The Billionaire Bid

But the caller wasn’t her boss. The voice on the other end of the phone was one she’d heard just once before, but she recognized it instantly. It was rich, warm—and arrogant.

“You have quite a grip on the media, don’t you?” Dez accused. “Yesterday it was the newspaper, and today the TV station. What’s next—rallying your troops by satellite?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Gina protested, but she found herself talking to a dead line.

Though she wasn’t inclined to be sympathetic, she could understand why Dez Kerrigan was annoyed at being made to sound like a criminal. He’d asked for it, of course. More than ten years in the business of buying and selling property, of building and developing real estate, and he’d never saved a building? Still, she didn’t exactly blame him for being exasperated. She was sure he had his reasons for knocking down every building that passed through his hands—inadequate though the justification might sound to ordinary people. People like her.

Being made to sound like a criminal…

Now that, she mused, might just offer some real possibilities.

It was ten in the morning, exactly twenty-four hours since their encounter in the hotel ballroom, when Gina walked into Dez Kerrigan’s office.

It hadn’t been easy to find him. There was no Kerrigan listed in the telephone book—not that she’d expected his home number to be published. What she had expected to find was a Kerrigan Corporation or a Kerrigan Partners or a Kerrigan-something-else. But there was nothing like that either.

Of course, she reflected, the mere fact that a man hadn’t named his business after himself didn’t necessarily mean the business wasn’t a monument to his ego. Maybe he just liked being able to deny responsibility once in a while—and that would be harder to do with his name actually blazoned on every site he touched. Or perhaps he thought that the name had lost its impact, since it was now associated with everything from Kerrigan County itself to Kerrigan Hall over at the university, and a whole lot of stuff in between.

Eventually she located his business. He’d named it Lakemont Development, as if to say it was the only company in town that mattered. While she didn’t doubt that if Dez Kerrigan had his way, his fingerprints would be all over any significant building which took place in the city, Gina thought it was hardly a less egotistical choice than naming it after himself.

Even after she’d found his business, however, she still had a fair journey before finding Dez Kerrigan himself. Lakemont Development had offices spread all over the city, and she’d called each of them in turn, starting with the shiniest glass-and-steel tower in Lakemont and working her way down until finally a receptionist admitted, cautiously, that Mr. Kerrigan did indeed have an office in that particular building and that he was on the premises today.

Gina didn’t leave her name—she just went straight over. It was only a few blocks from the museum, but she’d never noticed the building before. And no wonder it hadn’t caught her eye, she thought as she approached. It looked like a converted school building—one that had been abandoned when the city’s population had shifted to the suburbs. Hardly the kind of place where she’d expect to find the headquarters of somebody who played with skyscraper towers as if they were building blocks.

Inside, the building was quietly bustling. She found her way down a long corridor to Dez Kerrigan’s office.

His secretary fingered Gina’s business card and looked at her doubtfully. Gina wasn’t surprised; the words “historical society” must be something of a red flag with any of Dez Kerrigan’s employees.

“I don’t have an appointment,” she admitted to the secretary. “But I imagine he’s been expecting me to drop in. You may have seen on the news last night that we’re negotiating a deal on the Tyler-Royale building.”

The secretary’s eyes widened, but she didn’t comment. She picked up the telephone, and Gina sat down in the nearest chair. She hoped she was making the point, as quietly and clearly as possible, that she wasn’t going to move until she’d seen the boss.

A few minutes later the door of Dez Kerrigan’s office opened. “Well, if it isn’t the media magnet in the flesh,” he said. “Come in.”

Gina put aside her magazine and took her time crossing the small waiting room to the inner office. He stepped back and gestured her inside with elaborate politeness.

He really was as tall as she’d thought, that day in The Maple Tree. At the press conference, she’d been too preoccupied to notice much, but now she remembered how far she’d had to look up into those odd hazel-green eyes. They didn’t look like emeralds today, she noted. That was all right—she wasn’t here to amuse him.

She paused just inside the door and looked around thoughtfully. “This isn’t anything like I expected.” The room was large—obviously it had once been a classroom—and the wall of windows and the neutral color scheme made it look larger yet. Nearly everything was various shades of gray—walls, carpet, sofa, window blinds. The desk looked like ebony. Only the art—mostly watercolors of buildings—added color. She waved a hand at a stylized drawing of a skyscraper. She recognized it—Lakemont Tower, one of the city’s newest and grandest. “That’s one of your projects, of course.”

He nodded.

“As towers go, it’s not bad. At least it has some class. But I expected you’d have your office there, with a gorgeous view over Lake Michigan.”

Dez shrugged. “This office was good enough for me when I started the company, and it’s still good enough. Besides, offices at the top of Lakemont Tower command a very high price. Why tie up the space myself when I can rent it out for good money?”

“Oh, yes,” Gina mused. “I remember now. You told the reporters yesterday that you’re the practical type.”

He frowned a little. “I didn’t realize you stayed around for the whole press conference.”

“I didn’t. But I watched the report on the late news, too. They had more footage from the press conference then, and there you were, big as life. ‘I’m a businessman,’” she quoted. “‘I’ll consider any reasonable option that’s presented to me.’”

“What about it? It’s not like I’m admitting to a secret vice. Look, it’s charming that you stopped by—it would have been even more charming if you’d brought a nice hazelnut coffee, but I won’t hold that against you this time. However, as much as I’d like to chat, I do have things to do today.”

Gina sat down on one end of the couch. “Of course you do. So I’ll come to the point. I have a reasonable option for you to consider.”

“Reasonable is a relative term. Unless you have the cash to buy me out—”

“No. I don’t.”

“Then please don’t waste my time lecturing me about why I should preserve the Tyler-Royale building. Obviously you didn’t hear the entire press conference or you’d know better than to try.”

“I don’t intend to do anything of the sort.” She crossed her legs just so, put her elbow on the arm of the couch, propped her chin against her hand, and smiled. “I’m here this morning to give you the chance to be a hero.”

Dez looked at her in disbelief. She was going to offer him a chance to be a hero? The woman had lost her mind. If she ever had one to begin with. “Ms. Haskell—” he began.

“Oh, call me Gina—please. I don’t blame you for being upset last night,” she went on with a sympathetic tone that was so palpably false that it made the air feel sticky.

“Upset?” he snorted. “I don’t get upset.”

“Really? Then why did you call me up and yell at me?”

Dez was honestly taken aback. “I didn’t yell at you.”

“Oh? I suppose that’s what you call calmly expressing an opinion?”

“It sure as hell is. I wasn’t yelling. I admit I was annoyed at the way that pack of jackals twisted my words, especially when I thought you might have fanned the flames, but—”

She nodded. “That’s what I said. You were…” It was obvious that she saw the expression on his face, for she broke off abruptly. “The news reports made you sound like King Kong, stomping around the city knocking down every building in sight. Of course you were put out by such unfair reporting.”

“Lady, if I got upset every time a bunch of reporters took after me, I’d be living on antacids.” He threw himself down on the opposite end of the couch from her. “Now what’s this about you making me a hero?”

“It won’t be my doing, really. I’m just here to show you the way.”

She shifted around to face him, and her skirt slid up an inch, showing off a silky, slim knee. The maneuver didn’t look practiced, but that only demonstrated how smooth an operator she was. “You’ve got about two minutes before I throw you out,” Dez warned.

“Very well.” With an unhurried air, she consulted her wristwatch, then settled herself more comfortably on the couch. “The media seems to have decided that you’re public enemy number one. And you must admit that you’ve played right into their hands. Really—after all these years, and after all the projects you’ve been involved in, you’ve never yet found yourself owning a building that was worth saving?” She shook her head in apparent disbelief.

“Only this one.”

She looked around the room. “And it’s starting to get some age on it. Be careful, or one of these days you’ll find yourself preserving a historic structure in spite of yourself.”

“There’s nothing historic about this building, and I’ll keep it for exactly as long as it suits my purpose. Look, sweetheart, if you think I’m going to let the opinions of a few reporters keep me awake nights, you’re wrong. They’ll forget about saving the Tyler-Royale store just as soon as another story catches their interest. This will pass—it always does.”

She kept smiling. “Sure about that, are you?”

The fact that her voice was practically dripping honey didn’t lessen the threat that lay underneath the words. The antacids were starting to sound like a good idea after all.

“But why make it hard on yourself?” she went on. “You already own eight square blocks of downtown Lakemont. Or maybe it’s even more than that—those were just the properties I found listed in a quick search at the county assessor’s office this morning.”