Two
T heron sat back in his chair and surveyed the skyline of the city from his window. After a busy morning of meetings and phone calls, he actually had a few minutes to breathe. He glanced at his watch and grimaced as he remembered that Isabella Caplan was due in a few minutes.
He felt like a revolving door. Isabella was in, and then she’d depart for Europe, while Alannis would be arriving in a week’s time from Greece. Thankfully he’d be rid of his obligation to Isabella in short order. He’d make sure she was adequately provided for, arrange for someone from Anetakis International to meet her in London and have a security team see to her safety for the duration of her stay.
Alannis, on the other hand…He smiled ruefully. She was his own doing. He and Alannis had what could only be considered a close friendship. Perhaps an understanding was a better term, though he was open to the relationship growing into more. He knew he needed to settle down now that he was taking over the New York office. It was something he’d discussed candidly with Alannis a few weeks before.
They’d make a good couple. They understood each other. She was from a solid Greek family, old friends of his father’s. Her own father owned a shipping company. They were well matched, and so it stood to reason that they’d gravitate toward each other.
She’d give him friendship and children. He’d give her security, protection.
Yes, it was time to settle down. His move to New York was in all likelihood permanent, as Marley had no desire to move from the island where she and Chrysander had made their home. And if he was going to be living here on a permanent basis, it seemed the best course to find a wife and start his family.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. He frowned and looked up as he uttered the command to enter.
“Sir, Ms. Caplan is here to see you,” Madeline, his secretary, said as she poked her head in the door.
“Send her in,” he said brusquely.
As he waited, he straightened in his seat and drummed his fingers idly on the desk. He tried to draw on his vague memories of the girl but all he could picture was a very young Isabella with big eyes, gangly legs and braces. He wasn’t even sure how old she was now, only that she’d graduated. Wouldn’t that make her somewhere around twenty-two?
He summoned a gentle smile as the door swung open. No need to scare her to death. He was on his feet and walking forward to greet her when he pulled up short, all the breath knocked squarely from his chest.
Before him stood not a girl, but a stunningly beautiful woman. An invisible hand seized his throat, squeezing until he twisted his neck to alleviate the discomfort.
She smiled tentatively at him, and he felt the gesture to his toes. For a long moment, all he could do was gawk like a pimply-faced teenager experiencing his first surge of hormones.
Isabella was dressed in formfitting jeans that slung low on her hips. Her top, if you could call it an actual top, hugged her generous curves as snugly as a man’s hands. The hem fell to just above her navel, and that, coupled with the low-slung jeans, bared her navel to his view.
His gaze was drawn to it and the glimmer of silver in the shallow indention. He frowned. She had a belly ring?
He looked up, embarrassed to be caught staring, but then he locked eyes with hers. Long, dark hair fell in layers beyond her shoulders. Long lashes fringed sparkling green eyes. A hint of a smile curved plump, generous lips and white teeth flashed in his vision. Two dimples appeared in her cheeks as her smile broadened.
This was not a woman who could ever escape notice. The past several years had wrought big changes. To think he’d remembered her as someone who faded into the background wherever she was. A man would have to be blind, deaf and dumb to overlook her in a room.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he demanded before he could think better of it.
She raised one dark brow, amusement twinkling in her eyes. Then she glanced down as she smoothed her hands over her hips.
“I believe they’re called clothes,” she said huskily.
He frowned harder at the playfulness he heard in her voice. “Is this the sort of thing Chrysander allowed you to run around in?”
She chuckled, and the sound skittered across his nape, raising hairs in its wake. It was warm and vibrant, and he derived so much pleasure from it that he wanted her to laugh again.
“Chrysander has no say in what I wear.”
“He is—was your guardian,” Theron said. “As I am now.”
“Not legally,” she countered. “You’re doing a favor for my father, and you’re the executor of his estate as it pertains to me until I marry, but you’re hardly my guardian. I’ve managed quite well on my own with minimal interference from Chrysander.”
Theron leaned back against his desk as he studied the young woman standing so confidently in front of him. “Marry? The terms of your father’s will is that you gain control of your inheritance when you turn twenty-five.”
“Or I marry,” she gently corrected. “I plan to be married before then.”
Alarm took hold of Theron as he contemplated all sorts of nasty scenarios.
“Who is he?” he demanded. “I’ll want to have him fully investigated. You can’t be too careful in your position. Your inheritance will draw a host of unwanted suitors who only want you for your money.”
Another smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. “It’s nice to see you again, too, Theron. My trip was fine. The suite is lovely. It’s been awhile since I last saw you, but I’d recognize you anywhere.”
Her reproach irritated him because she was exactly right. He was being rude. He hadn’t even properly greeted her.
“My apologies, Isabella,” he said as he moved forward. He grasped her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her on either cheek. “I’m glad to hear your trip was satisfactory and that the suite is to your liking. May I get you something to drink while we discuss your travel arrangements?”
She smiled and shook her head, and then moved past him toward the window. Her h*ps swayed, and her bottom, cupped by the too-tight denim bobbed enticingly. He sent his gaze upward so that he wasn’t ogling her inappropriately.
It was then that a flash of color at her waist stopped him. He blinked and looked again, certain he had to be mistaken. As she stopped at the window, the hem of her shirt moved so that a tiny portion of what looked to be a tattoo peeked from between her jeans and her shirt.
His gaze was riveted as he strained to see what the design was. Then he scowled. A tattoo? Obviously Chrysander had failed miserably in his role as her guardian. What the hell kind of trouble had she gotten herself into? Tattoos? Talk of marriage?
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt the beginnings of a headache.
“You have a wonderful view,” she said as she turned from the window to look at him.
He cleared his throat and sent his gaze to her face. Anywhere but at the br**sts hugged tight by the thin T-shirt. Theos, but the woman was a walking time bomb.
“Have you already made all the arrangements for your trip to Europe or would you prefer for me to see to them?” he asked politely.
She shoved her fingers into her jeans pockets, a feat he wasn’t certain how she managed, and leaned against the window.
“I’m not going to Europe.”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
She smiled again, the dimples deepening. “I’ve decided not to travel to Europe for the summer.”
He put a hand to his forehead and massaged the tension. Damn Chrysander for getting a life and saddling him with Isabella Caplan.
“Does this have anything to do with your sudden desire for marriage?” he asked tiredly. “You still haven’t answered my question about the intended groom.”
“That’s because there isn’t one yet,” she said mischievously. “I never said that I had a man lined out yet, just that I intended to be married before I turned twenty-five. As that gives me three more years, there certainly isn’t a need to start ordering background checks.”
“Then why aren’t you going to Europe? It was your plan at least a week ago according to the letter you sent to Chrysander.”
“I sent Chrysander no such thing,” she protested lightly. “The man Chrysander hired to oversee my education and my living arrangements informed Chrysander of my trip to Europe. I simply changed my mind.”
His hand slipped to the back of his neck as a full-blown migraine threatened to bloom.
“So what do you intend to do then?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer.
She smiled broadly, her entire face lighting up. “I’m getting an apartment here in the city.”
Theron choked. Then he closed his eyes as he felt the cinch draw tighter around his neck. If she stayed here, then he would be stuck overseeing her affairs, checking up on her constantly.
Suddenly her impending marriage didn’t strike such a chord of irritation. She was twenty-two. True, it was young to marry these days, but certainly not outside the realm of possibility. Perhaps the best thing he could do for her was to introduce her to a man well equipped to provide security and stability for her.
The thought was already turning in his head, gaining momentum, when she spoke again.
“I’m sorry?” he said when he realized he had no idea what she’d said to him.
“Oh, I only said now that we’ve gotten my arrangements out of the way, I need to be going. I have an apartment to find.”
Alarm bells rang at the idea of Isabella traipsing around a city she wasn’t intimately familiar with, alone and vulnerable. Hell, she could wind up in an entirely unsuitable neighborhood. And then there was the matter of her security. Now that she was going to be here and not in Europe, he’d have to scramble to get a team in place. The last thing he needed was for her to be abducted as Marley had been.
“I don’t think this is something you should do alone,” he said firmly.
Her expression brightened. “That’s so sweet of you to offer to go apartment hunting with me. I admit, I wasn’t looking forward to it on my own, and your knowledge of the city is so much better than mine.”
He opened his mouth to refute the idea that he’d volunteered anything, but the genuine appreciation on her face made him snap his lips shut. He let out a sigh, knowing he was well and truly screwed.
“Of course I’ll accompany you. I won’t have you staying just anywhere. I’ll have my secretary come up with a few suitable places for you to view and then we’ll go. Perhaps tomorrow morning? You’re welcome to stay in the suite for as long as you need it.”
She frowned. “But I hate to put you out.”
He shook his head. “It’s no bother. Chrysander still has a penthouse here that I can use. I need to be looking for a place as well now that I’ve permanently relocated here.”
Her eyes sparked briefly, but then her expression faded to one of neutrality.
“In that case, I appreciate the offer, and I’d love to go apartment hunting with you tomorrow. Shall we do lunch as well?” she asked innocently.
“Of course I’ll feed you,” he said with a grunt. Why did he feel as though he’d been run over by a steamroller? The idea that this mere slip of a girl had run so roughshod over him left him irritated and feeling like he’d been manipulated, but there was nothing but genuine appreciation and relief in her expression.
She hurried over and threw her arms around him. She landed against his chest, and he had to brace himself to keep from stumbling back.
“Thank you,” she said against his ear as she squeezed him for all she was worth.
He allowed his arms to fold around her as he returned her hug. Her body melted against his, and he felt every one of those generous curves he’d noticed earlier. His hand skimmed over the small portion of flesh on her back that was bared by her shirt, and he wondered again over the tattoo he’d seen there. It was driving him crazy not to know what it was.
He shook his head and gently extricated himself from her grasp. “Let me call for the driver so he can return you to the hotel.”
She kissed him on the cheek and then turned toward the door. “Thank you, Theron, and I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”
He was left rubbing his cheek where her lips had brushed just seconds before. Then he cursed and strode around to the back of his desk again. He’d been so ready to condemn Chrysander for being involved with someone so young, and here he stood lusting over the same girl. Pathetic. It had obviously been way too long since he’d been with a woman.
He buzzed his secretary and quickly gave her instructions to find three or four possible apartments. If all else failed, he could give her Chrysander’s penthouse to use.
After talking with Madeline, he then picked up the phone to arrange for a security detail for Isabella.
As he hung up, he remembered that Alannis would be arriving in a week, and he groaned. He’d counted on not having Isabella to contend with when his future fiancée arrived. One woman was always more than enough, and splitting attentions between more than one was a recipe for disaster.
But maybe Alannis would have ideas where Isabella was concerned. Together they could introduce Isabella to a few eligible men—men who’d passed muster with Theron, of course.
Deciding that this was another task suited for Madeline, he buzzed her and asked her to compile a list of eligible bachelors complete with background checks and a checklist of pros and cons. She sounded amused by his request but didn’t question him.
Theron sat back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. This wouldn’t take long at all. He’d find her an apartment, find her a husband, and then he would turn his attentions to his own impending nuptials.