coat over black pants and sensible shoes. Normally, he would have had his bodyguard deal with anyone who approached him, but she reminded him of himself ten years ago, when Suminski Stuff was in its infancy. When he wore simple, practical clothes, hoping he didn’t stand out for his lack of sophistication, and when he was trying to raise money from investors to start his business.
Still, he hadn’t gotten this far by being stupid. He’d texted his executive assistant and told her to get everything she could on Kristen Anderson of Grennady, and that’s what the call in Spanish had been about. This woman really did work for Princess Eva.
If Grennady’s royal family had sent her to him, there was a reason. He might not want to be part of a renaissance precipitated by a near coup, but he wouldn’t mind having a desperate country at his mercy.
He said, “All right. I’ll admit that the most popular places to locate a corporation in the United States are getting crowded.” He speared her with a look, delving deeply into those pretty green eyes, knowing she wasn’t very experienced at negotiating and wondering why a princess would send her. Surely, more astute negotiators or even public relations people would do a better job.
Especially since he knew Alex Sancho, Princess Eva’s husband, didn’t like him.
Her eyes brightened. “So there is a chance you’d relocate?”
The sparkle in her eyes hit him like a punch to the gut, surprising him. Those soft green orbs were little mirrors to her happy soul. And that lush, kiss-me mouth? It took a stronger man than he was not to notice its plump fullness.
Still, he shouldn’t be looking. He only dated sophisticates. Women who took lovers, who weren’t seeking happily-ever-after, as this bubbly, obviously naïve woman would be.
But the feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away. It kept telling him that something about her was important. And he should pay attention.
He pointed at the plane. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
She preceded him up the short stack of steps into his jet. When she gasped, he laughed.
“The princess never takes you on her jet?”
“Up until last year, she didn’t do much government business. Actually, she didn’t even have bodyguards.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to waste these next few hours gossiping?”
“No.” She waved her hands. “Sorry. I know your time is precious.”
“Let’s just buckle in and you can start your pitch once we’re at cruising altitude.”
As he spoke, his second-in-command and best friend, Jason Wilson, stepped into the corridor from the office in the back.
Short, twenty or thirty pounds overweight, but looking expensive and self-assured in his three-piece suit, Jason said, “We have a problem.”
Dean motioned for Kristen to take a seat and buckle in. “I suppose we do if you flew the whole way to Europe rather than phone me.”
Jason caught Dean’s arm and moved him to the back of the plane before he whispered, “While you were in meetings yesterday, I got word from a few investment firms that our stock’s about to be downgraded and they’re going to advise investors to sell.”
Forgetting all about Kristen Anderson, he gaped at Jason. “Sell?”
“Tech Junkie ran an article about you. They suggested that the new product is late because we don’t have one.”
“That’s absurd!”
“Oh, it gets worse. They said you’re so far removed from real life and so far removed from real people that it’s a miracle you came up with the original operating system and games that you did. They claim being out of touch with real people means you can’t figure out what they want because you’re not one of them.”
“How I live has nothing to do with my abilities.”
“Not according to the pundits quoted in the article. They say your reign is over. That you had five or six good ideas and exhausted them.”
The urge to shake his head at the stupidity of some people was nearly overwhelming. He was a genius, for crying out loud. Of course he didn’t live like a normal person.
“I spent my childhood poor, looking for ways to entertain myself. I know software. I know games.”
“They say that’s what got you here. But your ideas are gone.”
He tossed his hands in frustration. “We have a fantastic series of games in the works!”
“In the works for three years. Too long in this market.” Jason snapped his fingers. “Everything’s all about speed these days.”
“The series has to be perfect before I can even talk about it, let alone roll it out.”
“Then you’re pretty much screwed.” Jason’s gaze strayed to Kristen. “Who’s that?”
He didn’t like explaining himself to anybody. Not even his best friend—especially since he wasn’t entirely clear why he was willing to hear Kristen Anderson’s pitch. Every time he looked at her, he got a “there’s an opportunity here” feeling. Which made no sense since Alex Sancho was married to her boss. Couple that with the way he kept noticing all the wrong things about her, and being around her was tempting fate. Which was absurd. He did not tempt fate, push envelopes or even take risks. He was cautious. That’s why he was rich.
Yet here she was in his jet.
He held back a wince as he said, “She’s a girl I met at the hotel.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Deciding to let honest and genuine Kristen explain this, he turned and started up the aisle to the four plush seats. “Kristen, this is Jason Wilson, my second in command.”
Kristen jumped off her seat and extended her hand. “Kristen Anderson. I work for Princess Eva of Grennady.”
Jason’s gaze walked back to Dean. “Prince Alex’s wife’s assistant is your new girlfriend?”
She laughed. “No. I’m not his girlfriend. My country wants your company to consider relocating to Grennady.”
The pilot’s voice came over the speaker, advising passengers to buckle seat belts and get ready for takeoff.
Dean caught the gaze of Kristen’s happy green eyes. An unwanted tingle of attraction zipped through him, but so did that damned feeling that she, somehow, was important.
He said, “You buckle in,” then he faced Jason. “Let’s take this discussion to the office.”
He followed his friend down the aisle to the compact room. As they fastened their seat belts, Jason said, “So, who is she really?”
Dean focused his attention on his cantankerous buckle so he didn’t have to look at Jason. “She told you. She’s from Grennady. Her country wants us to consider locating
