Sleeping With Her Rival

Maria moved away from the window. “I’m sorry, Gina. I know this isn’t easy on you.”

Rita, seated in one of the overstuffed chairs, tucked her legs beneath her. She still wore her uniform, but she’d removed the white, crepe-soled shoes. “There has to be a solution.”

“Yes, but what?” Gina asked. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to restore Baronessa’s reputation, but I can’t stand the thought of snuggling up to that macho, arrogant man.” She dragged a hand through her hair, tugging her fingers through the loosened, unruly curls. “He doesn’t think I can dazzle the media on my own. He thinks I need him to coach me.”

“Then prove him wrong,” Maria suggested. “Show him that you can handle the press.”

Rita perked up. “That’s a great idea. After all, Gina, you have your own brand of charm. There’s nothing wrong with your image.”

“That’s right.” Maria sent her a warm smile. “You’re a beautiful, powerful, successful woman. What can a spin doctor teach you that you don’t already know?”

“Nothing,” Gina said, her confidence budding. But she could teach Flint Kingman plenty.

After an exhausting ten hours at the office, Flint unlocked his front door, then dropped his keys and spewed a vile curse.

His day had gone from bad to worse, and it was all Gina’s fault.

How could she have turned him down? His plan was brilliant. But she was too stubborn to admit it, to thank him the way she should have. He wasn’t just offering to repair the damage at Baronessa, he was offering to glamorize her image.

What female in her right mind wouldn’t want that?

Didn’t she know whom she was dealing with? Flint was an expert. Even his house was a work of art, a renovation with bold lines and stunning curves.

He glanced around, proud of the changes he’d made. His entryway featured hardwood floors instead of cool, marble tiles, and a fluid archway led to a collection of carefully chosen antiques, erotic paintings and a spiral staircase as smooth and sleek as a woman’s body. He liked to run his hands along the banister, to feel the architectural beauty it possessed.

After all, he thought, everything, even inanimate objects, represented life.

Suddenly craving a warm shower and a cold beer, he headed to a large, custom-designed kitchen, grabbed a long-neck bottle and started stripping off his clothes.

By the time he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, he’d left a careless stream of garments strewn along the way.

Standing beside the bed in a pair of pin-striped boxers, he twisted the cap on the beer and took a swig.

And then the damned phone rang.

Still feeling surly about Gina walking out on him, he grabbed the receiver. “What?” he said in place of a proper hello.

“It’s me,” a feminine voice announced.

“Who’s me?” he asked, even though he knew it was the ice princess herself.

“It’s Gina. And I changed my mind.”

“Did you, now?”

“Yes, I did. After all, it is a woman’s prerogative.”

“So you’ll have that phony affair with me?”

“Yes,” she said primly. “But I won’t allow you to alter my image.”

He glared at the phone for a second. She would take his advice whether she liked it or not. But he wasn’t about to argue the point. For now he would let her think she’d won. “Fine, but you can’t back out if things get a little rough. So you better be damned sure you’re committed to this project.”

“I intend to combat the trouble at Baronessa,” she retorted. “Even if it means faking a relationship with you.”