He grasped for what he could remember about the center. “The Big Bad Wolf, Three Little Kittens. Lindsey did most of the decorating herself. She did everything with the original program. And Mr. Lewis was behind her a hundred percent. I think it might have been his idea to begin with, maybe a way of making up for the shortcomings of his own parenting.”

This time there wasn’t a sigh, but a rush of air, and he knew what she was going to say before a word was uttered. So he cut her off at the pass. “Okay, okay,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I’m jumping to conclusions.”

“Amen,” she breathed.

He flashed her a look, half expecting a smile, but there wasn’t any humor there. The soft light exposed the cut of her high cheekbones, the fullness of her bottom lip and the anger in her expression. Despite that, her image stirred him. And he realized that he actually owed Brittany Lewis for not showing up, for making him late, for setting up the circumstance for him to meet B.J. But that didn’t mean he had to like the woman.

They were getting close to where B.J. lived, and he turned to concentrate on where he was going. “I suppose you want me to give Brittany Lewis the benefit of the doubt?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Even if she never shows up?”

“I’d even bet that she’ll show up.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Yes, and I’ll even bet that she’ll be sincere and willing to work.”

“Now, that’s a sucker bet,” he said. “She’ll never show up and even if she does, she’ll be more worried about color coordinating her wardrobe with her office than doing any work.”

“Do you want to make a bet?” she asked.

“How long do I have to wait tomorrow for her to show?”

“What time do you go into the office?”

“Usually around seven, but I’ve got some off-site meetings and won’t be in until ten.”

“Okay, ten it is.”

“Why are you so sure of this?” he asked, his fleeting glance finding her looking at him intently.

“Is it a bet?” she asked, matching a question for a question.

“That depends. What’s at stake?”

She shifted again, and the air stirred slightly in the car, carrying that flowery scent with it to brush his skin. Then she spoke and shocked him, something she’d seemed able to do with ease ever since they’d collided in the empty rooms of the center. “For you, an apology to Brittany Lewis.”

He slowed, but for no other reason than shock as he looked at her. “What?”

“An apology, as in, ‘I’m sorry I thought what I did of you,’ or something like that. You can write your own lines.”

“Thanks for that,” he murmured, and saw the street ahead of them where the town house complex was.

“Agreed?”

He had no idea how this whole conversation had ended in a bet that he knew he’d win. “First, tell me what do I get if I’m right and she never shows up?”

“What do you want? You name it.”

He knew what he wanted from her, but how could he tell this woman that he’d like her? “You admitting I was right, but this can’t just be her walking through the door.” He upped the stakes. “She has to actually do something productive at LynTech.”

“Then the ten o’clock deadline doesn’t work, does it?”

“Okay, why don’t we extend it for…oh…let’s see…December 23rd at—” He glanced at the dash clock, shocked that it had only been an hour and a half since this had all started. “Seven-thirty,” he said. “Give her—and you—plenty of time.”

“You’ve got a deal,” she said without hesitating. Then sat forward. “Let me out here,” she said abruptly, motioning to a small shopping center.

“The complex is just around the corner, isn’t it?”

“I need to shop,” she said as she motioned to a small market at one end of the complex.

He pulled into the parking lot and stopped by the grocery store. “I’ll wait,” he offered.

“No, thanks, I’m fine. I can walk. Thanks for the ride.” She opened the door, scrambling out, then she was looking back in at him. “I think Brittany Lewis will surprise you.”

He shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, and thought B. J. Smythe was the one who was surprising him. All he wanted right then was to figure out how to prolong this contact, but he didn’t have a chance. B.J. flashed him a smile, a stunning expression that literally made his breath catch in his chest.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, then the door closed and she was walking away.

He was tempted to watch her, just to watch her move, the way her hips swayed, her long legs, the way her hair brushed her shoulders. But he didn’t. He put the car in reverse and drove back out onto the street. Odd how the night seemed interminable now. Not long ago it had been packed with things for him to do, mostly work. But right then he couldn’t think of any of the things he had to do. Just the things he wished he could do.

BRITTANY MOVED into the store, going as far away from Matt Terrel and her stupidity as quickly as she could. A bet? What in the world had possessed her to do that? Probably the same thing that possessed her when she asked him for a ride. How could Brittany Lewis show up tomorrow, and not jeopardize the job she really wanted? She knew if she told him the truth, he’d put her in that office his secretary would find for her and banish her to the farthest regions of the place. As far away from him as he could get her.

But Brittany Lewis had to show up. Her father had to know she was there doing what she’d promised she’d do. And Matthew Terrel had to know she was there. Then she realized something. She never had to see Matt as Brittany. He’d said his secretary was taking care of everything. He wouldn’t be in until ten the next morning.

She turned, looked out the glass door at the fading tail-lights of Matt’s car and waited until it disappeared to the south. If he wouldn’t be there before ten, Brittany Lewis would be there at nine. She’d meet with the assistant, then leave again. With a good excuse. Maybe Brittany Lewis would need a new wardrobe to match her new office after all. She didn’t realize that she’d laughed out loud until someone spoke behind her.

“Can I help you, Miss?”

She turned to see a bulky gray-haired man behind a long glass counter. He was staring at her, and her laughter died. “Is there a local cab company?”

“Diamond.” He motioned over his left shoulder at a small ad board, one of many that lined the walls of the store. “That’s them.”

She saw the ad for Diamond Cabs, read the number, then looked back at the man. “Thanks,” she said and went back outside.

There was no sign of Matt, and she paused for a moment, a bit shocked when she realized how her life had shifted in the past hour. Crazy. She felt a bit insane at the speed of the changes in it, but there was an exhilaration, too, partly due to her desire to get this job on her own, with her own talent and work, and partly because she knew that she was going to face Matthew Terrel as Brittany Lewis in one week, and get an apology from him.

She called the cab company on her cell phone to get a ride to her family home south of the city. While she waited for it to arrive, she put in a call to her father. It rang four times before it went to his service. She left a quick message, just saying she had arrived in Houston safely, and she’d call him tomorrow evening with details about her job with LynTech.

As she hung up, she realized how relieved she was that she hadn’t had to talk to him directly. It had been hard enough twisting the truth with Matt, but she’d never get away with it with her father. So, the less he knew, the better.

December 12

BY THE TIME BRITTANY returned to LynTech the next morning at nine o’clock, she’d slept sporadically, finished a rough idea for the wall murals for the center and dressed to look like Brittany Lewis. A beige silk shirt, perfectly tailored slacks in taupe linen, leather sandals and her curls swept back with diamond combs and falling to her shoulders. She looked somewhat like a “spoiled brat” she thought, with gold added at her wrist and ears. It would be perfect for her meeting with Matt’s assistant.