Page 23 of The Bride's Billionaire

They stared into each other’s faces for a moment, open, bare. Both wanting the same thing, knowing that one achieving it would stop the other from having it. She wanted it desperately, buthowdesperately?

Enough that she couldn’t give it up for a new man in her life, no matter how much he was growing on her.

He let go of her hand and sat back, appraising. “So I’m falling for a woman who has successfully brought her bottler from regional distribution to a worldwide, respected member of the bottling community, someone who has as her passion the interests of others, a woman who loves people and cares for communities on this planet outside her own?”

She blushed under his praise. “You make it sound so much cooler than it is.”

“Sounds accurate to me.” He nodded. Then his eyes turned teasing. “And like I said, I’ve seen you in the dress…so…” His smile was so contagious, his energy intoxicating. “I’m already a fan.”

“Oh, the dress shop. What are the chances?”

He shook his head. “I don’t really believe in fate.”

She snorted, and he held up a hand. “Or rather, I didn’t used to, until this trip. Now I’m starting to wonder.”

“Fate isn’t always kind you know. Like a sick sense of humor wreaking havoc on people’s lives. I’ve got to win this bid, Tyler. When this is all through, if we are still talking to each other, we can see where fate’s sense of humor takes us?”

He nodded, his eyes sparkling with a stunning masculine confidence. “And are you free tomorrow night?”

“Are you not hearing me?” Exasperated, she didn’t understand why he didn’t just want to back away until this was all through, though she admitted the thought of spending time with him was equal parts the best part of this trip and the worst torture possible.

“I hear you. I just think you are giving up before we even begin.”

When she didn’t answer, he reached over and squeezed her hand again.

“The way I see it, we are two remarkably talented people, successful in what we do and totally compatible. You don’t think we can find a way to be together through this?”

If even half of the stories about the way he secured deals were true, she might actually hate him when all this was through. But for now, how could she resist? “What do you have in mind?”

“There you go.” Smiling her shrugged in the carefree way she’d come to love about him. “We’ll think of something.”

Chapter 9

Tyler smiled when Kayla’s image popped up on his phone.Busy. Eat breakfast without me.

They’d danced at the Samba Sensation last night until the placed closed at midnight. He left her at her door. They’d not kissed again since that moment of goodbye early yesterday morning. He guessed it was a mutual decision, and for now, he was glad to take things more slowly and get to know her, to catch up the other areas where they knew nothing about each other.

He clicked several websites closed. He’d been studying the market trends, the history of bottlers in Brazil, and Finley Bottlers. The more he learned about Kayla’s company, the more he realized he’d underestimated them and their ability to win this bid. It wasn’t a hometown operation like he’d thought, and where he assumed his would be superior in experience and profit turning, they were close enough to his numbers to be a real competitor. He winced. And she had him beat as far as likability and love for the people. No, he corrected himself. Rogerio liked him better. But de Santos? That man had fallen for Kayla and her charm almost as hard as Tyler had, only his was more of an elderly, proud uncle sort of liking.

So how did he want this to play? Losing was not an option. His fingers flew across his keys in an email to his vice president with a whole slew of instructions. Satisfied that he had covered his plan, the back-up plan, and the plan to cover the back-up if that one failed, he clicked his laptop closed and, whistling, headed out the door.

After a lonely breakfast, he waited at the front of the hotel for the car to pick them up. Kayla was nowhere to be seen, and he fought the urge to text her. If she was going to be late to meet their client, all the better for him. He wouldn’t sabotage her, but he wasn’t going to stop her from sabotaging herself. Besides, if he won the bid and things progressed between them, it might eventually come to benefit her life anyway, when they were married. He blinked, stunned at his train of thought. Was he considering making Kayla a more permanent part of his life? Maybe he was. He’d have to give that further thought later. Today was business, all business.

At last the car pulled up. A driver opened the door, and he slid in. He looked over his shoulder at the empty lobby one more time and then told the driver to go.

When he arrived again at Antar, he walked briskly through the lobby toward the elevators, smiling at how Kayla liked to walk just as fast as he did. Hopefully, she’d hurry and meet them before too long.

The elevator dinged at Antar’s floor and he exited, winking at the receptionist. Loud laughter came from the conference room: Rogerio, de Santos, and then a lovely light trill he recognized immediately. His eyes narrowed. Kayla. It appeared he’d also underestimated theownerof Finley Bottlers. He stood in the doorway for a full minute before anyone noticed him. Kayla laughed naturally, sharing experiences of her cousin in Brazil and charming both men without them even realizing it. She was good.

Her eyes lifted to his, and he knew she’d been aware of his presence in the doorway since he arrived, but her overly large and innocent eyes made him grin. She waved. “Oh, you’re here. Hello, Mr. Sperring.”

“Tyler, you made it. We were just catching up with Kayla here. Are you ready to make a day of it?”

“I’m ready to go, yes!” He stepped back so that they could join him in the hallway, where he walked at Kayla’s side. “Nice to see you this morning.”

“You too. I trust you slept well.”

“I did, and you?” He could keep up the same game. When the others walked in front of them to the elevator, he let his hand run down her arm and enjoyed the slight pink of her cheeks as a result.

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