A sharp knock on the door forced her to cut off her words. She sighed at the interruption of what was obviously a carefully constructed and rehea.r.s.ed speech.

Her beautifully pursed lips turned upward when she looked to see Thompson approaching with a mug of coffee.

"I don't know if I've ever been more grateful."

Both men watched her as she took a sip.

She closed her eyes momentarily. "It's excellent."

"It is?" Connor asked.

"You sure you don't need cream or sugar, ma'am?"

"It's exactly the way I like it."

"That's what I'm talking about," Thompson said, words almost sing-songy.

"Any possibility of stealing you away from Mr. Donovan? Name your price."

"I'll keep that in mind." Thompson's grin was sloppy, ridiculous. A former Special Forces bada.s.s should know better than to be fraternizing with a potential enemy.

Not that he should judge. Connor suspected that he had looked much the same the moment she'd walked through his office door.

"Anything else, sir?"

"Out," Connor said.

The man was still grinning like an idiot when he left.

"You really like it?" Connor couldn't help but ask when they were alone again. "You aren't just being polite?"

"About coffee? Never. Getting a cup like this ranks up there with receiving manna. Filtered water, no doubt. Freshly ground. Your man Thompson has elevated it to an art form of types. No doubt takes great pleasure in the ceremony of it."

"All that from a cup of coffee?" And from his a.s.sistant? He'd hired a secret barista? Was there no end to the man's talents?

She inhaled the aroma. "It has a nice flavor." She licked her upper lip.

G.o.d help him.

"Caramelly, a hint of chocolate perhaps. A good acidity around the edges of my tongue. I understand some people lack appreciation of a strong brew. I take it you're one of them?"

He didn't answer.

"You could always switch to hot chocolate."

Now his manhood was at stake. Connor told himself that Thompson had made her coffee weaker than usual, just for her. After all, she was a lady. "Where were we?"

She put the still-steaming mug on a coaster. He noticed that her hand shook a little. Immediately she put it in her lap. Good move. In business, opponents looked for tells that gave away a person's thoughts or reactions. She'd betrayed her nerves and, realizing it, had taken steps to hide it.

This was no social call. "You had a proposal?" he prompted before leaning back.

"My father can be very..."

He pressed his palms together and waited for her to find the right words.

"Committed to his ways."

"That's polite."

"I apologize for the way he treated you. Even if he hadn't wanted to consider your offer, his actions were inexcusable." She took a breath. "You told me last night to call if I had questions. I do. A number of them. I'm curious about the offer you took to him last night."

"You asked him?"

"I understand he didn't consider it."

"Regardless. It's off the table."

"I understand that. I'm hoping we can find a way to work together."

"Go on."

"You obviously know of the challenges we-meaning BHI-are having."

"Some," he agreed. "Since you aren't required to file public reports, the extent is nothing more than rumor and conjecture."

"We have divisions that are doing well. Others are not."

"And that brings you to your proposal?" Connor noticed she was twisting her hands together. The mug of coffee sat there, untouched and cooling. He waited. The only sounds were those of the air-conditioning's whisper and her rapid breaths. Whatever the woman had to say, it was costing her in terms of emotional energy.

"I know this is unexpected, ridiculous, outrageous..." She closed her eyes, then opened them again and locked her unblinking her gaze on him. "We're not even on a first-name basis."

"But?"

Her words had been jammed together, rushed, unpolished. While she'd been speaking with Thompson and with him, about the coffee, her tone had been light, not forced. Now, tension wove through her voice. Connor had no idea where she was going, but he sure as h.e.l.l expected it would be interesting, suspected he'd be willing to do anything she suggested, as long as she kept looking at him like that, as if he were hope, promise, threat and redemption all in one. f.u.c.king heady stuff.

After a short breath, she rushed on, "Will you marry me?"

Chapter Three.

Of all the things he'd been expecting her to say, that wasn't it. Connor wasn't sure he'd ever been more stunned. He took great pride in being prepared for all eventualities. He thought in terms of flow charts. Each thought led to a different result. Since he enjoyed considering various possibilities, he was rarely caught off guard, and she'd managed it twice.

Silence hung in a whisper, an expectation.

Possible responses crowded his mind. But only one mattered. "You have no idea what you're asking."

"I'm sure you're right. It was forward of me." She pushed back her chair and stood. She crossed to the window and stared out with her arms wrapped around herself. "But I'm hoping you'll be interested enough to hear me out."

"Go on." He remained where he was, still leaning back in his chair, considering.

She turned back to face him. "I don't want you thinking I'm behaving impulsively. On the contrary. I've spent many months searching for answers. The idea took shape overnight, and I spent most of today thinking it through, lining out objections, and ultimately, I think it's a solid idea. That said, if you want to schedule a different time to talk, I understand. Mr. Thompson mentioned you have other appointments."

"You're here now." He watched the battle rage across her face. A slight frown became pursed lips. No doubt it had cost her something to show up at his office uninvited. Earlier she'd mentioned a sleepless night, not that there was any trace of it on her beautiful face.

"BHI's communications division is in serious trouble."

He knew that. Before he asked for a definition, she added, "Three consecutive quarters of losses."

Which was worse than he'd surmised. "Mostly from the retail stores," he guessed. "People buy their gadgets in different ways than they did years ago."

She didn't deny that, but she didn't say he was right, either.

"Since you don't own the land under most of the stores, you can't win."

"Regardless, we own some patents. We do some things really well and there's plenty of potential."

All of which was true. He waited, wondering how this had led her to the idea of marriage.

"Options should be considered. Consolidation, mergers, a sale, acquisitions, infusion of cash, shake-up in leadership." She paused. "That's where you come in. I need your brain."

"Why mine?"

"You approached my father. It's clear you've already seen the possibilities. You're smart and aggressive, brilliant even."

"That's flattering-"

"As my husband, you'd have a seat on the board." She'd dug out the corporation's bylaws and confirmed that. To be certain, she had a corporate attorney going through the doc.u.ment as well, looking for pitfalls. "You could exert influence. I have years of insight I can offer you. It could be a marriage in name only. I'd be willing to negotiate a prenuptial agreement with you that we'd both sign. We'd naturally include a predetermined divorce date. Of course, we would keep our finances separate. We don't even have to live together."

He took it all in. "Very generous of you." In his most considered way, he allowed the tension to stretch. "And what do I get out of it?"

She lowered her hands to her sides. "I'm not sure what you mean. I've already said you stand to make a tremendous amount of money. And I'm sure those patents are very attractive."

"It's not all about financial considerations."

"You're a businessman," she replied. "This is an unprecedented chance for you to influence BHI's decisions on potential mergers with Donovan Worldwide. We're not just talking communications. Really, on any decision, we need you, myself, my mother and only one other person. We're only talking about a year, maybe two at the outside. And like I said, I'll make it as easy for you as possible. You'd be free to live your life as you do now."

He noticed that the shakiness had left her voice. She was now a woman in control again, and more, someone with what she believed was a solid business proposition. Lara was clearly operating from her strength. It appealed-she appealed-to him on a number of levels. But her suggestion would never work for him. "I have a different view of marriage than you do."

"Oh?"

"I'd want a few things from you in return. Please sit back down." His words weren't a polite request.

Seeming to recognize the authority in his words, she complied without hesitation. He considered that a positive first step. "Before you persist with this idea, there are some things you need to know."

"I'm listening."

"If we were to get married, we would live together as man and wife."

"I've already said that wouldn't be necessary."

"And I'm saying it will be." He picked up a pen and threaded it through his fingers. "And that point wouldn't be negotiable. I'd expect you to move into my loft."

"That seems like a lot of effort. I'd only be moving back out again."

"Non-negotiable," he rea.s.serted. "You can accept this term and keep the conversation moving forward, or I can thank you for coming to see me."

"This isn't how a negotiation works," she protested.

"You want something. I'm telling you what I expect in return."

"You stand to be the biggest winner here," she said. "I think you can afford to be a bit more magnanimous."

"I'm afraid that's not something I'm known for. You'd do well to remember that."

She opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it again almost right away.

"I will not have speculation about either of us or the nature of our relationship."

"Meaning?"

"You won't be dating other men," he said bluntly.

She nodded. "As long as you're discreet, I'm okay with you maintaining your friendships."

"There would be no cheating in this relationship. For either of us."

"The hypothetical relationship," she corrected, feeling a bit breathless.

He was getting to her, unnerving her, giving him the position of strength. Couldn't be better. "And we would sleep together."

"I..." She cleared her throat.

"Let me be more specific. We would f.u.c.k."

Her breath caught.

"Often." He dropped the pen and leaned toward her. "Is that a problem? Hypothetically?"

"No." She met his gaze. And he heard hesitation in her tone when she added, "None."

"Hypothetically, what do you know about BDSM?"

"Some," she admitted. Then her eyes widened. "Are you into it?"