The Billionaire Bid

He had to hand it to her; she’d done her homework.

“To a tycoon, what’s one block more or less?” she went on. “The media have adopted the Tyler-Royale building as their darling. If you save it, you’ll be—”

“Lakemont’s own superhero,” he mused. “If you asked me, I’d say you’ve been reading too many comic books. Just for the sake of argument, exactly what kind of plan do you have in mind for saving the building? I suppose you want me to just hand it over to you?”

“Well, not to me personally, of course. But just think how marvelous you’d look if you gave it to the Kerrigan County Historical Society.”

“Well, if all the goodwill in the world was resting on it, I couldn’t do that. Remember? I don’t own the building. I suppose I could give you the option to buy it, if I happened to be in the mood to donate something that cost me a couple of hundred thousand dollars, but what good would that do? You told me a few minutes ago you don’t have any money. An option to buy is worthless if you don’t have the cash to exercise it.”

“I’m sure you could help me encourage your friend the CEO to donate the building. It’s not as if he wouldn’t be getting anything out of the deal, after all—”

“Now you’re onto something,” Dez pointed out. “He’d still have my two hundred grand, so he’d be happy. You’d have the building, so you’d be happy. And I’d be left holding the bag. Unfortunately for your argument, that doesn’t make me look heroic. It makes me look stupid.”

“Generous,” she corrected gently. “Of course, you’d also be getting a nice tax deduction.”

He couldn’t help but be impressed. There weren’t many people who could be on the receiving end as he demolished their line of reasoning and still keep smiling like that. He wasn’t sure if it was naiveté or chutzpah she was displaying, but she hadn’t wilted, and that was saying something.

“And,” she went on smoothly, “you really shouldn’t underestimate the value of improving your reputation.”

“By all means, I won’t underestimate it. Doing something like that would land me on the hit list of every fund-raiser and con artist in this corner of the state. You know, it would serve you right if I did hand over the option and convince Ross to sell you the building for a dollar or two. Have you actually looked at that store?”

For the first time, uncertainty flickered in her face, though she tried to mask it quickly. “Not lately,” she admitted.

“Well, you are in for a treat.” He jumped up and pulled open the office door. “Sarah, if anybody comes looking for me, just tell them that I took Ms. Haskell for a walk.”

It was only a few blocks from Dez’s office to the Tyler-Royale store, and his long legs ate up the distance. “Taking me for a run is more like it,” Gina said, sounding breathless.

He looked disparagingly down at the strappy sandals she wore. “If you’d choose some sensible shoes, you wouldn’t have so much trouble keeping up.”

“And if you weren’t so tall…” She stopped dead on the sidewalk in front of the main doors, looking up, and a large woman who was carrying a stack of boxes and half a dozen loaded shopping bags almost mowed her down.

Dez pulled her out of the line of traffic just in time and followed her gaze as she surveyed the front facade of the building. “What’s the matter, Gina?” he hazarded. “Is it a little larger than you remembered?”

“I was just thinking it looks too busy for a store that should be closing.”

Sure she was. He’d seen the way her eyes had widened as she’d taken in the sheer size of the place. But he’d play along—for a while—and let her save face.

Besides, she was right about the store being busy. People were streaming into and out of every entrance. Dez shrugged. “That happens all the time. People only realize what they have when they’re told it’s going to disappear. There will be a last burst of interest, and then everybody will forget about it and move on to the next store. By this time next year, if you stand on this corner and ask people what used to be here, only about half of them would even be able to tell you.”

“Especially if what’s here in a year is only an empty hole.”

He shot a suspicious look at her, but she returned it blandly.

“Come on,” Dez said. He gave the revolving door a push for her.

Just inside, a woman in a dark suit was offering samples of perfume. Gina paused and held out her wrist. Dez suspected she did it more to annoy him than because she wanted to try the scent. “The shoe department’s just over there if you want to take a look,” he suggested.

She sniffed delicately at the perfumed pulse point. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t dream of taking up your valuable time with shoes. Or perhaps I should say I wouldn’t follow your advice anyway, so I’d rather not have to listen to it.”

He ushered her between the makeup counters, past fine jewelry and antique silver, to the atrium lobby. The floor was tiled in a brilliantly-colored mosaic, spirals and scallops swooping in an intricate pattern. At the center the tiny tiles formed a stylized red rose, the symbol of the department store chain. Dez led her to the heart of the rose. “Stand right here,” he said.

“What’s the big deal? Everybody in Lakemont has done this a million times. ‘Meet me on the rose’ is part of the vernacular.”

“I know, I know. My mother made me report here, too. But that’s not why I brought you. Look up.”

For an instant he caught an odd expression in her eyes, something that looked almost like pain. What had he said to cause that reaction? Then she followed instructions, raising her eyes to the stained-glass dome seven stories above their heads.

If that didn’t make her see the light, Dez thought, nothing would. He’d almost forgotten himself how immense the building was, how the rows of white-painted iron balconies seemed to go on forever, up seven floors and out for what seemed miles.

She turned back to Dez. “And the point you’re trying to make is…?”

The nonchalant tone didn’t fool him. “The point is that even if you got this building for free, you couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t afford to keep the lights on, much less heat and cool it.”

“It’s a little bigger than what we have now, of course,” Gina conceded.

Dez stared at her for a minute, and then he started to laugh. “Oh, that’s rich! It’s like saying that Lake Michigan is a little bigger than the puddle you stepped over at the curb on our way inside.”

“And it’s a well-known phenomenon that when a museum expands, not only the number of visitors increases but donations do as well.”

“In your dreams.” He extended an index finger upward and drew an imaginary circle that took in the whole building. “Get real, Gina. Give it up. Maybe there’s another building somewhere that would actually be practical.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand, do you? Another building might be more practical, but this is the one that’s captured people’s hearts. This is the one that has aroused their feelings.”

Foreboding trickled through his veins.

“I’d be a fool to give up on this,” she said, as if she savored the words.

Not as much of a fool as if you hang on to it, he wanted to say.

“It’s a cause, you see—almost a crusade. It’s already building momentum.” She had the nerve to smile at him, as she added sweetly, “And all I have to do is feed it a little.”

CHAPTER THREE

DEZ stared at her for so long that Gina thought perhaps he’d gone into a catatonic state. But even when he finally blinked and shook his head as if he was trying to clear it, he didn’t say anything to her. Instead, he pulled his cell phone off his belt and without looking at it punched two keys. “Sarah, cancel my lunch meeting.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Come on. Let’s find a place where we can sit down and talk sense for a change.”

Gina shook her head. “No, really,” she said. She tried very hard not to let irony seep into her voice, and she almost succeeded. “You mustn’t put yourself out for my sake. It’s quite useless to try to convince me.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about. If you were the only one who’d be affected by this idiotic idea, I’d stand by and watch while you walked out in front of the freight train.”

Well, that was brutally frank, Gina thought. “Thank you.”

He frowned. “For what?”

“Confirming my suspicions that you’re not nearly as unconcerned about your public image as you pretend to be.”

“You think this is about my image?” He made a sound that could charitably have been called a snort. “The tearoom on the sixth floor is probably the quietest place in the building at this hour.”

“And I seem to recall they have hazelnut coffee,” Gina murmured.