A Very Exclusive Engagement(13)

“Is everyone okay?”

Jessica nodded her head. “He hasn’t had me send flowers to anyone, so I would assume so. But he’s not taking calls. He’s been sitting at his desk all morning flipping through his address book and muttering to himself.”

Interesting. “Well, I hate to do it, but I have to speak with him.”

“As you wish.” Jessica pressed the intercom button that linked to Liam’s phone. “Mr. Crowe, Ms. Orr is here to see you.”

“Not now,” his voice barked over the line. Then, after a brief pause, he said, “Never mind. Send her in.”

Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know what that’s all about, but go on in.”

Francesca gripped the handle to his office door and took a deep breath before going inside. She’d dressed in her most impressive power suit today and felt confident she would leave his office with what she wanted. The emerald-green pantsuit was striking and well-tailored. Her black hair was twisted up into a bun, and she had a silk scarf tied around her neck. Not only did she feel good in the outfit, she felt well-covered. Liam had already seen too much of her body. She intended to keep every inch out of his sight from now on.

As she opened the door, she saw Liam sitting at his desk just as Jessica had described. He was flipping through an address book, making notes on his desk blotter. As she came in he looked up and then slammed the book shut.

“Good morning, Ms. Orr.” His voice was a great deal more formal and polite than it was the last time they’d spoken. Of course, then they’d been recently naked together.

“Mr. Crowe. I wanted to speak to you about the Youth in Crisis gala. We don’t have much time to—”

“Have a seat, Francesca.”

She stopped short, surprised at his interruption. Unsure of what else to do, she moved to take a seat in the guest chair across from his desk. Before she could sit, he leaped up and pointed to the less formal sitting area on the other side of his office.

“Over here, please. I don’t like talking to people across the desk. It feels weird.”

Francesca corrected her course to sit in the plush gray leather chair he’d indicated. She watched him warily as he went to the small refrigerator built into the cabinets beside his desk.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“I don’t drink at work.”

Liam turned to her with a frown and a bottle of root beer in his hand. “At all? I have bottled water, root beer—my personal favorite—and some lemon-lime soda. I don’t drink at work, either, despite the fact that if anyone wanted to be in a drunken stupor right now, it would be me.” He pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and handed it to her. “To replace the one we…used up in the elevator.”

Francesca started to reach for the bottle, then froze at the memory of water pouring over his head and onto her own bare chest. Damn, he’d said that on purpose to throw her off her game. Pulling herself together, she took the bottle and set it on the coffee table unopened.

Liam joined her, sitting on the nearby sofa with his bottle of root beer. “I have a proposition for you.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “I told you that I wasn’t interested in dinner.”

Liam watched her intently with his jewel-blue eyes as he sipped his drink. “I’m not asking you to dinner. I’m asking you to marry me.”

Francesca was glad she hadn’t opted to drink that water or she would’ve spit it across the room. She sat bolt upright in her seat and glared at him. “Marry you? Are you crazy?”

“Shhh…” he said, placing his drink on the table. “I don’t want anyone to hear our discussion. This is very important. And I’m dead serious. I want you to be my fiancée. At least for a few months.”

“Why me? What is going on?”

Liam sighed. “I’ve put myself in a vulnerable position with the company. I couldn’t afford all of Graham Boyle’s stock, so my aunt owns the largest share of ANS, not me. She’s threatening to sell it to Ron Wheeler if I don’t get married within a year.”

Ron Wheeler. That was a name that could send chunks of ice running through her veins. Charity didn’t help the bottom line in his eyes. Francesca, her staff and the entire department would be out the door before the ink was dry on the sale. And they would just be the first, not the last to go if he were in charge. “Why would she do that?”