Some Like It Charming - By Megan Bryce Page 0,16
in the world was she to fight a desperate Ethan O’Connor?
He cleared his throat. “Come to my hotel. Or tell me where you are and I’ll meet you. We can work out a mutually beneficial agreement, okay?”
She shuddered as he inadvertently mimicked his grandmother, then gave herself a shake. He didn’t want kids, he wanted a fake fiancé. No need to make this worse than it already was.
She sighed heavily, leaning her forehead against the payphone box.
She was still trying to figure a way out when he said, “What number are you calling from? Is this your cell?”
“It’s a payphone. I don’t have a cell.”
There was a long, confused pause. “You don’t have a cell? Kindergartners have cellphones.”
She hung up on him.
She was just getting into her car when the payphone rang. She stared at it, then stomped back to answer it.
“What?”
“We could meet at your place but you’ve seen the vans. At least the hotel will keep the paparazzi away.”
She closed her eyes, sealing her fate. “Fine. I’ll come to you.”
“I’ll have some dinner waiting. What do you like?”
She looked at the phone in frustration. “This isn’t a date, Ethan.”
“No. It’s a business meeting in my hotel room at a time most people have dinner. We’ll eat and hammer out the terms.”
Her stomach squished at the thought of being alone with him in his hotel room.
“Don’t they have a restaurant at that fancy hotel of yours? Make a reservation.”
She could practically hear him shaking his head. “You know that’s not going to work. We can’t have someone overhearing this particular negotiation, can we? Besides, I get the impression you’re going to need to yell at me some more.”
She almost smiled. “You got that right.”
He said, “I’ll order something chocolate. That’ll help.”
She hung up on him again. He’d better have a lot of chocolate.
And back downtown she went. His suite was on the top floor of the hotel, of course. Nothing but the best for Mr. O’Connor.
She stood in front of the panoramic windows, staring out over the city. Lights glittered in the night and she watched the red and white stream of cars on the freeway below them.
Ethan walked up beside her. “It would’ve just gotten worse and worse with the tabloids. I have a lot of ex-girlfriends.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at the understatement and he flashed a wry grin at her before looking back over the city.
She said, “Have you ever thought of taking a break? Do you always need a girl on your arm?”
“I know this sounds conceited but a girlfriend is sometimes the only defense I have. Women just. . .”
“Throw themselves at you?”
He nodded and she rolled her eyes. “Have you ever considered just saying no?”
He turned toward her. “I don’t think you understand what it means to have someone throw themselves at you. Every time I step in an elevator, there’s a woman waiting for me. Every time I sit down at a restaurant, a woman slides in next to me. Numbers in pockets, whispered invitations. A simple ‘I’m a one-woman man’ saves face and ends the confrontation quickly.”
“Along with a smile and a ‘honey’.”
He smiled slightly. “I only call you honey.”
She didn’t know what to say to that and he laughed.
“Honey comes from bees and bees have stingers. No one has a bigger stinger than you.” He shrugged, still smiling. “It makes me laugh. And you don’t like it, which makes it even better.”
“Yeah, I can see how everyone is going to believe we’re madly in love.”
He took her hand. “We have something together. Heat. It may be antagonistic heat, but it’s there. Any idiot can see it. We were in the National Enquirer.”
She took her hand back and put it in her pocket. “My claim to fame.”
He looked out at the city and she silently watched him for a moment. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
He met her eyes and shook his head. “I know your weakness, Mackenzie. If I have to, I’ll pay the price.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And just what is my weakness?”
He grinned. “You like to win.”
“I thought you were going to say money.”
He shook his head. “Money is the trophy. But winning is what you want.”
“How in the world am I going to be a winner engaged to you? Do you know how many sales I’ve made since your little fiasco of a press conference? None. Do you know how many times I’ve heard ‘sleeping with the boss’ whispered? Twice.”
“I’m sorry for that. I