The Billionaire's Bridal Bid (4 page)

The left side of his mouth curved in a smile. “You look perfect.”

Her chest tightened inexplicably. Dang it. He was not supposed to make her feel all fluttery. She gritted her teeth. And how dare he compliment her? Like he could charm her into submission.

“I assume,” she said peevishly, “that’s your plane we’re taking.”

He looked taken aback. “It is. How did you guess?”

She gestured to the scrawled name on the tail of the plane “
The Raven
? It’s—” Then she snapped her mouth shut. “It was just a guess. Didn’t you love that poem by Poe?”

But he’d caught her slip. He walked closer to her to stand less than a foot away. “The Raven was our project name for the nickel-metal hydride battery FMJ developed right after we went public.”

Suddenly, she was aware of how tall he was. He’d
been an extremely late bloomer, still in the five-nine range when he’d graduated from high school, but he’d sprouted those last three or four inches in college. When she’d known him, he’d been just around six feet. Was it possible he was even taller now? Or maybe it was just that his shoulders were broader. Either way, he seemed larger than life. Certainly larger than her life.

And he was entirely too close. Close enough to read every emotion as it crossed her face. Nervously, she licked her lips and then wished she hadn’t when his gaze traced the movement of her tongue as if she were a temptress.

“I must have read about it in the paper or something.” The Raven battery project had put FMJ on the map. Matt had gotten nearly a dozen patents because of that project. It had made him millions, shot the price of FMJ stock through the ceiling and revolutionized the rechargeable battery market. All of which she’d known because she’d compulsively followed his career in the years following their breakup.

He grinned, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You had to read some pretty technical articles to know that.”

She gritted her teeth. “Then maybe it was something someone mentioned in the diner.”

“Which you remembered all these years? Ah, Claire, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

“Either way, you obviously haven’t been able to leave your fascination with me alone.”

“What can I say, people pick at scabs.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Great, she’d meant to repel him with the analogy and instead she’d amused him.

“Are we going to go somewhere in this plane or did you just have me come out here to show it off?”

“We’re flying to San Francisco. But not yet.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he was taking her to San Francisco instead of Palo Alto. Yes, the two cities were just a short drive apart, but she’d just assumed he would take her to the city where he lived. But she certainly wasn’t going to press the issue. Palo Alto was their old stomping grounds. It’s where they’d dated and fallen in love. If he hadn’t planned on rubbing her nose in the past, who was she to bring it up? Instead, she asked the other obvious question.

“Why not yet?” Just then, another car pulled onto the tarmac. She frowned, watching the green Toyota maneuver toward the plane. As soon as she recognized the driver, she whipped back around toward Matt and narrowed her gaze. “You have got to be kidding me.”

He just smiled, walking toward the Toyota and holding open the door for the driver.

Out hopped Bella, the bubbly, overeager, annoying-as-hell reporter for the Palo Verde weekly paper.

“Thanks so much for calling me!” she effused, slinging the strap to her camera around her neck.

“No problem.” Matt flashed Bella a charming smile.

Claire’s stomach turned over in revulsion. How dare he try to manipulate this young woman? “Matt, you’re wasting her time. Our date can’t seriously be considered news.”

“Oh, it certainly is!” Bella enthused. “Everyone in town is curious about why… I mean, everyone wants to know where he’s going to bring you.” The younger woman widened her smile. Gazing up at Matt like a
groupie, she sighed. “I bet you have something really fancy planned.”

Claire tried to resist rolling her eyes. Not that it would have mattered, since Matt was concentrating on charming Bella and Bella seemed determined to let him.

Sheesh, did young women these days have no self-respect?

And when had he turned into this smooth playboy?

The boy she’d known had been straightforward to the point of being blunt. He’d been all rough edges and geeky brilliance.

Of course, despite her earlier protests, she had followed all the gossip about him. She knew the kind of women he dated, so she’d guessed he’d changed, but reading about it in the papers and watching it from a front-row seat were two entirely different things.

“Why don’t you two pose in front of the plane and I’ll take a couple of shots?” Bella gestured them closer together, directing them toward the nose of the aircraft. Then she stepped back, eyed them through her camera and said, “Closer.”

Matt stepped behind her, so his chest brushed against her shoulder. His hand settled between her shoulder blades and the musky scent of him muddled her senses.

“No, closer,” Bella ordered cheerfully. “Put your arm around her.”

Matt slung his arm over her shoulder, leaning close enough to whisper, “I swear I didn’t tell her to do this.”

“Oh, I believe you.” She was beginning to realize the plucky young reporter was an instrument of the devil,
gratingly cheerful and a total kiss-up. Evil geniuses weren’t this diabolical.

“So tell me, Matt,” Bella asked as she snapped some pictures. “Why did you bid so much money on Claire?”

“Maybe she’s the love of my life.” Matt made a show of nuzzling her hair.

The gesture sent warmth spiraling through Claire, which only annoyed her even more, especially in light of his sarcasm. She should not be attracted to him. She knew better. He was a first-class jerk and only an idiot would fall for his crap twice in her lifetime. She jabbed him in the belly, but he retaliated by grabbing her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips.

She jerked her hand away. “He’s joking. Aren’t you, Matt?” She gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs. “We’re just old friends.”

“Really?” Bella looked up from her camera, her expression baffled. “I looked up your records at the high school. You were three years apart. I assumed you barely knew each other.”

“We knew each other in college,” Claire said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you went to college, Claire,” the evil Bella said with wide-eyed innocence.

“Just one semester.”

Bella smiled brightly, meeting Matt’s gaze over Claire’s shoulder. “I graduated magna cum laude from the journalism school at UCLA.”

Again, with the flirting.

Claire smiled sweetly at Bella. “In that case, the job market must be really tough for you to have ended up at a weekly here in Palo Verde.”

Bella’s smile turned down at the corners, but she
got the message. She wrapped up the interview quickly after that, but not before offering to send Matt a copy of the article if he’d give her his email address. When he told her to send it to his secretary, Bella’s smile turned sour. She shot Claire a what-did-you-do-to-deserve-all-your-luck look then slunk away to her perky car. On the bright side, at least Wendy would have someone new to torture.

Claire didn’t have long to enjoy her victory though, because a second later, Matt was guiding her into the jet. She’d never been in a private jet before and had no idea if the sleek leather upholstery and swiveling lounge chairs were standard-issue. Her fingers all but itched to caress the leather as she moved past the seat. Instead, she twisted the strap to her purse around her hands.

“I can practically hear Robin Leach.”

“Who?” Matt asked.

“From
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous?
Gram used to watch it obsessively. Every week.” Matt just stared at her blankly. “Really? You’ve never seen it?”

He shook his head with an amused shrug. “Let me get you a drink and you can tell me all about it.”

“Well, too late now,” she muttered. “You’re living it.”

Before she could feel even more self-conscious, a smartly dressed woman in a navy suit and jaunty little cap stepped out of the cockpit and extended her hand.

“I’m Melissa. I’ll be your pilot this evening.”

“Oh.” She glanced to the back of the plane to where Matt stood at a bar in the galley pouring drinks. “I assumed…” But she didn’t finish the sentence.

She was so outclassed here, she should probably stop making assumptions of any kind.

“That Matt was going to fly you?” Melissa asked.
“He does have his pilot’s license, so he usually flies himself, but he uses his smaller plane,
The Dove,
for those trips.”

“Of course he does.” Naturally this wouldn’t be his
only
plane. Why not have two? Or a half dozen for that matter. “Technically,” Melissa was saying, “
The Raven
is the company plane. Ford and Kitty fly back and forth to New York often enough to warrant it. Matt’s never used it before for a date.”

“Oh. I—” Claire broke off, unsure what to say. She’d assumed the private jet was just standard playboy fare for Matt. But apparently it wasn’t. What was she supposed to do with that? Obviously, Melissa thought tonight really was some sort of hot date. Unsure what to say in response, Claire gave a weak smile and feigned interest in the trim work.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Melissa was saying. Then, as if she sensed Claire’s anxiety, she asked, “Is this your first time flying in a smaller plane?”

Claire nodded, glad to have an excuse to explain her nerves. “It is.”

“You’re in for a treat. It’s not like commercial air travel.”

Which Claire actually wouldn’t know. She’d never flown before. Not that she was about to mention that to Mr. Owns-Two-Planes.

Melissa was right about one thing, Claire was definitely in for an unusual experience. But
treat
was not the word she would have used.

M
att noticed Melissa giving him an odd look as she retreated to the cockpit. He’d never used
The Raven
on a date before. His Cessna was always his first choice, but for tonight he was pulling out all the stops. He was going to wow the socks off Claire.

At the front of the plane, the cabin held four chairs facing each other; the back held another pair of chairs as well as the sofa and the galley. He pushed aside the fantasy of Claire, vest unbuttoned, sprawled beneath him on the sofa. If her defensive posture was an indication, he wasn’t going to get her anywhere near the back of the plane. At least not on the flight there.

For now, he’d have to content himself with getting her to unclench enough to set her purse down. Holding the bottle of wine in one hand and cradling the pair of champagne flutes in his other palm, he gestured to the
seats. “Go ahead and have a seat. We’ll be taking off soon.”

She seemed to hesitate, as if gauging her chances at making a run for it. Her nerves amused him. She’d been so damn defensive the other morning at Cutie Pies. So angry, he could hardly get a word in edgewise, but now, he had the home-field advantage and he intended to use it.

She picked the corner chair, automatically swiveling to face off against him. A second later, the plane started inching forward and she braced her hands on the arms of the seat, her gaze darting nervously. He set the bottle in the bucket on the table and extended one of the flutes to her.

“Here. It’ll calm your nerves.”

“I’m not nervous!” she protested, but then the plane gave a slight bump as the wheels lifted off the ground and she ruined the effect by taking a gulp.

“I can get you something stronger. To calm your not-nerves.”

Her gaze narrowed slightly so she was almost glaring at him, but at least she didn’t look ready to faint. “No, thank you. After all, you’ve gone to all the trouble of getting champagne. I’d hate to ruin your complete lack of imagination.”

“Actually, this is a Blanc de Noir from Napa.”

She eyed the pale pink liquid suspiciously, as if he might have ruffied her. “Sounds fancy.”

“I took a chance that your palate had developed beyond wine coolers.”

Back when they’d dated in college, those had been her drink of choice, being both mild and cheap. Of course, at the time he’d drunk mostly lite beer for the same reason.

He lowered himself to the chair opposite hers. A plate of cheese and fruit was sitting out on the table and he nudged it toward her. “Try it with the grapes. They’re from the same region and pair nicely with the wine.”

Instead of following his suggestion, she leaned forward, the grapes untouched. “Tell me, Matt, what is it exactly you think you’re doing here?”

“Excuse me?”

“The champagne. The fruit plate. The private jet, for goodness’ sake. It’s an awful lot of trouble to go through when you’ve already spent twenty thousand dollars.”

“It really isn’t,” he said dismissively.

“No, it really is. I get it, Matt. You’re worth
a lot
of money now. I knew that already. So why is it so important to you to rub my nose in it?”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“It’s obviously what you’re doing. This isn’t you.” She gestured to the plane and the chilling bottle in the bucket. “You used to hate this kind of pretentious crap. And the way you acted with that reporter. She fawned all over you and you just ate it up.”

Matt took another sip of the Blanc de Noir, relishing the cool slide down his throat. “You sound almost jealous.”

Claire stilled, surprise registering on her face, as if that possibility had truly not occurred to her. She downed another gulp of wine. “Disgusted is more like it.” Looking rattled by the idea, she shook her head. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

He set down his own glass. “Tell me something, Claire. What really bothers you about this situation? You claim to know how much I’m worth. You knew how much I spent to buy the date with you. This—” he
mimicked her gesture toward the plane “—can’t surprise you.”

“You could have taken me to Luna across the street from Cutie Pies and I would have been pleased. More than. You would have spent a hundred dollars, tops.”

“Would that really have satisfied your curiosity?”

“
My
curiosity? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t tell me you’re not curious. About me. About my life. About what your life would have been like if we’d stayed together.”

“You think I’m curious about
the money?
About some rich and fabulous lifestyle that you’re living?” Her tone was sharp with disbelief. “Wow, you are really…well,
delusional
is the word that comes to mind.”

“Fine,” he said with a nod. “I’ll let you pretend. I won’t ask you how you knew about the Raven project or why you remembered that after all these years.”

The look she gave him surprised him. It was so…patronizing almost. Like there was something big he’d missed entirely. Finally, she shrugged. “Okay, then. Let’s say it was all about the money for me. What of it? Taking me on this date doesn’t satisfy my curiosity. It only sows discontent. Makes me more miserable.” Understanding lit her eyes. “Unless that’s what you wanted. Unless this really was about revenge.”

“Boy, you seem obsessed with this revenge idea.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Just trying to figure all this out. All this money is a lot to spend on a date unless you’re trying to make a point.”

“Most women like having someone splurge big on them.”

“Is that really your experience? That most women like this? This ostentatious posturing really works for you?”

Forget all her indignation. He’d seen her expression when she’d first stepped out of the limo. She’d been impressed. Just like every other woman he’d ever flown anywhere for a date. She just didn’t want to admit it. And wasn’t that interesting?

He smiled, not bothering to hide his satisfaction. “You’d be surprised how many women this works on.”

She just shook her head ruefully. “I doubt it. Small-town cafés are just one step away from a therapist’s chair. I know women pretty well. So, no, I’m surprised that this impresses some of them. For plenty of people, money is all that matters.”

And then she pinned him with a steady, quiet look. For the first time since she’d walked back into his life, he felt all her anger slipping away, felt as though she was looking to the very core of him.

After a second, she looked away to gaze out the window, her expression unreadable. “What surprises me is that you put up with it. The Matt I knew had a very low tolerance for pretension. I can’t imagine you wanting to be with someone who was here only for your money. I can’t imagine you spending five minutes with someone like that. Forget the entire night.”

He felt a pang of loss at her words. She was right, of course. In his friendships and his work life, he didn’t tolerate people who were in it just for money. In FMJ’s highly competitive research and development department—the branch he was in charge of—employees got by on their hard work and brilliance, otherwise they were shown the door. So why did he put up with that kind of thing in his personal life?

The only answer that came to mind was that he simply cared less about his personal life than he did
about FMJ’s success. He considered the idea for a minute. Wooing women with money was the path of least resistance. And since none of the women he dated were important to him, that was the path he took.

So what was he doing here with Claire? Did he really think the limo and the plane were going to impress her? Maybe. Yeah, maybe he had.

She was dead wrong about one thing: it wasn’t revenge that motivated him. It was something more personal. She may claim to know how much he was worth, but knowing it and experiencing it were two different things. She may claim she didn’t care about the money, but she was lying, if not to him, then to herself. Everybody cared about the money.

He wanted her to know exactly what she’d given up by leaving him. He wanted her intimately acquainted with what her life would have been like if they’d stayed together.

The limo and the jet were just the tip of the iceberg. The rest of the date was going to impress the hell out of her. And if he knew women half as well as he thought he did, she’d be begging him to take her back.

Claire wasn’t sure what she expected for their date. Between her anxiety and her apprehension, she hadn’t given herself much of a chance to consider the actual destination. Once the plane had landed in San Francisco and he’d moved her into the limo, she gave up badgering him for clues to where he was taking her.

What would he do next? Something ostentatious. Something guaranteed to highlight the difference between their social standings.

He’d said this date wasn’t about revenge, and she’d realized on the plane that he was being honest. Or at
least he thought he was. This wasn’t revenge. He was merely putting her in her place.

Of course, she’d always known they didn’t belong together. Even back in college when she’d thought he was her soul mate. Even then she’d known that he would always be richer, higher-class, better educated and smarter than she was. She’d just thought he didn’t care about that sort of thing. Obviously, she’d been wrong.

He thought she was white trash, just like every other member of his family did. This was exactly like all the times when she was in high school when his brother, Vic, tried to cop a feel, but didn’t really want to take her out on a date. Those Caldiera girls, they were perfect for fooling around with on the sly, but they weren’t for serious relationships.

Tonight was that lesson on a grand scale. It was a point-by-point presentation of all the ways she just wasn’t worthy.

She knew it for sure when the limo pulled up in front of a building with an elegant white marble facade. No grand sign or flashing lights identified the restaurant. Still she recognized the name etched in the glass of the double doors.

Climbing out of the limo, she blew out a rough breath and pressed her palm to her belly. “This is a Michelin three-star-rated restaurant.”

Matt just smiled.

Located in the bustling heart of San Francisco’s financial district, Market had earned a reputation for its simple but elegant atmosphere and its world-class menu featuring local and organic ingredients. Its chef and owner, Suzy Greene, had just launched her own show on the Food Network,
Greene on Green.

Claire’s feet felt heavy, but Matt’s hand was steady at her back as he guided her through the double doors.

But she stopped stone still when they stepped inside. The restaurant was empty. At seven o’clock on a Saturday night. She turned to Matt in confusion. “How is this—”

But a woman’s voice broke through her confusion. “Welcome to Market.”

And there she was, Suzy Greene, walking across the empty space, arms wide and welcoming. She was shorter than she looked on TV, a petite little ball of energy with no-nonsense pixie-cut blond hair and a sassy smile.

She greeted Matt warmly with a kiss to his cheek before shaking Claire’s hand. “Matt tells me you’re a restaurateur, as well.”

“As well?” Claire muttered. When confusion flickered across Suzy’s expression, Claire felt obliged to explain. “I own a small-town diner. I wouldn’t lump Cutie Pies in the same category as Market.”

“Ah,” Suzy nodded, smiling again. “But I’m sure the hassles are the same. Managing staff, keeping the customer base happy. The long hours. The relentless work.” Then she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “Balancing no time to exercise with an intense love of high-calorie food.”

Claire had to laugh. “Yes, I do have that problem, as well.”

Suzy linked her arm through Claire’s and gave it a pat. “I can tell we’re going to be friends.”

Friends with Suzy freakin’ Greene? She didn’t think so. But the other woman was so nice, Claire could hardly protest as she was led to table set with large rectangular plates.

“That’s why I knew I had to do something special for you when Matt told me about your date.”

“Something special?” Claire looked again at the empty restaurant, her suspicion taking root.

“He’s a very good friend,” Suzy continued, ignoring Claire’s question. “It’s not everyone I’d let reserve the restaurant on such short notice.”

“You shut down Market? For Matt?” Then she did a mental head slap. Obviously, the restaurant had been shut down. On a normal Saturday night, a place like this would be booked solid.

Then Claire started counting the days. It had only been two weeks since the benefit in Palo Verde. Even if he’d started planning their date the second he got back to town, that was less than fourteen days.

“That’s crazy,” Claire protested, shooting a look at Matt and then Suzy. “How on earth did you arrange this on such short notice? People must have had reservations for months now.”

Suzy laughed. “They were very understanding when I explained. Besides, Matt offered to pay for their meals if they rescheduled. It’s such a romantic story, how you two met again after all these years.”

“Matt told you? About how we met again?”

“What a great story.” Suzy sighed. Then immediately clapped her hands together. “I’ve had such fun planning the meal. I have a seven-course tasting menu that you’re just going to love! I’ve paired each of the courses with a local wine. It’s the most fun I’ve had all year. It’s not often I get to play with no concern for budget at all.” Suzy gave Claire’s arm a squeeze and practically squealed with excitement.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Claire said drily.

Suzy waved aside her protests. “I got to give most of
my staff the night off. They were thrilled.” She gave a playful wink. “Don’t worry, he’s compensating me.”

“No. Really.
He
shouldn’t have.”

A moment later, they were seated at the table with a plate of amuse-bouche between them. After explaining what each of the tempting nibbles was, Suzy excused herself to put the finishing touches on the next course.

As soon as they were alone in the dining room, Claire leaned forward and hissed, “I can’t believe you lied to Suzy Greene to get her to clear out the restaurant for us. Suzy frickin’ Greene! That’s despicable.”