Barbara Dunlop - The Billionaire’s Bidding

He stripped off his shirt, stepped out of his sandals to head across the deck.

Mrs. Nash followed on his heels. “A marriage of convenience, Mr. Garrison?”

“Yes, Mrs. Nash. A marriage of convenience.” It wasn’t like he was breaking the law.

“Well, we both know where that leads.”

“To profitability and an increase in our capital asset base?”

“To misery and a cold, lonely death.”

A stillness took over Alex’s body. He hooked his toes over the edge and gazed into the still, clear water. “I am not my father.”

“You are more like him than you care to admit.”

“I’m nothing like him.”

She clicked her teeth, and he could feel her shaking her head.

“I know what I’m doing, Mrs. Nash.”

“Due respect, Mr. Garrison. You haven’t a bloody clue.”

Yeah. That was respectful all right. Alex tamped down the urge to engage in the debate. He was out of patience, and he was out of time. He drew a strangled breath, tensed his calf muscles and dove into the pool.

It was three minutes past eight by the time Alex found a parking spot and strode up the wide staircase into the DreamLodge headquarters lobby. The airy, open room was impressive-quiet, understated and classy. But then Clive Murdoch hadn’t built his empire on stupidity and poor taste. He was Alex’s number one competitor for good reason. The man wasn’t to be taken lightly.

Briefcase in hand, power suit freshly pressed, and his hair trimmed right to his collar, Alex scanned the floor directory next to a bank of elevators. The executive suite was on number thirty-eight.

He pressed a button and one of the doors immediately slid open.

The ride up was direct and smooth. And on the top floor, he emerged and introduced himself to the receptionist, hoping name recognition would get him in to see Clive Murdoch without an appointment.

“I’ll see if he’s free, Mr. Garrison.” The young woman smiled behind a discreet headset and punched a number on her phone.

“Alex?” The sound of another woman’s voice sent a ripple of warning up his spine.

He quickly blinked the surprise from his expression and turned to face Emma. Then he took a few steps forward to put some distance between them and the receptionist. “Emma,” he crooned. “Right on time, I see.”

“What are you-”

“I was worried you’d be late, sweetheart.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead, while his mind scrambled for a contingency plan.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“What are you doing here?” he returned. “And why aren’t you wearing your ring?” A good offense? It might work. He sure hadn’t come up with any better ideas in the past fifteen seconds.

“I have an appointment,” she said.

“So I heard,” he bluffed.

“Heard from who?”

He quickly grabbed an answer for that one. “The hotel business is a tight-knit community.”

She frowned. “It is not.”

“Yes, it is.” He frowned back at her, pretending he had a right to be annoyed. “I can’t believe you’d book a meeting with Murdoch without me.”

And, quite frankly, he couldn’t believe she’d agree to meet Murdoch on his own turf for a negotiation. Didn’t she understand the home court advantage?

“It’s still my company,” she said.

“And I’m a player in it. Where’s your ring?”

She curled her left hand and tucked it behind her. “We haven’t signed a thing.”

They’d talk about the ring later. He had a lot to say about the damn ring. “You said yes in front of five hundred people.”

Her complexion darkened a shade. “And we are definitely talking about that one later.”

He should hate it when she used that tone of voice. But he didn’t. It energized him instead of annoying him. It made him look forward to later.

“Fine,” he said, keeping his tone deliberately flat. “But for now we have a meeting.”

“I have a meeting.”

He gave her a cold smile. “Sweetheart, your last solo business meeting was yesterday.”

“Why, you-”

He cut her off with a quick kiss on her taut, tender lips. Then he drew back and dared her with his eyes, all the while raising his voice so the receptionist would hear. “Don’t worry about it. We can pick up the ring after lunch.”

“I’m going to kill you,” she muttered under her breath.

“Later,” he whispered. “After you give me hell for proposing to you.” Then he took her hand and turned to the friendly receptionist. “Is Mr. Murdoch ready to see us?”

Emma couldn’t believe Alex had crashed her business meeting. How had he found her? How had he even known to look for her? And didn’t he have his own business to run on a Monday morning?

She felt like a fool traipsing into Clive Murdoch’s office half a step behind him. She looked like a fool, too, if Clive’s expression was anything to go by. He’d called last week to say he’d been working on a deal with her father. He wondered if she’d be taking over from here on in.

She’d said, “absolutely.” She’d said she was at the helm, making decisions, running the company. And here Alex had cut her off at the knees.

“Clive,” Alex greeted brusquely, sticking out his hand.

“Alex.” Clive nodded, offering a guarded handshake.

He looked to Emma. “Ms. McKinley?”

“Soon to be Mrs. Garrison,” said Alex, a definite edge of aggression in his tone.

Emma shot him a glare. What did he think he was doing?

“Good news travels fast,” said Clive.

Alex pulled out a chair at the round meeting table, gesturing for Emma to sit in it.

She thought about rebuffing his offer, but his expression wasn’t one to mess with. So she took the chair. She’d set him straight on business protocol later.

“Yet,” said Alex, still standing, that same thread of steel in his tone. “You made an appointment with my fiancée anyway.”

“Alex,” Emma interrupted.

“I made the appointment last week,” said Clive. His shoulders were tense, his voice hard-edged.

“Things have changed since last week,” said Alex.

“Mr. Murdoch,” said Emma, trying to calm things down.

“Call me Clive,” said Clive.

“Don’t,” said Alex.

Emma stared at him in total shock. “Will you stop this?” Then she looked at Clive. “We’re here to listen.”

Alex’s hands closed over the back of one of the chairs. “We’re here to make a point.”

She glared at Alex. “You don’t even know-”

“McKinley assets are not for sale. Not now. Not ever. None of them.”

For sale? Clive hadn’t said anything about a sale.

“You haven’t even heard my offer,” Clive stated, the word sale obviously no surprise to him.

Emma stilled. How had Alex known they were talking about a sale? She hadn’t even known they were talking about a sale.

“We don’t need to hear your offer,” said Alex. Then he reached out a hand to Emma. “In fact, we don’t need to be here at all.”

Emma glanced back and forth between the two men as they stared each other down. What had she missed? What did Clive want to buy? Why wouldn’t Alex consider it?

“Can somebody please-”

“I’m your contact,” Alex informed Clive, tossing a business card on the table. “You think you have any more business with McKinley, you call me.”

Clive didn’t touch the card. “You walk out that door, the offer’s closed.”

Alex shrugged, and it occurred to Emma he might be negotiating. Was this how it was normally done? Did he expect Clive to follow them to the lobby and up the ante?

Clive smirked. “The offer was way above market.”

“It was chump change, and we both know it.”

Wow. Emma could never have been that gutsy. She did wish she knew what they were talking about, but it seemed to make the most sense to play along.

She took Alex’s hand, and they left the office.

“What now?” she asked as they waited for the elevator.

Alex glanced down at her. “Now, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “So, will he follow us?”

Alex looked behind them. “I doubt it.”

“But…”

“But what?”

The elevator door slid open.

“I thought he’d follow us out and up the offer.”

Alex gestured for her to precede him. “He didn’t make an offer.”

“But he was going to.”

Alex trapped the elevator door to keep it from closing. “Yes, he was going to.”

The truth dawned on Emma. “We really walked away without even hearing what it was?” What kind of a way was that to conduct business?

“Of course we walked away. Get on.”

“But maybe it was-”

Alex leaned in, lowering his voice. “Stop talking and get in the elevator.”

Emma hesitated. Then her glance slid over to the receptionist. Right. This argument was unseemly. But what on earth was Alex thinking?

She lifted her chin and marched inside, gritting her teeth until the door closed. “Maybe it was good,” she shouted. “Maybe it was fantastic.”

Alex gave a dry chuckle. “Which do you think is more likely, Emma? That Clive Murdoch got rich by benevolently paying more than market price for hotels, or that Clive Murdoch is a shrewd old man looking to take advantage of your inexperience.”

She glared at Alex. “Guess we’ll have to tell him to get in line for that one, won’t we?”

A muscle near his temple ticked for a moment. “I’m not old. And I’m not taking advantage of you, Emma. I’m saving you from bankruptcy.”

“Benevolently, I’m sure,” she returned with syrupy sweetness. “And with no thought whatsoever for your own welfare.”

“You knew the score from minute one.”

The elevator pinged and the door glided open.

“How do I know you’re not taking advantage of my inexperience?” she pressed. “And, by the way, that was insulting. I’ve been in the hotel business my entire life. I’ve done everything from tend bar to renovate a ski resort.”

“That’s your credential? Tending bar?”

“Most recently, I was the vice president of North American operations. I’m not some naive newbie.”

“Yeah?” he challenged as they started across the lobby. “Then why did you agree to meet Murdoch in his office?”

Emma didn’t get the point of the question. “Because it was Mr. Murdoch I was meeting with.”

Alex pushed open the double glass doors. The temperature went up twenty degrees while car horns and tire screeches replaced the echoing quiet of the lobby. “You should have had him come to you.”

“What difference would that make?”

They dodged other pedestrians as they made their way down the stairs.

“Tactical advantage.” Alex’s lips quirked in a grin. “Newbie mistake. Good thing I was there to rescue you.”

“You didn’t even let him make the offer.”

“The offer sucked, Emma. I brought a car. Just across the street.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No-I’m pretty sure I brought a car. That blue Lexus over there, under the red sign.”

“You don’t know the offer sucked.”

Alex stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face her. “I knew about your meeting. I knew he wanted to buy. I knew how to shut him down. Don’t you think there’s maybe a slim possibility that I know the market value of a hotel?”

“Not half high on yourself, are you?” As soon as the sarcastic words were out, Emma regretted them.

Alex had made a fair point.

She’d been out to prove herself on this deal with Murdoch. She’d even gone so far as to secretly hope that whatever he had in mind would save McKinley Inns, so that she wouldn’t have to give half of the company to Alex, and she could avoid going through with this farce of a wedding.

But Murdoch hadn’t wanted to make a business deal beneficial to McKinley. He’d simply wanted to make a purchase. He’d been looking for a bargain.

Not that she’d ever admit any of it to Alex. He had enough of an advantage over her already.

“Like I said before,” Alex interrupted her thoughts. “There’s somebody I want you to meet.”

“Your lawyer?” Now that the engagement was out of the way, the prenup was next on the list.

“No. Not my lawyer. My housekeeper.”

For a man with a reputation as a cold-blooded hard case, Alex sure had a soft spot for his housekeeper. Oh, he tried to hide it. But it was there in the inflection of his voice as they came down his long driveway in Oyster Bay.

“She can be irritable at times, and she’s as judgmental as anyone I’ve ever met. But she’s been with the family since before I was born, so I try to humor her.”

“Because she scares the life out of you,” Emma guessed.

Alex hesitated just a shade too long. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

They drove beneath spreading oaks and past fine-trimmed lawns. The last time Emma had come to the Garrison estate, she’d been focused on the upcoming conversation with Alex. This time she paid more attention to the landscaping, doing a double take as they passed a magnificent rose garden.