The Billionaire Date by Leigh Michaels Page A

feel enthusiastic about a stroll. “But if you insist—turn left at the stop sign, and then take a right a couple of blocks up.”
    A smile tugged at his mouth. “I thought you might see the advantages of letting me take you home.”
    â€œWell, don’t get the idea that I’m planning to invite you in!”
    â€œIsn’t it funny,” he mused, “the sort of thing that obviously came to your mind under the heading of advantages when I was only referring to taxi service.”
    Kit clenched her teeth hard and only released the pressure when it was necessary to give him further instructions.
    The instant the Porsche drew up in front of her apartment house, Kit pushed her door open. She was standing on the sidewalk by the time Jarrett came around the car. He shut her door carefully and said, “You never did answer me, you know. Same time tomorrow? Maybe we can take in a male-strippers show.”
    She turned to face him and said sweetly, “Oh? Do you own them, too? Or do you simply enjoy that sort of entertainment?”
    â€œNot at all.” He sounded unperturbed. “But I’d put up with it for your sake in case you want to invite them to entertain at the auction.” He waved two fingers in a casual salute and leaned against the car. “I’ll wait here till you’re safely inside.”
    He hadn’t even touched her, much less carried through the sultry promise he’d implied to the reporter earlier that evening. And that, Kit reminded herself, was perfectly fine with her.
    Of course she hadn’t wanted him to kiss her!
    Â 
    The production room on the top floor of Tryad’s brownstone was quiet except for the hum of the computer and the soft, rasping purr of the calico cat who lay across Kit’s lap.
    Kit put the finishing touches on a computer-graphic image and clicked on the button that sent it to the printer. As she moved to insert a sheet of paper, the cat opened her eyes and protested sleepily, then climbed from Kit’s lap and plopped in the center of a puddle of sunshine to give her fur an indignant lick.
    Kit leaned back in her chair to enjoy the peaceful surroundings. She loved this part of the public relations business, taking an amorphous idea and translating it into a solid form—in this case, a campaign to promote the new hot line number for reporting child abuse. If the board in charge of the hot line liked her design, it would go to the printer and then out to the public in the form of posters, radio and television spots and billboards.
    Of course, the quietly technical side wasn’t the only thing Kit liked about public relations. Working with people was fascinating, too. She liked to listen to them, to figure out the difference between what they thought they wanted and what they really needed. That, Kit had found, was the key to long-term client satisfaction.
    Though why that should bring her thoughts to Jarrett as abruptly as a car smashing into a concrete wall was something she didn’t understand. There was no mystery about what he wanted. He wanted to destroy Tryad, and more specifically Kit.
    But why? The failure of the fashion show, of course—which he’d laid at her doorstep. What she didn’t understand was why he’d chosen this way to take revenge. For one thing, why had he given her the warning and the challenge to make good instead of acting on his displeasure?
    Wry humor stabbed through her. Maybe he’d been more impressed by her backward harem costume than she’d realized!
    Susannah came in and spread the contents of a portfolio on a worktable nearby. “Will you be finished with the computer soon?”
    Tugged back to reality, Kit sat up straight and reached into the printer tray for the finished graphic. “Right now, I think. Yes, it’s all yours, as soon as I save my files.”
    â€œNo big hurry. I want Alison’s opinion, and yours, before I start. The