he didn’t believe in fouling the nest. He never conducted liaisons with business contacts or their families. The world was his playground, and he’d found many willing partners. He didn’t fool around close to home.
A beautiful girl like her, there was probably a man in her life already.
And she was mouthy. Many American women were. Often a smart mouth on a woman repelled him, but Selina’s rosy lips were pretty enough that he’d prefer to silence her with a kiss.
Then again, here was Jerome Carrington. So, with a sigh, Kamar mentally classified the stunning Selina and her beautiful neck as off-limits.
But he could still talk to her, couldn’t he? “American women are usually such busy girls,” he told her. “It was kind of you to accompany your grandfather on this trip.”
She shrugged, and her low neckline dipped even further. “Grandpa Jerry thought I should get away.”
“Get away? From who or what?”
“I work for an ad agency, and we just presented one of our major clients with a new campaign.” Her smile was thin. “This was the first time I was responsible for the entire project.”
He didn’t care about her job, but girls liked it when one showed interest in their pastimes. “And what was this project about?”
“It’s an advertising campaign for a cereal called Corny Crunch.”
“Did you say horny crunch?” He gave her his most flirtatious smile.
“Like I haven’t heard that, oh, at least twenty times before.” Selina stirred her drink.
He’d try again. “What kind of, um, advertising campaign did you plan?”
“Breakdancing corn chips in cargo pants down to their ankles.” She grinned at him. A real smile this time, not a fake one.
Progress, he thought. “Very charming. But why would anyone over the age of twelve buy these horny crunchies?”
Her smile broadened. “They have lots of fiber and even some oats. That’ll lower your cholesterol. You ought to be thinking about that at your age.”
There was such a thing as too mouthy, Kamar discovered. “At my age? For your information, I have but twenty-eight years.”
“Oh, shouldn’t everyone think about maintaining good health?” Selina turned to her grandfather, who ambled closer, sipping whiskey from a cut crystal tumbler. “Grandpop, what do you think of Corny Crunch?”
“A great product,” he said. “Selina’s ad campaign will sell millions. Another coup for the marketing goddess.”
“Oh, so now you are a goddess,” Kamar said. “I should have known.”
She arched a perfectly plucked brow at him. “Why?”
“You have the demeanor of someone…exalted,” he said. “Goddess attitude, you might say.”
“Ouch.” Selina clapped a hand to her face with a mock frown. “I guess I deserved that.”
“You certainly did.” Her grandfather glowered at her.
Kamar smiled. “Speaking of business, when shall we begin?”
“How about tomorrow morning?” Jerome Carrington asked. “We’ll meet in the dining room at nine.”
“Aren’t there several restaurants in a resort like this one?” Selina asked.
“The barkeep will know.” Jerome caught the bartender’s eye. “Where’s the best place for breakfast?”
“There are a number of choices, sir. There are four restaurants and two cafés at La Torchere. The poolside café can become noisy with children at play, so I would recommend The Greenhouse for breakfast.”
“The Greenhouse?” Selina tilted her head to one side. “That sounds fun.”
Kamar frowned. “I do not know if I want to eat my breakfast in a greenhouse.”
“Why not?” Selina asked. “I’m sure they don’t grow potatoes in there.”
She caught the bartender’s eye, and both girls laughed. Azhib, he thought. Wonderful. Within a few hours of his arrival, he’d convinced two women he was a fool. And he was stuck here until a deal for the property could be struck.
“Do you know what’s going on here? Because I’m at sea.” Jerome looked from his granddaughter’s face to the bartender, and then to Kamar. “What’s this about potatoes?”
“Nothing,” Kamar said sourly. “The Greenhouse will be fine—9:00 a.m.?”
“I’ll make a reservation,” Jerome said, eyeing Kamar with an uneasy expression.
“Oh, no problem, sir.” Janis removed Kamar’s empty martini glass. “I’ll leave a note for the concierge before I go off shift. What would the name be?”
“The Asad party.” And without another word, Kamar stalked off.
“What bug’s up his rear?” Jerome asked.
“Maybe a potato bug,” Selina replied, and both women exploded with gales of laughter.
Chapter Two
Selina admired stability and safety, needed it, really. She worked hard to keep her life and everything in it well-organized. Her pumps, always leather and always polished to a dull glow, were neatly matched and hung two-by-two on her shoe tree in perfect order. She always bought bras with matching panties—two pairs, so one was always clean and at the ready—and folded them carefully in her lingerie drawer with their mates. Likewise, tap pants and camisoles. She bought outfits, not separates, and never ordered à la carte.
Grandpa Jerome, the only father she had and the most important person in her twenty-three-year-old life, was the opposite. Unless a maid picked up after him, his closet was total chaos. His secretary often remarked that she had a lifetime job because “Jerry doesn’t know where I keep the checkbook.” Indeed, his desk would remain a mountain of garbage if she didn’t arrange it.
Selina didn’t like the unexpected. Grandpa Jerry thrived on it.
Selina hated surprises. Grandpa Jerry liked to throw surprise parties and sweep her away on unplanned excursions. Like this one, to an exclusive resort on Florida’s Gulf Coast. Less than twelve hours ago, Grandpa Jerry had shot into her cubicle at VIP Publicity, grabbed her jacket, held it open for her and said, “Come on, little Sellie. Grandpa’s got a fun surprise for you.”
Since Selina had sought refuge in his home at age fifteen, Grandpa Jerry had said those words many times, and she’d come to trust that his surprises would be fun. Trips to the zoo, to museums, to shops. Sometimes the museums would be in Rome or the shops in Paris.
And now, her magic pixie of a grandfather, claiming she worked too hard, had swept Selina to Florida. On the plane, he’d admitted that he was brokering a real
