LITMIR.BIZ

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her magazine and took her time crossing the small waiting room to the inner office. He stepped back and gestured her inside with elaborate politeness.

      He really was as tall as she’d thought, that day in The Maple Tree. At the press conference, she’d been too preoccupied to notice much, but now she remembered how far she’d had to look up into those odd hazel-green eyes. They didn’t look like emeralds today, she noted. That was all right—she wasn’t here to amuse him.

      She paused just inside the door and looked around thoughtfully. “This isn’t anything like I expected.” The room was large—obviously it had once been a classroom—and the wall of windows and the neutral color scheme made it look larger yet. Nearly everything was various shades of gray—walls, carpet, sofa, window blinds. The desk looked like ebony. Only the art—mostly watercolors of buildings—added color. She waved a hand at a stylized drawing of a skyscraper. She recognized it—Lakemont Tower, one of the city’s newest and grandest. “That’s one of your projects, of course.”

      He nodded.

      “As towers go, it’s not bad. At least it has some class. But I expected you’d have your office there, with a gorgeous view over Lake Michigan.”

      Dez shrugged. “This office was good enough for me when I started the company, and it’s still good enough. Besides, offices at the top of Lakemont Tower command a very high price. Why tie up the space myself when I can rent it out for good money?”

      “Oh, yes,” Gina mused. “I remember now. You told the reporters yesterday that you’re the practical type.”

      He frowned a little. “I didn’t realize you stayed around for the whole press conference.”

      “I didn’t. But I watched the report on the late news, too. They had more footage from the press conference then, and there you were, big as life. ‘I’m a businessman,’” she quoted. “‘I’ll consider any reasonable option that’s presented to me.’”

      “What about it? It’s not like I’m admitting to a secret vice. Look, it’s charming that you stopped by—it would have been even more charming if you’d brought a nice hazelnut coffee, but I won’t hold that against you this time. However, as much as I’d like to chat, I do have things to do today.”

      Gina sat down on one end of the couch. “Of course you do. So I’ll come to the point. I have a reasonable option for you to consider.”

      “Reasonable is a relative term. Unless you have the cash to buy me out—”

      “No. I don’t.”

      “Then please don’t waste my time lecturing me about why I should preserve the Tyler-Royale building. Obviously you didn’t hear the entire press conference or you’d know better than to try.”

      “I don’t intend to do anything of the sort.” She crossed her legs just so, put her elbow on the arm of the couch, propped her chin against her hand, and smiled. “I’m here this morning to give you the chance to be a hero.”

      Dez looked at her in disbelief. She was going to offer him a chance to be a hero? The woman had lost her mind. If she ever had one to begin with. “Ms. Haskell—” he began.

      “Oh, call me Gina—please. I don’t blame you for being upset last night,” she went on with a sympathetic tone that was so palpably false that it made the air feel sticky.

      “Upset?” he snorted. “I don’t get upset.”

      “Really? Then why did you call me up and yell at me?”

      Dez was honestly taken aback. “I didn’t yell at you.”

      “Oh? I suppose that’s what you call calmly expressing an opinion?”

      “It sure as hell is. I wasn’t yelling. I admit I was annoyed at the way that pack of jackals twisted my words, especially when I thought you might have fanned the flames, but—”

      She nodded. “That’s what I said. You were…” It was obvious that she saw the expression on his face, for she broke off abruptly. “The news reports made you sound like King Kong, stomping around the city knocking down every building in sight. Of course you were put out by such unfair reporting.”

      “Lady, if I got upset every time a bunch of reporters took after me, I’d be living on antacids.” He threw himself down on the opposite end of the couch from her. “Now what’s this about you making me a hero?”

      “It won’t be my doing, really. I’m just here to show you the way.”

      She shifted around to face him, and her skirt slid up an inch, showing off a silky, slim knee. The maneuver didn’t look practiced, but that only demonstrated how smooth an operator she was. “You’ve got about two minutes before I throw you out,” Dez warned.

      “Very well.” With an unhurried air, she consulted her wristwatch, then settled herself more comfortably on the couch. “The media seems to have decided that you’re public enemy number one. And you must admit that you’ve played right into their hands. Really—after all these years, and after all the projects you’ve been involved in, you’ve never yet found yourself owning a building that was worth saving?” She shook her head in apparent disbelief.

      “Only this one.”

      She looked around the room. “And it’s starting to get some age on it. Be careful, or one of these days you’ll find yourself preserving a historic structure in spite of yourself.”

      “There’s nothing historic about this building, and I’ll keep it for exactly as long as it suits my purpose. Look, sweetheart, if you think I’m going to let the opinions of a few reporters keep me awake nights, you’re wrong. They’ll forget about saving the Tyler-Royale store just as soon as another story catches their interest. This will pass—it always does.”

      She kept smiling. “Sure about that, are you?”

      The fact that her voice was practically dripping honey didn’t lessen the threat that lay underneath the words. The antacids were starting to sound like a good idea after all.

      “But why make it hard on yourself?” she went on. “You already own eight square blocks of downtown Lakemont. Or maybe it’s even more than that—those were just the properties I found listed in a quick search at the county assessor’s office this morning.”

      He had to hand it to her; she’d done her homework.

      “To a tycoon, what’s one block more or less?” she went on. “The media have adopted the Tyler-Royale building as their darling. If you save it, you’ll be—”

      “Lakemont’s own superhero,” he mused. “If you asked me, I’d say you’ve been reading too many comic books. Just for the sake of argument, exactly what kind of plan do you have in mind for saving the building? I suppose you want me to just hand it over to you?”

      “Well, not to me personally, of course. But just think how marvelous you’d look if you gave it to the Kerrigan County Historical Society.”

      “Well, if all the goodwill in the world was resting on it, I couldn’t do that. Remember? I don’t own the building. I suppose I could give you the option to buy it, if I happened to be in the mood to donate something that cost me a couple of hundred thousand dollars, but what good would that do? You told me a few minutes ago you don’t have any money. An option to buy is worthless if you don’t have the cash to exercise it.”

      “I’m sure you could help me encourage your friend the CEO to donate the building. It’s not as if he wouldn’t be getting anything out of the deal, after all—”

      “Now you’re onto something,” Dez pointed out. “He’d still have my two hundred grand, so he’d be happy. You’d have the building, so you’d be happy. And I’d be left holding the bag. Unfortunately for your argument, that doesn’t make me look heroic. It makes me look stupid.”

      “Generous,”

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