the city.
He moved to his heavy glass desk and checked his email. He really did have plenty to keep him busy today and tonight and tomorrow. But his mind kept wandering back to Julia. Her sleepy eyes and slow smile. A man could lose his head to a smile like that.
“How did it go?” Mal, his younger sister—his only sister—stuck her head in, interrupting his thoughts. She was wearing the wireless earpiece that kept her in constant contact with her cell phone and meant she was liable to spin away midsentence to start a new conversation. But right now she simply watched him with knowing brown eyes. “Oh, my God.” She plopped down in one of the low-slung visitor’s chairs, kicking up her needle-thin heels. “Are you smiling? After that fit you threw when Dad insisted on going through with the purchase?”
He brought out his best older-brother I’m-in-charge-here expression. “It wasn’t a fit.” It had been a well-reasoned, logical attempt to change Gus’s mind. Donovan hadn’t even stomped his foot. “We had a discussion.”
“Right.” He never had managed much success in pulling anything over on his younger sister, but that didn’t stop him from trying. “So what happened?”
Donovan shook off thoughts of rosebud lips and sexy curves. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Not what I asked.” Mal raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t have to do everything yourself. I’m here now. I can help.”
“I’m not doing everything myself.” He wasn’t. Hell, he didn’t even have a signed contract. “I’m just letting you know that I have everything under control.” Including his libido. Good thing he was seeing Tatiana tonight. The tall platinum blonde would be the perfect antidote to the discomforting feelings coursing through him.
Mal rolled her eyes in the same way she’d been doing since she was ten. “Whatever, Donovan.”
“I’m not trying to keep you out of the loop.” Or he was learning not to. Over the past couple of years, he’d gotten used to being the only Ford child heavily involved in the family business and the one their father relied on. Owen had never shown any interest beyond doing enough to collect a paycheck and, until their father’s heart attack, Mal had been living in Aruba with her fiancé, Travis, running a beach bistro. But Mal had flown home immediately after getting the call and had stayed, taking on the role of marketing and media-relations director for the company. And there had been plenty of times since then that Donovan had been grateful for her support. Not only was she a whiz at the job, but she was also someone he could count on to make good business decisions. “I’ll ask if I need help.”
“No, you won’t. You always think you need to do everything yourself.” Mal pulled out her smartphone, tapping something on the screen. An email pinged on Donovan’s computer in response. “The projections for Dad’s little restaurant and my media plan when we’re ready to relaunch.”
He and Mal had discussed the plan in depth last night. Her plan was three step. First, the announcement of the sale. Followed by a short article highlighting the new look and extolling the exciting new path La Petite Bouchée was on. Finished with a personalized interview showcasing their chef. Donovan felt another flicker of attraction as Julia’s face flashed through his mind.
“When will we be ready to go?”
Donovan shoved Julia’s dark eyes out of his mind. They wouldn’t be ready to go until they had said chef’s signature on a contract. “I’ll let you know.”
But rather than nodding and accepting his information as gospel, Mal frowned. “No, I’m going to need more than that. Dates, decisions.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “We can’t hold off indefinitely. No one is going to write about the purchase two months after the fact.”
He knew she was right. He also knew that they couldn’t move forward without Julia’s consent. “Then we come up with a new strategy.”
She stared at him with that skewering glare she was so good at. “You thought this was a great plan this morning. What happened?”
“Nothing.” Which was the truth. No signed contract. No verbal one. Just a promise that they’d meet in a week and that sizzle of attraction.
Mal scowled, her earlier good humor disappearing. But she’d been like that lately. Quick to grow irritated over small details. About the same time she’d returned from a visit to Aruba no longer wearing the sapphire ring Travis had given her. “Then what am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for you to dole out information? When, Donovan? I need to know when to start contacting my people, dropping hints about an exclusive and setting up other events.”
He rubbed his temple. “I know. Let’s discuss later.”
“When?”
He knew Mal wouldn’t leave until she’d pinned him down. It was just one of the many reasons she was so good at her job. He made a decision. “First thing tomorrow morning. You and me.” They could pick some hard dates and make decisions based on the assumption that Julia would have signed the contract by next week. He didn’t want to consider the fact that Julia might turn him down.
“You and me and coffee,” Mal agreed. She tapped on her phone again. “Should we invite Owen?”
“Why?” Donovan loved his brother even though he was regularly annoyed by him, but Owen was not a businessman. “What’s he going to do? Offer to sleep with the reporter?”
Mal smirked, some of her earlier good mood returning. “Oh, I don’t think you should be throwing any stones, brother.”
“Me?” Donovan enjoyed the company of women. A lot. But he was hardly the Romeo his brother was. Donovan doubted Owen had ever gone out with the same woman twice in a row and he regularly juggled multiple lady friends. Donovan was a one-woman-at-a-time guy. It was just that he hadn’t met a woman who made him want to give up all others forever. Nothing wrong with that.
“Yes, you.” Mal shrugged. “Hey, maybe you’d find the reporter so appealing that you wouldn’t be able to help yourself, and the great story with excellent placement on the front page would just be a bonus.”
“You would pimp me out for the family business?”
Mal considered that and then shook her head. “You’re right. It would be wrong of me.”
“Exactly.” Now, if she wanted to pimp him out to convince the new chef to sign...
“I’d pimp out Owen. He’s much prettier.”
Donovan snorted.
“I STILL CAN’T believe you refused to sign.” Sasha stared at her with wide green eyes, looking impossibly innocent though Julia knew that to be far from true. Still, Sasha’s innocence or lack thereof wasn’t the point here.
They were holed up in a corner booth at Elephants, a destination Julia hadn’t chosen and wasn’t comfortable with. But when she’d mentioned to Sasha that perhaps they should find another place to have a bite to eat and a drink to unwind, Sasha had overruled her since they were now part of the Ford family group of establishments.
Julia didn’t know about that, but she was
