It Happened in Manhattan. Emily McKay

It Happened in Manhattan - Emily McKay


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she muttered. “Because I wasn’t feeling beleaguered enough.”

      Ford swept into the room with all the subtly of a tsunami, and he brought flotsam and jetsam in his wake. Jonathon and Casey followed him.

      “I assume you’ve both seen it.”

      Kitty opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, he turned to her assistant. “We’re going to have to make a preemptive strike. We’ll schedule a press conference. But not for this afternoon. We want to appear proactive, but we don’t want to lend credence to the blog by appearing to be reacting to it. So announce the press conference, but schedule it for a few days out. Wednesday maybe. Jonathon, why don’t you and Marty get started on that? Casey, you can—”

      Fear propelled her to her feet. “A press conference?” She tried to scoff convincingly. “Over a piddling gossip blog? Isn’t that overreacting?”

      Ford turned the weight of his gaze on her. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not at all. FMJ’s acquisition of Biedermann’s hasn’t been officially announced yet. It doesn’t look good that the news was leaked.”

      Right. The acquisition. The news of her pregnancy had overshadowed everything else. She’d forgotten that the blog even mentioned the buyout.

      “But,” she protested. “It was leaked to a gossip blog. One that no one is likely to read. And it’s even less likely that anyone who does would care about business.”

      “This blog may have a wider readership than you think. We all read it within a few hours. We have to assume others have, too. If we work fast, we can minimize the damage.”

      “Why should we respond at all? We certainly don’t want people thinking that whatever this woman posts online is true.”

      Marty’s gaze had been ping-ponging back and forth between them. Ford narrowed his gaze at the other man, giving him a why-are-you-still-here look. Before Marty could respond to the unspoken question. Jonathon ushered both Casey and Marty out with such practiced ease, she couldn’t help wondering if he and Ford had orchestrated the move.

      “Wow,” she murmured. “I’m impressed. Normally it’s impossible to get Marty out of my office when he’s got a bone to pick.” She gestured between Ford and the door through which Jonathon had just vanished. “Did you guys plan out that two-pronged approach? Not that I mind. If we have to talk about that blog, I’d much rather do it without an audience.”

      “Damn right we have to talk about that blog. Was she right? Are you pregnant?”

      “Does it matter?” Kitty countered smoothly.

      Her lack of denial was all the confirmation he needed. Ford gritted his teeth against the questions he wanted to throw at her. As prickly as she was, it wouldn’t take much to push her into a full-fledged argument.

      “I’d prefer a quiet wedding, but I’ll leave that up to you. We should—”

      She spun to face him. “We’re not getting married.”

      “Of course, we’re getting married.” A hard note crept into his voice. “I’m not going to desert my family.”

      For a long moment, she seemed to be considering him. Then she patted her belly with exaggerated care. “Well, lucky for you, this baby and I aren’t your family.”

      Kitty stood there, one hand propped on her hip, chin up, all defiant bravado.

      “You’re saying it’s not mine?”

      “I’m not saying it isn’t yours. It isn’t yours.”

      “But you are pregnant?”

      Her chin inched up a notch. “What I am is none of your business. Not your burden. Not your problem.”

      “You couldn’t be more than a couple of months pregnant,” he pointed out.

      “What’s your point?”

      “The timing is perfect for me to be the father.”

      She quirked an eyebrow, her expression full of arrogance. “What, you think I came back from Texas so satisfied that I couldn’t even imagine being with another man?”

      “I suppose I would like to think that. But the truth is, you’re not the type to sleep around.”

      “Oh, really?” she asked, her voice brimming with challenge. “And you’re such an expert on me? How long have you known me, Ford, really? A week? It’s less than that, isn’t it? The truth is, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

      If she was lying, she did a damn good job of it. There wasn’t so much as a sputter of doubt in her eyes to give her away.

      He waited for the surge of relief. Pregnant or not, she was letting him off the hook. All he had to do was take her at her word and walk away.

      He studied her standing there, taking in the defiant bump of her chin, the blazing independence in her eyes. She was dressed in slim-legged pants and a fuzzy sweater that made her look touchable. But that was the only hint of softness about her, otherwise she was all hard angles and bristly defenses.

      Kitty was pregnant. There was a baby growing inside her belly. A tiny life. Maybe his. Maybe not.

      But his gut said it was his. Every possessive, primitive cell in his body screamed that her child must be his.

      Of course, that didn’t mean it was. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I don’t know you well, but I’m a good judge of character. I know you well enough to know you’re capable of lying to get what you want. The only thing I don’t know is what it is you want.”

      She squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “What I want is to save Biedermann’s. If FMJ can do that, then we’ll have a deal. If not, I’ll find someone else who can.”

      “Are you sure you don’t want Marty here?” Ford asked as he sat down at the conference table. “He is your CFO.”

      “I’m sure.” They were working late, trying to get all the details of the acquisition hammered out before the press conference later in the week. Thanks to Suzy Snark, they needed to work much faster than they might have otherwise. Instead of sitting herself, she stood near the windows, staring out at the cityscape below. Marty made her so damn nervous. She’d asked Ford to set up this meeting between him, her and Jonathon precisely because she couldn’t ask the kinds of questions she needed to with Marty in the room.

      Of course, Jonathon made her nervous, too, with his steady gaze and his brilliant head for numbers. He was exactly the kind of person who made her feel twitchy with fear. But Jonathon couldn’t be avoided. She no longer trusted herself to be alone with Ford.

      Which was why she waited until Jonathon had settled into a chair at the conference table before speaking.

      “If I’m going to hand my family’s company over to your tender care—” Kitty stressed the words tender care, letting them hear her doubts that their management of Biedermann’s was likely to be either tender or careful “—then I need assurances that you actually have a plan in place.”

      Jonathon cleared his throat. “If you’ve read the proposal we sent, you’ll see your compensation package is—”

      Ford interrupted him. “I don’t believe it’s her compensation package she’s worried about.”

      She looked over her shoulder, surprised by his comment. He sat at the table, leaning back in his chair, one ankle propped up on the opposite knee. The posture was relaxed, but there was an intensity to his gaze that made her breath catch in her chest.

      “Yes.” She forced fresh air into her lungs. “Exactly.”

      Now, Ford sat forward, steepling his hands on the table before him. “Unless I’m mistaken, Kitty is the rare CEO who is less worried about what she’s going to get out of this settlement than how the


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