She was fairly certain the whole thing had started as a pity kiss, but somewhere along the way, he’d actually gotten involved. So had she, but that was not so surprising.
She’d wanted to kiss the tycoon for the better part of three years. It had been an impossible fantasy…until tonight. Then a combination of events had led to a kiss so devastating, it would haunt her dreams for years to come.
She plopped down onto the side of her bed and grabbed a throw pillow, hugging it to herself.
He had tasted wonderful.
Had felt hard and infinitely masculine against her. Had smelled like the lover she desired above all others.
And then he had thrust her from him like a disease ridden rodent. She punched the cushion in her lap. He had been enjoying the kiss. She was sure of it, but then her father had interrupted and Dash had acted embarrassed to be caught kissing her.
Okay, maybe it did nothing for his sophisticated image to be caught taking pleasure in the kiss of an awkward twenty-six-year-old virgin who never dated. But surely it wasn’t such a tragedy either. Not so bad that he had to shove her away like something he’d found under his shoe in a cow pasture.
The tears that had seemed to plague her for one reason or another all evening once again welled hot and stinging in her eyes. He’d made her look like a complete fool. She’d been forced to smile while cringing inside at the teasing and downright ribald comments tossed her way for the last three hours.
People were saying that she’d thrown herself at him. That he’d had to practically manhandle her to get her off of him. That as desperate spinsters went, she had won the golden cup.
Wetness splashed down her cheeks.
She’d heard it all while circulating among the guests. People had gone out of their way to speak loudly enough so she could not help overhearing. Some had made jokes to her face. A few of the male guests had offered to take on where Dash had left off.
Her father remained blissfully ignorant, having closeted himself in the study with a businessman from Japan after the official toast. If she had anything to say about it, he would remain that way.
Dash Black, the rat, had left the party within minutes of his humiliating rejection of her.
Even the joy of being kissed with such heady abandon by the one man she had ever wanted could not overshadow her degradation at his hands in front of a room filled with her father’s guests. She hated Dash Black. She really did.
She hoped she never saw him again.
“The shares are not for sale.” Neal Patchett said.
Dash studied the man who had just spoken, looking for a chink in the man’s business armor, but Neal was a wily campaigner and not a speck of interest or emotion reflected in his gray eyes.
“I will pay you double what you gave my uncle for them.” Dash said.
He’d already offered a fifty-percent return on investment. To no avail.
Neal shook his head. “I don’t need more money.” He said.
The words were said with just enough emphasis to make a very pertinent point. Whatever Neal Patchett wanted in exchange for those shares, it wasn’t money and he could afford to turn down Dash’s best offer.
“Then, Mr Patchett, what is that you do need?” he asked, taking the bait.
“A husband for my daughter.” Neal replied.
Impossible! Dash was hoping Neal would drop this stupid idea by now.
“Are you serious?” Dash asked.
Neal Patchett leaned back in his chair, his hands resting lightly on his oversize executive desk. “I’m getting on in years. I want to make sure I leave Tess taken care of. Regardless of what young women these days believe, and young men when it comes to it—that means seeing her married.”
“I do not think your daughter would agree with you.” Dash replied.
“Getting her to agree is your job. The girl doesn’t know what is best for her. She spends all her free time working for the women’s shelter, or the local animal shelter, or doing things like answering phones for the annual MDA telethon. She’s a worse bleeding heart than her mother ever was.”
And it was unlikely she found the slightest understanding from the ruthless old bastard sitting across from him,Dash thought.
“So it is true that Tess doesn’t know you’re trying to buy her a husband?”
“I’m not interested in discussing what my daughter knows or doesn’t know. If you want those shares, you’re going to have to marry her to get them.” Neal said.
The shares in question were for the original family-held Black Shipping, a company started by his great-grandfather and passed through each successive generation. While it rankled, having a nonfamily member holding a significant chunk of stock was not the end of the world.
He stood. “Keep the shares. I am not for sale.”
“But Black Shipping is.” Neal replied.
The words stopped Dash at the door. He turned. “It is not. I would never countenance the sale of my family’s company.” He said.
Although his interests in Black Shipping represented a miniscule portion of his business holdings, his family pride would never allow him to offload it.
“You won’t be able to stop me.”
“My uncle did not hold majority stock in the company.” Dash said
But the fool had sold the large block he had held to Neal Patchett rather than approach his nephew when gambling debts had made him desperate for cash.
“No, but with the proxy of some of your distant cousins as well as the stock I have procured from those willing to sell, I do control enough shares in the company to do what I damn well please with it.” Neal said.
“I do not believe you.”
Many of those distant cousins had emigrated, but he could not believe they were so lost to family pride as to give an outsider their proxy or worse, sell their portion of Black Shipping to him.
His uncle he could almost believe. The man was addicted to wine, women and casinos. He had the self-discipline of a four-year-old and that was probably giving the man more credit than he deserved.