Billionaire's Contract Engagement

Without waiting her consent, he swept his mouth over hers. Finally. Her sweetness exploded onto his tongue the moment he licked over her lips. Her mouth parted in a gasp, and he took full advantage, delving deep into her moist heat.



She made the sweetest sounds. He swallowed them up as he devoured every inch of her mouth. He was transfixed by her full bottom lip. He nipped lightly at it, teasing it to fullness and then he sucked it between his teeth.



Her tongue stroked tentatively over his, just light brushes with the tip and then she grew bolder, taking a more active part in the kiss.



His hands delved into her hair. He loved her hair. Long and glorious, the color like a russet sunset over the desert. The temptation was too great. He’d fantasized about it for too long.



He fumbled with the clip and released its hold on her hair. It tumbled down her back, over his hands like a wave. He gathered the strands between his fingers, mesmerized by their silky smoothness.



He drank deeply, not wanting the moment to end. He could spend hours kissing her, but he wanted more. He wanted to work his mouth down the curve of her jaw to her neck. He wanted to peel every layer of clothing from her body and then run his tongue over her soft skin.



He wondered what her breasts would feel like in his hands and what her nipples would taste like, how they’d feel as he sucked them into his mouth.



Oh, yes, he’d spent a lot of time wondering about her breasts. She never wore clothing that could be



deemed too provocative. She was fashionable, yes, but he secretly wished she’d wear something a little more revealing. It was killing him not to get a hint of her full, ripe breasts.



Soon. Soon, he’d unwrap all of her. He’d possess her. She’d be his.



He needed air and he broke away only long enough to pull oxygen into his starving lungs. She gasped along with him, and then he started at the corner of her mouth and licked and kissed his way across to the other corner.



Her small hands slid up his chest. It was like a heating element sliding over his skin. She left a blazing trail of fierce need in her wake. His entire body came alive, and all she’d done was touch him. Innocently.



They wound up around his neck and then her fingertips just delved into the hair at his nape. He shuddered, and it was all he could do to retain his tight hold on his control.



His body screamed at him to haul her over his shoulder and drag her caveman-style to the bedroom.



He’d rip off her clothes and spend the night taking her over and over until they both succumbed to exhaustion.



His mind yelled at him to be careful. To take it slow. Not to push her so far away that she never returned.



It was that fear of driving her away permanently that finally pulled him back from the brink of insanity.



With great reluctance, he pulled back. His hands were still tangled up in her hair, and he carefully extricated them from the heavy coil that lay over her shoulders.



Her eyes were cloudy, a gorgeous mix of confusion and desire that had him wanting to throw caution to the wind and continue his seduction.



“That,” he whispered, “is what I’ve been wanting to do ever since I saw you across a crowded room six months ago. Now you tell me this has anything to do with Maddox Communications and Reese Enterprises.”



Her hand fluttered to her mouth and she stared at him with shocked awareness.



“Oh, God, Evan. What are we going to do?”



He smiled gently and slowly pulled her hand away from her swollen lips.



“What we’re going to do is get your pitch out of the way tomorrow morning. Whatever happens afterward, we take it as it comes.”



Eight



There was no need for Celia to set her alarm. She never went to sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her senses completely shattered by something as simple as a kiss.



No. That kiss could never ever be called simple.



She’d thought to go over her pitch. Mentally replay everything she wanted to say until it flowed seamlessly through her mind. But all she’d been able to do was lay there and wonder how she was going to manage to keep things with Evan on a strictly professional level.



He kissed like a dream.



He’d make love like a dream.



And the sick thing was she’d never find out.



She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.



Celia, Celia.



The admonishment burned like acid on her tongue. She was walking a very tight, very dangerous line. It was bad enough that she was here with Evan. Sharing a suite with Evan. Her groan was swallowed up by the pillow.



The least she could have done was insisted on a separate room, but that wouldn’t have gone far in convincing his family that they were happily engaged.



Friendship. Okay, she could handle a friendship with Evan. She liked him. He asked her to consider this a personal favor. As a friend. And she’d forget the kiss. Forget that he had made his intention to make love to her abundantly clear.



All she had to do was get through her presentation, go to a rehearsal dinner, wedding and reception with Evan—as his fiancée—and then she could go home and put him firmly back in his neat, tidy little corner.



She struggled out of bed, knowing it would take her the better part of an hour to erase the look of someone who hadn’t slept. Evan had ordered room service to be brought up at eight, and she wanted plenty of time to go over her notes again.



She purposely toned down her looks, choosing subtle makeup. She did nothing to highlight her eyes, which were her best feature. And she pulled her hair back into a tight knot and used hairspray to keep the wispy tendrils from escaping. She wanted no distractions. No sizzling looks. No temptation to do something utterly stupid.



To her immense relief, when she walked out of her bedroom, Evan was in total business mode. He didn’t stare at her like he was set to devour her. He gave her a cursory glance and motioned for her to sit across from him at the dining table where breakfast had already been served.



“We can eat and talk, or we can eat and then talk. Strictly up to you,” he said when she took her seat.



“We can eat and talk,” she said. “I’m not using props or anything, and I planned it to be more conversational than a formal presentation.”



He nodded approvingly. “Great. Let’s dig in and get started then.”



There was a moment of transition where they ate in silence before Celia shut off everything but the task



at hand. This was her career and she knew she was damn good at it. She hadn’t gotten to where she was and survived the pitfalls without the ability to put her game face on in the face of adversity.



“I studied your last ad campaign, and I believe you’re missing a huge segment of your target audience.”



He blinked, set his fork down and stared across at her. “Okay, you have my attention.”



“Perhaps I should put it another way. I think you’re not targeting the right audience. You’re missing a huge opportunity.”



She paused for effect and then segued into her spiel.



“Right now you appeal to the sports crowd. The guy who jogs. The woman who goes to the gym. The person who cares about staying in shape. You’re all about functionality. The kids who play sports. The guys who play racquetball at the club. The casual basketball game on the weekends.”



Evan nodded.



“Then there are the people, like me, who are allergic to physical activity.”



He snorted and sent an appraising look over her body.



She ignored him and continued on.



“These are the people who watch sports. They’re tuned in to every game. The players. The teams. They run the gambit from the fanatic to the casual observer. They’re the people who will buy your sportswear not because they’re going to worry over the functionality. They don’t care. They want to look cool. They want to immerse themselves in the aura of the sports world. You’re a brand, a label. It’s a status symbol.”



Her excitement mounted with every word. He was listening intently. She had him.



“So you do dual marketing. You go after the die-hard fitness enthusiast with the sweaty workout commercials. The driven athlete who’s going to be the best and wearing your brand the entire time.”



Again she paused to gauge his reaction, and he was leaning forward, his brow creased in concentration.



“Then you go after the men and the women and the kids who want your clothing and your shoes because they look good. Because they make them feel athletic without ever lifting a finger. You show them someone looking cool and sophisticated in your clothing. You show them it’s hip to have Reese Wear. They can be average, everyday Joes and still know what it feels like to be a star.”



Then she went for the kill shot. Her excitement mounted because she knew he was interested. This had nothing to do with personal attraction. He was all business right now and his eyes gleamed with enthusiasm.



“And the person you show to both of these groups, the man you have doing the sweaty, driven shoots and the cool, suave commercials is Noah Hart.”



Evan’s eyes widened a fraction, and then he sat back in his seat. “Wait a minute.”



She waited, trying valiantly to hide her smug grin. This would be the fun part.



“You’re telling me you can get me Noah Hart?” He didn’t even wait for her to reply. “Companies have been after Noah Hart ever since he entered the major leagues.”



“Before,” she said airily. “They wanted him out of college.”



“Whatever. The point is, the man has never agreed to an endorsement deal. What makes you think you can change his mind?”



“And if I told you he’s willing to talk to you?”



“No way,” Evan breathed.



“It’ll cost you.”



“Hell, it would be worth it!” His eyes narrowed again. “He’ll talk to me. You’ve already been in contact with him?”



“I might have mentioned the possibility of you doing a new ad campaign.”



“And he’s interested?”



“He’ll talk to you. I provided him research, which means you passed the first round of scrutiny with him.



He’s a hard guy. You land him and it’ll be huge. Not only will you have a kick-ass ad campaign, but you’ll also be the guy who signed Noah Hart.”



“I’d want exclusivity,” Evan said quickly.



“You’d have to be prepared to pay for that privilege,” Celia pointed out. She wasn’t about to tell Evan that exclusivity or not, the chances of Noah agreeing to do another deal with someone else was slim to none. The man simply wasn’t motivated by money.



“Okay, let’s forget Noah Hart for the moment. I like your ideas, Celia. I mean, the average Joe has never escaped my notice, but you’re right. I’ve never gone after him in marketing. My commercials are always about the drive to succeed. I talk to the athlete in all of us.”



“Which I’ve just pointed out doesn’t exist in everyone,” she said drily.



“Yes, you’re right. Completely. The junior-high kid trying to look cool. Huge market there that I’ve yet to tap.”



“Most of my ideas are about how to structure television commercials, Internet advertising and print media to target all segments of the population from the die-hard sports and fitness enthusiast to Suzy Homemaker who just wants a comfortable pair of tennis shoes. We’d speak separately to teens, young adults all the way up to the retired folks.”



Evan nodded. “I’m interested. Definitely interested. When can you have a presentation put together for me? As I said before, I’m ready to move on this. I don’t mind taking a little extra time if I can be guaranteed better results.”



“You tell me when you can meet with us at Maddox and I’ll arrange it,” she said evenly.



“And Noah Hart?”



“I’ll arrange it as soon as we get back.”



“Then I’d say you’ve got your pitch appointment, Celia. I’m very impressed with what you’ve had to say. If your presentation delivers on the promise of your ideas, it’s something my company will be very excited about.”



Though she had every confidence in her ability to win him over, his enthusiasm gave her a wicked thrill.



She was forced to play it cool and smile politely as she thanked him, but on the inside she was doing an insane victory dance.



She had phone calls to make. Brock would need to know so they could start preparing. They’d want to do mock-ups of the advertising and have it prominently displayed on the television monitors in the Maddox reception area. On the day she’d give Evan her presentation, Maddox Communications would be all about Reese Enterprises. No one else would exist in the timeframe Evan was present in their offices.



“You have to tell me how you managed to get Noah Hart to agree to talk to me,” Evan said as he pushed his plate aside.



A small smile flirted at the edges of her mouth and she suppressed the urge to grin broadly.



“I can’t reveal all my secrets.”



“You pull this off and you’ll be legendary,” Evan said. “The man has never so much as been tempted to take a deal.”