Cold as Ice - Anne Stuart [3]
“Ms. Spenser,” he said, rising from his seat on the couch, his Texas accent rich and charming. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting! You came all this way out here just for me and I leave you cooling your heels while I’m busy with paperwork. Peter, why didn’t you tell me Ms. Spenser was here?”
“I’m sorry, sir. It must have slipped my mind.” Jensen’s voice was neutral, expressionless, but she turned back to glance at him anyway. Why in the world wouldn’t he have told Van Dorn she was there? Just to be a pissant? Or was Van Dorn simply dumping the blame on his assistant as he knew he could?
“No harm done,” Van Dorn said, moving forward, taking Genevieve’s hand with the most natural of gestures and bringing her back into the cabin. He was clearly a physical man, one who liked to touch when he talked to people. It was part and parcel of his charisma.
Unfortunately Genevieve didn’t like to be touched.
But a client was a client, so she simply upped the wattage of her smile and let him pull her over to the white leather banquette, forgetting about the unpleasant little man who’d brought her here. Except that in fact he wasn’t that little. It didn’t matter—he’d already made himself scarce.
“Now, don’t you mind Peter,” Harry said, sitting just a bit too close to her. “He tends to be very protective of me, and he thinks every woman is after my money.”
“All I’m after is your signature on a few papers, Mr. Van Dorn. I certainly wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time—”
“If I don’t have time for a beautiful young woman then I’m in a pretty pitiful condition,” Harry said. “Peter just wants to keep my nose to the grindstone, while I believe in having fun. He doesn’t have much use for women, I’m afraid. Whereas I have far too much. And you’re such a pretty thing. Tell me, what sign are you?”
He’d managed to throw her completely off guard. “Sign?”
“Astrology. I’m a man who likes my superstitions. That’s why I named the boat Seven Sins. Seven’s my lucky number and always has been. I know that that new age crap don’t mean squat, but I enjoy playing around with it. So indulge me. I’m guessing you’re a Libra. Libras make the best lawyers—always judging and balancing.”
In fact she was a Taurus with Scorpio rising—her teenage friend Sally had had her chart done for an eighteenth birthday present, and that was one of the few details that had stuck. But she had no intention of disillusioning her wealthy client.
“How did you guess?” she said, keeping the admiration in her voice at a believable level.
Harry’s laugh was warm and appealing, and Genevieve was beginning to see why people found him so charming.
People magazine hadn’t lied—he was gorgeous. Deeply tanned skin, clear blue eyes with laugh lines etched deep around them, a shock of sun-streaked blond hair that made him look like Brad Pitt in his seedy mode. He radiated warmth, charm and sexuality, from his broad, boyish grin to his flirting eyes to his rangy, well-muscled body. He was handsome, charming, and any warm-blooded woman would have been interested. Right then, Genevieve couldn’t have cared less.
But she had a job to do, and she knew that one of her unspoken orders was to give this very important client anything he wanted. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d considered sleeping with someone for business reasons. She knew perfectly well what that made her—a pragmatist. She’d avoided it so far, but sooner or later she was going to have to be less fastidious and more practical. If it turned out that she had to sleep with Harry Van Dorn just to get some papers signed and get out of there…well, there were plenty of more onerous duties