MARRIAGE-BARGAIN

CHAPTER 12

ALEXA POV

Alexa looked over the crowd and wished she was back at BookCrazy, holding her Friday night poetry reading. The business dinner tonight

was the turning point in Nick's career. She knew heavy hitters swarmed the halls for the chance at glory, and Nick needed to dazzle the crowd

in order to get a hearing.

She handed the hostess her coat and let Nick lead her into the packed ballroom. "I'm assuming you have a general plan of attack?" she

asked. "Who are the two players you need to concentrate on?"

He motioned toward a thick cloud of cigar smoke. A tight circle of conservative businessmen surrounded a man impeccably dressed in a

gray suit and silk tie. "Hyoshi Komo is building the Japanese restaurant. His vote is key to gain the third partner in the waterfront deal."

"So, why don't you go over there and give your pitch?" She plucked a salmon tart from the tray of a tuxedo-clad waiter and grabbed a glass

of champagne from another.

"Because I don't want to be one of the crowd. I have a different plan in mind." She sipped the bubbly and sighed with pleasure. "Don't get

drunk."

She huffed out a breath. "I never knew husbands were so controlling. Okay, who's the final guy you need to impress?"

A flash of calculation crossed his face. "Count Michael Conte. He owns a successful pastry business in Italy, and decided to try his luck in

the States. He's focused on the first bakery opening at the waterfront."

She lusted after the tray of crab cakes on her left and tried to pay attention. Nick let out a huff, grabbed two from the waiter, and slid them

on the plate. "Eat."

"Right." For once, she agreed with his order. She popped the cake into her mouth and groaned with delight. His brows snapped together

and she realized she'd made him cranky. Again.

He stared at her mouth as if he wanted the crab cake for himself. "Alexa, are you listening?"

"Yes. Conte. Bakery. I guess you expect me to mingle while do your business?"

He gave a tight smile. "I'll work on Hyoshi for now. Why don't you keep your eyes open for the Count? He's tall, Italian accent, dark hair

and eyes. Engage him in some conversation—it will keep you occupied."

A small nibble of warning teased the edges of her consciousness but she was still too focused on the array of delicious appetizers. "You

want me to talk to him?"

He shrugged in controlled carelessness. "Sure. Be nice. If you find out anything interesting, let me know."

A chill skated down her spine and suddenly the scene crystallized. "You want me to spy for you?"

Impatience flicked in his voice. "You're being ridiculous. Just relax and enjoy the party."

"Easy for you to say. Your boobs aren't hanging out of your dress."

Nick cleared his throat and shifted. "If you weren't comfortable, you shouldn't have worn the dress."

She stiffened. "I borrowed it from Maggie. I didn't have an expensive dress."

"I would have given you the money."

"I don't need your money."

"Somehow, I doubt it. You didn't sign the contract for any lofty reasons. Might as well take as much as you can get."A short silence settled between them. Coldness seeped through her. "You're right. I was an idiot. Next time I'll buy out Macy's and send you

the bill." She turned on her heel and tossed her head. "After all, the only benefit to this marriage is your money."

She walked away and left him staring at her back.

Jerk.

Alexa sipped a second glass of champagne and settled herself by the picture window overlooking the balcony. Nick Ryan belonged in this

world—one of money and supermodels and refined dialogue. Clouds of Shalimar and Obsession blended with the heavy scent of cigar smoke.

Her sight was blinded by an array of silks and satins, mostly in black or neutral; non-showy colors to set off the diamonds and pearls and

sapphires she knew were all real. Everyone had tans, and she bet there wasn't a tan line in the lot.

Alexa heaved a deep sigh. She'd dressed with care for the party and held her breath as she walked down the stairs to await Nick's opinion.

Even she knew she looked damn good in Maggie's dress. The thought that she actually wanted to please him pissed her off.

He'd given her a thorough once over. Instead of a compliment, he'd mumbled about her choice of wardrobe and walked away. Didn't even

help her with her coat, or spare her a second glance until they got to the party. Hurt sliced deep but she punished herself for the emotion. She

retained a polite aura and pretended she dressed like this every Saturday night.

Yet, as soon as he spoke about his plan for the waterfront, his face shimmered with such raw emotion her body clenched in response.

Passion. Fierce need burned in golden brown eyes. She fantasized about being the woman who incited such wanting. Once again, she was

reminded Nick only experienced strong emotions for his buildings. Never women.

And never her.

She took a deep breath and finished her drink. Then launched herself through the double doors of the balcony and approached a group of

women who seemed to be commenting on the sculpture. Within moments, she neatly entwined her way into the discussion, secured

introductions, and delved into the world of social chatter.

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