The Fox and the Heir [Bachelor For Sale Book 2] Read online

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  Whiskey Creek Press

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Copyright ©2007 by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  BACHELOR FOR SALE BOOK 2:

  THE FOX AND THE HEIR

  by

  Peggy Hunter

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Published by

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  Whiskey Creek Press

  PO Box 51052

  Casper, WY 82605-1052

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Copyright © 2007 by Peggy Hunter

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-60313-058-5

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Molly Courtright

  Editor: Chere Gruver

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Jo Ann.

  Thank you for being such a wonderful friend.

  Chapter 1

  "Twenty-five thousand, two hundred dollars is the last bid!"

  David Strand, you are one fucking idiot! How the hell did you get into this mess?

  "Do I hear twenty-five three?"

  The bright lights focused on the stage in the Hotel Gregoire grand ballroom blinded David as he tried to gaze out over the crowd.

  He tried to get his mind around it. One minute he was fucking the incredibly sexy blonde from the Grand River Children's Center and the next he was standing on the stage being auctioned off like a side of beef.

  "Twenty-five thousand, two hundred dollars going once."

  Shit. The blond bitch wasn't even all that good in the sack. What had possessed him to agree to being auctioned off at a four hundred dollar a plate benefit?

  Sure, it made for great publicity. David Strand, the most eligible bachelor in Toronto on the auction block to raise funds for charity. It made the headlines of every celebrity rag in the city. Unfortunately, it also dredged up old news ... how he'd walked away from his family's fortune shortly after his parents died in a car accident.

  "Twenty-five two hundred going twice!"

  Damn! If the auctioneer took any longer to make the sale final, David was going to kick his ever-loving ass.

  "Sold!"

  The crowd exploded into applause as David breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God! Now at least he could get the hell off the stage. Still, he couldn't help but wonder who...

  "Congratulations to Jayne Foxton!"

  David moaned inwardly.

  Oh fuck! Not her. Anyone but her!

  * * * *

  Jayne smiled as she gazed at her boss across the massive oak desk. As Jacob Strand's personal assistant for the past two years, she'd come to love the old codger, eccentric warts and all. Why he'd paid for her to attend the charity function in his place and given her carte blanche on what everyone knew would be a bidding war was anyone's guess.

  But Jayne had enjoyed the experience. For the first time in her life, she hobnobbed with the rich and famous and was able to bid on a man who wouldn't have given her a second glance under normal circumstances. It was just too bad she couldn't walk up on the stage to enjoy the moment. Instead, she waited for the people to applaud and made a quick exit, having done exactly as her boss had requested.

  Jayne had long since learned not to ask Jacob Strand too many questions. While he'd always been very kind, he kept his private life private. She knew enough never to ask.

  Still, Jayne had a sneaking suspicion Jacob had more in mind than being his usual unconventional self when he asked her to attend the bachelor auction. Somehow, Jacob expected buying his grandson at the auction would be the first step toward bringing him back into the family fold.

  She had to admit, it was the only reason she'd agreed to go to the auction in the first place. Jacob Strand, self-made billionaire, known and respected the world over for his investment savvy, had been estranged from his grandson for almost twenty years.

  The circumstances surrounding the estrangement were never discussed. All she knew was what the papers said in the society pages. His grandson walked away from the family business when he was eighteen, around the time his parents were killed in a car accident.

  Now that the old man was on the verge of turning eighty, she suspected he felt a need to bring his grandson back into his life. Hopefully, David would feel the same.

  Jayne pushed her glasses higher on her nose as she looked down at the clipboard on her lap. “You have a nine thirty appointment with Dresden Harcourt,” she said matter-of-factly.

  The old man snorted as he leaned back in his overstuffed chair and raised a cigar to his mouth. “Screw Harcourt,” he said as he lit a match and held it to the tip of his cigar. “We have more important matters to attend to."

  Jayne curled a fist over her mouth and coughed lightly.

  The old man's brows furrowed. He knew exactly what she was getting at. Smoke plumed over his head in a thick, grey cloud as he pulled the cigar from his mouth. “Don't chastise me, girl,” he said with a wide grin on his craggy face. “I'm celebrating."

  Jayne bowed her head and looked over the rim of her glasses. “I never said a word."

  "You didn't have to,” Jacob replied. “Just one glance of those pretty green eyes of yours says it all."

  Jayne cleared her throat. “Well, you did say you'd stop smoking."

  Jacob's brilliant white dentures clenched the butt of the cigar as he grinned at his personal assistant. “And I said I'd only smoke when I had something to celebrate."

  Jayne absently ran a hand over the front of her crisp white blouse as the other held the clipboard on her lap. “All right, sir,” she said respectfully. “Dare I ask what you're celebrating?"

  Jacob pried the cigar out of his mouth and offered a wide grin. “Your victory,” he replied.

  Jayne frowned. “My victory?"

  "Of course,” Jacob replied. “You purchased my grandson at the benefit last night. Now we're ready to set the wheels in motion."

  "We?” Jayne pulled her glasses off and placed them on the clipboard. “I'm sorry, sir,” she said. “I purchased David Strand on your behalf. I don't see how this affects me."

  Jacob grinned. “Then allow me to explain.” He winked just before he replaced the cigar in his mouth. “You are the winning bidder. That puts you squarely in Davey's life. I expect you to bring my grandson back to take his rightful place at the helm of my empire."

  If the situation hadn't been so ludicrous, Jayne might have laughed. Instead she
calmly placed her glasses back on her face and leveled her gaze on her boss. “Exactly how do you expect me to do that?"

  "With your feminine wiles, of course,” Jacob replied.

  This time Jayne did laugh. It was either that or cry. Judging by the look of determination on the old man's face, she wasn't going to escape the situation easily.

  Exactly how would Jayne use her feminine wiles to draw David Strand to his grandfather? It wasn't like she was a sexy siren or anything. In fact, she'd become used to being called “Plain Jayne” over the years. So much so that she was quite comfortable with it.

  Everything about Jayne was plain. She didn't wear makeup, kept her copper-colored hair pulled back in a conservative bun. She wore dark-rimmed glasses and always dressed conservatively. Even Jayne's personal life was plain, from her small, conventional apartment to her boyfriend, Tom, who was always ultra calm and sensible.

  Jayne hated complications, so much so that she'd detour several miles to avoid them. Even her job as Jacob's personal assistant was devoid of complications ... or at least it was until now.

  When it came to feminine wiles, Jayne knew she didn't have any. And that was the way she liked it. At twenty-seven, her life was exactly as she'd planned, slow, easy and not a single complication to muck things up.

  And she had no intention of starting now.

  "Sir,” she said as she looked across the desk at her boss. “I've been working for you for two years."

  Jacob nodded. “And you've done a tremendous job."

  Jayne swallowed hard. “You know I'd do whatever it takes to help you achieve your goals. That's why I agreed to buy your grandson on your behalf."

  The old man's dark eyes sparkled as he nodded lightly. “I know that, Jayne."

  "But, sir,” she began, not entirely sure what she'd say next. She hesitated briefly before she continued. “I don't think I can bring your grandson back to you.” She pressed the clipboard against her chest. “And, quite frankly, I don't think it's fair of you to ask this of me."

  Jacob's eyes darkened as he pulled the cigar from his mouth and leaned forward in his chair. “You've never let me down before,” he said as he absently tapped the cigar over the ashtray on the desk. “I sent you to the bachelor auction to buy my grandson and I paid a handsome price for him."

  Jayne's heart squeezed. “I realize that. And I've provided you with an opportunity to see him."

  Jacob chuckled. “You expect me to go on a date with my grandson?"

  "Well, no, not a date. Just show up instead of me. He'll have no choice but to talk to you."

  "That'll never work. I want my grandson to come to me and you're going to bring him."

  Jayne shook her head. “I don't know what you expect me to do,” she said. “David Strand would never be attracted to someone like me."

  Jacob reclined in his chair and grinned. “So become the kind of woman he would be attracted to,” he said simply.

  Jayne quelled the urge to cry. So much for her uncomplicated job. She shook her head as she got up from her chair. “I'm sorry, sir,” she said softly. “I can't help you this time."

  Jacob placed his cigar in the ashtray and looked at her. His eyes softened and began to glisten. Jayne's heart clenched. Is he on the verge of tears?

  Jacob bowed his head lightly, his voice rough and low. “I'm an old man, Jayne,” he said. “And I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. The biggest one was when I let David walk away. I need to set things right, the sooner the better."

  Jayne felt a sense of dread wash over her. She held the clipboard tighter against her chest as she stared down at the old man behind the desk. Her voice shook lightly as she spoke. “Can you tell me why?"

  Jacob nodded as he crushed the cigar out. He smiled sadly. “Sit down, Jayne. I'll explain."

  Chapter 2

  David Strand paced the length of his penthouse living room. He'd never been known as a patient man and tonight seemed like the ultimate test. One which he knew he was failing.

  After the bachelor auction two nights ago, his benefactor quickly disappeared after making the exuberantly outlandish payment. While the auctioneer and audience fully expected Jayne Foxton to take a bow, he'd been left standing on the stage alone.

  The moment he heard her name, he knew who she was ... his grandfather's personal assistant. He wasn't surprised she hadn't stuck around for the accolades. He'd seen her over the past two years at a distance. Mild and meek, certainly not someone who'd want to be in the limelight. Still, David was embarrassed to find himself standing alone when he should have been greeting his date.

  And no one, certainly not the little redheaded mouse his grandfather called a personal assistant, embarrassed David Strand.

  So when Mrs. Thyme, his secretary, announced his grandfather's office had touched base that morning and expected him to entertain Ms. Foxton this evening, David pulled out all the stops. The woman wasn't going to know what hit her. If his grandfather planned to use a woman to draw him back into the Strand fold, he was going to discover he'd made an unwise choice.

  You don't send a rabbit to deliver dinner to a fox. The advice his grandfather once shared echoed in David's mind.

  David shook his head. It had been several years since he'd last had contact with his grandfather. Was it possible the old man was losing his marbles in his old age? Did he think Jayne Foxton could reach him? Did he really think it would take so little to undo the past?

  When the phone rang, he picked it up on the second ring.

  "Ms. Foxton is on the way up, sir."

  David took a deep breath. “Thanks, Putman,” he said, acknowledging the security guard before he replaced the receiver.

  All right, old man. Let the game begin.

  David walked around the living room quickly. He checked the bottle of champagne chilling on the coffee table, turned down the lights to a soft glow and flipped the stereo on. He smiled as various speakers, strategically placed around his penthouse, set the right tone for the evening. He'd just retrieved two crystal flutes when the doorbell chimed. He placed them on the coffee table and vaulted up the five steps to the door. David shoved his hand into his pocket and felt the two foil packets. Yep, he'd thought of everything.

  * * * *

  Jayne was running her fingers over the tight French braid at the back of her head when the door swung open. She gulped when she peered up at the man standing just inside the dimly lit apartment.

  Much taller than her five-foot-seven frame, David Strand towered over her. Deep blue eyes slid over her, from her head to her ridiculously high heels. His chiseled jaw flexed slightly as he ran a hand threw his sandy blond hair. “Well, well,” he said, his deep, husky voice floating over her. “I see my grandfather prepared you well."

  Jayne swallowed hard. She took a deep breath before she replied, “I don't know what you mean,” she said softly.

  Oh, but Jayne knew exactly what the younger Strand meant. She'd spent five excruciating hours in the hands of hair stylists, make-up artists and the owner of the finest designer clothes store in Toronto. She'd been poked and prodded, yanked, whirled and mostly, whipped into the kind of woman Jacob expected would attract his grandson. Even her glasses were replaced with contacts, something that had Jayne blinking all afternoon.

  The end result was nothing short of a masterpiece; at least in Jacob's opinion. When Jayne looked in the mirror, the only thing she saw was herself made up to look attractive. A silk purse made from a sow's ear was still a sow's ear no matter how one looked at it.

  David stepped back from the door and swept his arm, inviting her in. As she passed him, his voice coursed over her. “What I mean is Grandpa's little Jayne is plain no more."

  Jayne ran a hand over the glittery emerald gown she wore as she cast her gaze over the living room. Soft music floated all around as the low lights focused on an overstuffed black leather sofa. Lit candles were on either side of a silver champagne ice bucket on the massive jet-black coffee table. “You've g
one all out,” she said nervously. Exactly what does the guy have planned for the evening?

  David smiled as he escorted her down the steps. He walked to the coffee table and pulled the linen-wrapped bottle out of the bucket. “Well,” he said as he slowly twisted the cork, “I wanted to impress you.” The cork dislodged with a pop and flew upwards. David reached for the crystal flutes and poured champagne into them. As he handed a glass to her, he smiled. “After all, you paid a lot of money to spend an evening with me.” His eyes fell to her cleavage and darkened to deep cobalt as he tipped his glass to his mouth.

  Jayne's hand flew upward in an effort to cover her chest. Damn this dress. It pushed her breasts up and made them look like small mountains. She'd hated it on sight. Why had she let Jacob talk her into this?

  David chuckled softly. “Oh please, don't. That dress was made to draw attention to your breasts and, I must say, it does the job very nicely."

  Jayne felt her face flush under the layers of makeup. “Well, if you don't mind, I wish you'd look elsewhere. You're making me very uncomfortable."

  "As you wish,” he said as his gaze slowly slid down her body to the fabric clinging over her abdomen and then, lower still, over her hips to the center of her being. Thank God the dress flared at her hips. Her thighs quivered slightly as her core pooled with moisture at David's unabashed gaze.

  She pressed her thighs together in an effort to quell the rising heat. The last damn thing she needed was to be attracted to David Strand. She was on a mission. She must not fail. Jacob was counting on her.

  She took a deep breath and moved toward the sofa. “Do you mind if I sit down?” God, if she didn't sit down soon, she'd fall down.

  "Of course,” David replied as she took a seat at one end of the sofa.

  Jayne slowly leaned on the arm and peered up at him. Whoa! He looked a lot more imposing standing over her. She pointed at the far end of the sofa. “Join me?"

  To her dismay, David rounded the coffee table and took a seat at her side. His leg brushed her thigh, sending shock waves up her spine, as he stretched out beside her. He twisted his torso and placed an arm behind her on the back of the sofa. Jayne pressed herself against the arm of the sofa in an effort move away slightly. The move only made David slide closer.