The Ceo’s Accidental Bride

Kaitlin gaped at her friend in astonishment. All this fighting was a ruse. “You’ve got a thing for Dylan.”

“I’ve got a thing for proving he’s a pirate,” Lindsay stated primly, sitting up straight in the driver’s seat, flipping on the windshield wipers. “It’s an intellectual exercise.”

“Intellectual, my ass.”

“It’s a matter of principle. Plus, the semester just ended, and I’m a little bored.”

Despite all the angst of the evening, Kaitlin couldn’t help but laugh. “I think it’s a matter of libido.”

“He’s incredibly annoying,” said Lindsay.

“But he is kind of cute.” Kaitlin rotated her neck, trying to relieve the stress.

“Maybe,” Lindsay allowed, braking as a bus pulled onto the street. “In a squeaky-clean-veneer, bad-boy- underneath kind of way.”

“Is that a bad kind of way?” The few times Kaitlin had met Dylan at the office, she’d mostly found him charming. He had a twinkle in his blue eyes, could make a joke of almost anything and, if it hadn’t been her briefcase in question, she might have admired his loyalty to Zach for stealing it.

Lindsay gave a self-conscious grin, rubbing her palms briskly along the curve of the steering wheel. “Fine. You caught me. I confess.”

Grinning at the irony, Kaitlin continued. “His best friend’s locked in an epic struggle with your best friend. You’ve called into question the integrity of his entire family. And you practically arrested him for stealing my briefcase. But other than that, I can see the two of you really going somewhere with this.”

Lindsay shook back her hair. “I’m only window-shopping. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a little libido mixed in with an intellectual exercise.”

Kaitlin couldn’t help laughing. It was a relief to let the anger go. “Zach groped me under the table during dinner. How’s that for libido?”

Lindsay sobered, glancing swiftly at Kaitlin before returning her attention to the road. “Seriously?”

“I guess he’s still trying to distract me.”

They pulled into a parking spot in front of Kaitlin’s apartment building, and Lindsay set the parking brake, shifting in her seat. “Tell me that’s not why you showed him the plans.”

“It wasn’t that distracting.” Well, in fact he was entirely that distracting. But the distraction was irrelevant to her decision. “I showed him the plans to shut him up.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Mostly.

Lindsay gave a wry grin. “Poor Zach. Part of me can’t wait to see what he tries next.”

And part of Kaitlin couldn’t help hoping it involved seduction.

In his office Monday morning, Zach was forced to struggle to keep from fantasizing about Kaitlin. He was angry with her over the lavish designs, and he needed to stay that way in order to keep his priorities straight. Thinking about her smooth legs, her lithe body and those sensuous, kissable lips was only asking for trouble. Well, more trouble. More trouble than he’d ever had in his life.

“-to the tune of ten million dollars,” Esmond Carson was saying from one of the burgundy guest chairs across from Zach’s office desk.

At the mention of the number, Zach’s brain rocked back to attention. “What?” he asked bluntly.

Esmond flipped through the thick file folder on his lap. The gray-haired man was nearing sixty-five. He’d been a trusted lawyer and advisor of Zach’s grandmother Sadie for over thirty years. “Rent, food, teacher salaries, transportation. All of the costs are overstated in the financial reports. The foundation has a huge stack of bills in arrears. The bank account has maxed out its overdraft. That’s how the mess came to my attention.”

Zach couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How had things gotten so out of hand? “Who did this?”

“Near as we can tell, it was a man named Lawrence Wellington. He was the regional manager for the city. And he disappeared the day after Sadie passed away. My guess is that he knew the embezzlement would come to light as soon as you took over.”

“He stole ten million dollars?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“You’ve called the police?”

Esmond closed the file folder, his demeanor calm, expression impassive. “We could report it.”

“Damn right we’re reporting it.” Zach’s hand went to his desk phone. Someone had stolen from his grandmother. Worse, they’d stolen from his grandmother’s charitable trust. Sadie was passionate about helping inner-city kids.

“We’re having him arrested and charged,” Zach finished, lifting the receiver and raising it to his ear.

“That might not be your best option.”

Zach paused, hand over the telephone buttons. He lifted his brows in a silent question.

“It would generate a lot of publicity,” said Esmond.

“And?” Who cared? It wasn’t as if they had any obligation to protect the reputation of a criminal.

“It’ll be a media circus. The charity, your grandmother’s name, all potentially dragged through the mud. Donors will get nervous, revenue could drop, projects might be canceled. No one and no company wants their name linked with criminal behavior, no matter how noble the charity.”

“You think it would go that way?” asked Zach, weighing the possibilities in his mind, realizing Esmond had a valid point.

“I know a good private investigative firm,” said Esmond. “We’ll look for the guy, of course. And if there’s any benefit in pressing charges, we’ll press them. But my guess is we won’t find him. From the records I’ve reviewed, Lawrence Wellington was a very shrewd operator. He’ll be long gone. Sadie’s money’s long gone.”

Zach hissed out a swearword, dropping the receiver and sliding back in his tall chair.

The two men sat in silence, midmorning sunshine streaming in the big windows, muted office sounds coming through the door, the familiar hum of traffic on Liberty Street below.

“What would Sadie want?” Esmond mused quietly.

That one was easy. “Sadie would want us to help the kids.” Zach’s grandmother would want them to swiftly and quietly help the kids.

Esmond agreed. “Are you in a position to write a check? I can pull this out of the fire if you can cover the losses.”

What a question.

Like every other transportation company in the world, Harper’s cash flow had been brutalized these past few years. He had ships sitting idle in port, others in dry dock racking up huge repair bills, customers delaying payment because of their own downturns, creditors tightening terms, and Kaitlin out there designing the Taj Mahal instead of a functional office building.

“Sure,” he told Esmond. “I’ll write you a check.”

He put Esmond in touch with his finance director, asked Amy to have Kaitlin come to his office, then swiveled his chair to stare out at the cityscape, hoping against hope his grandmother wasn’t watching over him at this particular moment. In the three short months since her death, it felt as if the entire company was coming off the rails.

Not entirely his fault, of course. But the measure of a business manager wasn’t how he performed when things were going well, it was how he performed under stress. And the biggest stress of his present world was on her way up to see him right now.

A few minutes later, he heard the door open and knew it had to be Kaitlin. Amy would have announced anyone else.

“You can close it behind you,” he told her without turning.

“That’s okay,” she said, her footsteps crossing the carpet toward his desk.

He turned his chair, coming to his feet, in no mood to be ignored. He strode around the end of the big desk. “You can close the door behind you,” he repeated with emphasis.

“Zach, we-”

He breezed past her and firmly closed it himself.