Tycoon For Auction

She glanced up, obviously startled. “Ego problems?”

“Do you think I’m that shallow?”

“Yes,” she said.

He laughed. There was a part of him that was shallow, and he did his best to make sure that was the only thing people saw.

“Maybe I just wanted to hold you for the three minutes or so that the song lasts.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s the truth.” God, he wished it weren’t, but his body had already decided that there was no way Corrine was going to be a hands-off client. She called to parts of him that he’d put away a long time ago. Nothing was going to be normal until he’d mussed up her cool exterior. Until he had her blond hair spread out on his pillow and was buried deep in her sweet body with her legs and arms wrapped around him.

“We have a working relationship, Rand. It can’t be anything else.”

“I’m aware of that,” he said. He’d been working with Corrine on the new training module he and Corrine were developing at Tarron.

“Why’d you bid on me tonight?” he asked. It was out of character for the woman he knew her to be. She’d given not only him but most of her co-workers the cold shoulder. She was cordial and polite, but she kept a distance between herself and others. The only person he knew who’d gotten past her barrier was Angelica. But then, Angelica had a way with people.

“You looked lonely up there.”

He stopped dancing and glanced down at her. This was the second time she’d sassed him tonight. “Are you saying pity motivated you?”

“Well…yes.”

“Darling, I seem to remember a brisk bidding before you finally won me.”

“Cling to that memory,” she said with a laugh.

He joined her, even though she was having fun at his expense. There was something warm and almost adorable in her eyes that made him want to protect her. Much the same as he’d wanted to earlier when he’d realized she was trapped on the dance floor. But he’d never been anyone’s protector except Angelica’s. And she’d been safe because Rand couldn’t really fall in love with her. And he’d been doing it to pay back a debt. Business was the one thing he’d always been good at.

He was a loner by nature and he didn’t want to get too involved with Corrine. He let his arms drop, and the music ended a second later. There was confusion in her eyes. He knew he had to get away before he gave in to the temptation to take everything she had to offer. Because the woman he’d just held had a softness that she didn’t usually let the world see.

And that softness called to everything masculine in him. Made his chest swell and his muscles flex. It made him want to defend and protect her from everyone except himself. And Rand Pearson was no woman’s hero.

He’d learned that the hard way.

He pivoted to leave.

“Is this payback?” she asked.

He stopped and took her elbow to escort her off the dance floor. He’d never forgotten his manners before. He prided himself on always being a gentleman. Something his parents had instilled in him since he’d first known the difference between boys and girls.

He stopped at the edge of the dance floor and turned to thank her for the dance. But those gray eyes of hers made the words die unsaid.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

He walked away from her, knowing that he was going to need more than the words “never let the client get personal” help him this time. Because there was something about Corrine Martin that made him want to forget rules and lessons learned in life. And he was old enough to know better.

Two

Corrine neatly managed to avoid spending time with Rand until her first official date. She’d even corresponded with him through e-mail instead of calling him. His last e-mail had been brief to the point of seeming curt, but that didn’t bother her. She regretted the impulse that had led her to bid on him and wished that she had some way to go back in time and change things. Although she knew that time travel didn’t exist, she wished she could go further back than Rand Pearson’s appearance in her life and make some huge alterations.

Today was a sunny Saturday in March, and Paul Sterling, Tarron’s CEO, was having his annual staff party on his yacht moored in West Palm Beach. It was a two-hour drive from Orlando and Rand was picking her up.

She’d suggested meeting him there, but he’d sent back a reply saying only that he’d pick her up at ten. He pulled up at five till, and as he climbed out of his car and came toward her front door she wished again she’d never bid on him. Her pulse hammered, and everything feminine in her came to life.

She didn’t have time for this. She’d wanted to have an escort to social functions because she always seemed to be the only one alone. And it made her stand out. She hated to have attention drawn to her. She liked blending in with the background.

She knew there was no way she was going to survive the two-hour drive down the coast unless she had a distraction. The doorbell rang and she glanced frantically around her neat house. Spotting her laptop in the corner she grabbed it and her leather carryall and headed for the door. Work had been her salvation since she was fourteen. She realized early that at work it didn’t matter where you came from, only how well you did the job.

She shoved her Ann Taylor sunglasses up her nose and opened the door. The classic designer appealed to Corrine. Rand was leaning negligently against the porch railing, staring out at the street. She lived on Kaley, in one of Orlando’s older sections. Her home had been built in the fifties and required lots of care, but she loved it.

“Nice neighborhood,” he said, glancing up and down the street, which wasn’t too busy this Saturday morning.

“Thanks. Ready to go?” she asked, not wanting to encourage him to be nice to her. The other night had shown her that he’d slipped between her defenses and that was something she refused to let happen again.

“What, no tour?”

“Not today. I don’t want to be late.”

“We won’t be. We’ve got five minutes to spare.”

“Traffic could be heavy. I don’t share your confidence.”

“Want to bet on it?” he asked.

She knew from Angelica that Rand would bet on anything. And he usually won. She’d never gambled in her entire life. Not even on the twice-weekly Florida lottery. She preferred the safety of investing her money over the risk of losing a dollar to a chance of becoming a millionaire. “No.”

“Scared?” His eyebrow rose behind his sunglasses.

“Of a bet with you? I don’t think so.”

“Then, why not?”

There was only way to beat this man, she thought. And that was with wit, because he was too smart and confident for his own good. “You don’t really have anything I want.”

He pulled his glasses down to the tip of his nose and regarded her over the top of the lenses. “Really?”

“Really,” she said.

“I’ll take that as a challenge.”

She pushed her glasses back on her head and gave him her haughtiest stare. The one that made people back off. “Will your swelled head fit in the car?”

“No problem. The car is a convertible. I’ll put the top down if need be.”

She laughed and closed her door, locking it behind her.