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  Richard didn't avoid the press because he couldn't handle them. He was handling them quite well now, like a pro.

  No, he avoided the press because he simply didn't want to talk to them.

  Until now. Richard faced her, holding out his hand, palm up.

  Cameras clicked. The crowd buzzed.

  Cara felt the irrational need to run.

  She couldn't. She said she would stand by his side. And she always kept her word, even to herself.

  Cara looked into Richard's brown eyes for strength. He winked, laughter lines fanning out from the corners, and his lips spread in that little boy grin. A secret joke between them. She smiled back and placed her hand on his.

  His hand trembled slightly. Not as confident as he looked.

  His trembling strengthened her resolve. He needed her and she wouldn't fail him. Together, they could handle this.

  "It's simple, Fred. I'm here to support the best real estate agent in the country. That's the full extent of my contribution.” They stood side by side, holding hands.

  "Could you clarify?” someone had the nerve to ask.

  Cara couldn't see who, as she was looking at Richard. The best real estate agent in the country. He'd said it proudly, as if it didn't bother him, her being a saleswoman. Like he was pleased with what she did.

  "Can you clarify?” Peterson mocked. “Are you blind, Smucker? The damn fool's in love."

  Big shoulders bumped into Richard's body so hard that Cara felt the impact. “Hell of a sound bite, Thompson.” The developer's volume lowered for once.

  Blushing, Cara tucked into Richard's side, his arm around her waist as they smiled for the cameras. The tightness stretching his back muscles told her that yes, he needed her. Cara took over answering the questions as best she could.

  * * * *

  "They're gone.” Bleary-eyed, Richard stared out at the bare pavement. No chairs, the rental company picked them up. No people, the media gorged their fill then left, buzzing and satisfied.

  Why hadn't he thought of that before?

  Because he hadn't cared to figure out a solution. Not until Cara.

  "They are."

  "Then I can do this.” He brought her close, her body folding into his, and kissed Cara soundly, leisurely, the way she should be kissed.

  She opened up to him, a generous thank you for a rather painless public relations extravaganza. He'd do a press conference every day if this were the result.

  Her fingers threaded through his hair, making his skull tingle. Her scent filled his nostrils until all he smelled was her. Her hips pressed against...

  "Lord, Cara.” Catching his breath, he leaned his forehead against hers. “What you do to me.” He was seconds away from laying her on the ground and taking her right there. Now that would be front page news.

  "What I would like to do to you.” She played with his shirt buttons.

  If it was anything like what he was thinking, there would be electricity. “Cara."

  "Your bed has a box spring now.” Oh, Lord, she was thinking exactly what he was.

  His bed, her naked. No. There was something he hadn't done yet. “I never thanked you for the apartment. It is...” What was the word? A home? That sounded hokey.

  She peeked up at him from underneath mascara blackened eyelashes. Richard preferred to see her natural gold dancing on the tips. “You like it?"

  She had to ask? “Love it.” He kissed that adorable ski jump nose. “And the pen.” He tapped his chest pocket. “And most of all, you."

  Which got him another long, passionate kiss. As Richard was calculating which was closer, the apartment or the condo, Cara paused and drew back. “I almost forgot. The daisies. I loved them."

  "Did you?” Her appreciation pleased him, but it could wait. He'd rather be kissing her.

  "Of course, they're my favorite.” Or touching her. What was her hand doing? Traveling down his chest?

  "I know.” He sucked in his gut when her hand stopped on his waist. The daisies. Think about the daisies. “Did I love you?” When Shirley found out Cara's favorite flower, she also told him about the childhood game.

  "You did not.” Cara played with his belt.

  "Damn defective flowers,” Richard swore.

  "Were they?” She chuckled, low and husky, two fingers slipping inside the waistband of his pants.

  "They were,” he squeaked. Enough teasing. He grabbed her close again. His body was thinking about that new box spring and her, naked on the mattress, her blonde hair spilled around her head like a halo, blue eyes dreamy, those white teeth gleaming.

  "I never believed in love at first sight.” She fitted her head underneath his chin.

  "I still don't."

  Mistake.

  Her spine straightened, her skull cracking against his jawbone. Damn that hurt, but not enough to move away.

  "I loved you long before then."

  "Oh...” She relaxed again. “Love at first pie?” Cara nestled further into him, Richard hadn't thought that possible, and any pain from his injury evaporated.

  When had he first loved her?

  "I don't usually send strange men meat products,” he confessed.

  "Oh, Richard.” Great answer. She balanced on her tippy toes, bringing their lips together. Richard took full advantage, swinging Cara back until she grasped onto his shoulders. He loomed over her and gave her his best wolfish leer.

  "You were mine from the start, Cara."

  To which she merely laughed, wiggling in his arms as he kissed her. Feminine, soft ... and his.

  All his. The apartment it was. They'd take her car, since his wouldn't start after spending the week dormant. A taxi brought him to the groundbreaking. Groundbreaking. Oh, hell. “You have to work?"

  "No.” Her blue eyes shone. “Wendy volunteered to take all the appointments for the afternoon. Said she felt bad about giving you a rough time."

  "She should.” He didn't care. “The phone'll be ringing off the hook, now.” Did she know that he plugged her status as the best agent in the city deliberately?

  Not that it mattered, Cara was back to playing with his lapels. “It always is.” Those busy, busy hands. “You have to work, Master Spy?"

  "I don't have to do anything.” Who'd have thought he'd be happy to be a billionaire? “I don't work for anyone."

  "Shirley?"

  Richard laughed. “Okay, I do work for Shirley. Lucky for me, even that slave driver gave me the afternoon off."

  Cara brushed her hips against his and his lower body tightened. “You mean, lucky for me."

  She rubbed against him. His mind went blank. What were they discussing again?

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  Step Eight

  Obtaining Resales & Referrals: Selling more to the same customer and/or obtaining new prospects from customers. Successful salespeople have high resale & referral rates.

  Shirley put her aching feet up under the table on the chair across from her. It had been a long day, happy, but long.

  "Plain apple pie, Richie?” Mrs. Thompson, Clarice she insisted she be called, chided the groom. “Couldn't you have gotten something fancier? The Mayor's here."

  "Not to mention Blake Rexdall.” Shirley eyed the handsome man, recently returned from his African movie shoot, kissing the bride's cheek. She knew now why the silver-tongued charmer had gone through two wives. What she'd do to be number three.

  "And Blake Rexdall.” Richard's mom nodded. “Thank you, Shirley."

  "Yeah, thank you, Shirley.” Her boss was not as appreciative. “Mom, we have other desserts and I happen to like apple pie."

  "Not to mention the apple pie baker,” Shirley helped out again.

  "No, I like apple pie. I love the apple pie baker.” The movie star's hand moved down Cara's bare back. “Whom I had better rescue.” And Richard was off, cutting through the crowd with that single-minded determination he was known for in business.

  Although Shirley wouldn't have appreciated the r
escue herself, not having had a male hand on that part of her anatomy in a while, Cara did. Her eyes lit up, the smile transforming from polite to genuine.

  In a mirrored response, Richard's lips curled, pride tinged with a touch of wonder illuminating his face.

  Shirley had never seen him this happy. She sighed with satisfaction. And to think it was all due to her. “They do love each other."

  "They do,” Clarice agreed, taking another bite of her second piece of pie. “Cara's such a good girl."

  Meaning ... “She calls you."

  "Everyday. Her own mother insists on it. Wish I had thought of that."

  "You could have insisted. Richard wouldn't have done it.” They watched as Cara reached up to plant a quick kiss on Richard's jaw when she thought no one else was looking.

  "Like his father that way. I could never tell him what to do, either.” Clarice's eyes grew wistful.

  Clarice obviously missed her husband. It would be difficult to celebrate a day like this without him. Shirley knew that she wished, no, no thinking of him. “Not that it stopped you."

  Clarice's laugh reminded her of her boss's, full and heartfelt. “Yes, not that it stopped me."

  "What are you two ladies laughing about now?” A pint-sized redhead stood before them, hands on her hips, a mock frown on her pretty pixy face.

  "Certainly not laughing about your lack of a date, Kay-Kay,” Clarice scolded her niece. “How come you couldn't find some nice young man to bring to your cousin's wedding?"

  "Oh, Momma C.” Kaylin bounced around to plant a kiss on the top of her Aunt's head. “Perhaps I don't know any nice young men."

  "Don't give me that garbage, girlie.” Mrs. Thompson waved an overly ringed hand. “Couldn't one of your nice rancher men?"

  Shirley hid a smile as the girl groaned. “I explained that."

  "Your explanation made no sense. How can you work with brands and markets and not know at least one rancher?"

  Green eyes met Shirley's and they shook their heads in agreement. There was no use. Once Clarice got a notion in her brain, there was no correcting her. Although, she had finally stopped calling Shirley, “S.” At least to her face.

  Some raunchy, burlesque music filled the rented hall, capturing their attention. Cara waved the daisy-filled bouquet above her head. Richard watched his bride, bemused, standing behind the DJ, as women gathered near the podium, jockeying for the prime positions.

  "They're getting ready to toss the bouquet,” Shirley pointed out.

  A cloud passed across Kaylin's sunshine face so quickly that if Shirley hadn't been wearing her glasses, she would have missed it.

  "Try to catch it this time, Kay-Kay,” Clarice advised.

  "No this time. I'm passing on the mad scramble. The last wedding, I got a nasty scratch.” A lie, Shirley easily determined.

  "You have to.” Then Clarice's attention was diverted. “Yoo-hoo, Fred, come here.” She waved the young newsman-slash-wedding photographer over. A freebie granted in exchange for exclusivity.

  "Mrs. Thompson,” Fred smiled. He looked halfway presentable in his tux, a change from his usual rumpled self. His posture, however, still left much to be desired. Continual slouch.

  "Fred, tell Kay-Kay she has to try for the bouquet."

  The newsman blinked a couple times at the girl, a dazed expression on his face. There was something. Shirley's matchmaking instincts tingled. “It's only for single women."

  "Oh, I'm single.” Shirley liked the way Kaylin's face flushed as she avoided looking at Fred directly. Unless she was losing her touch, the attraction went both ways.

  "Then you should—"

  "And I plan to stay that way.” She cut him off, waving an unadorned hand.

  "Not if I can help it,” he muttered just loud enough for Shirley to hear.

  "Thankfully, you, Mr. Wedding Photographer...” slightly slanted eyes flashed, “have nothing to do with my marital status. Not now, not ever."

  Foolish of the girl, Shirley thought, to throw down a challenge in front of this bull dog, unless she wanted him to take it up. Hmmm ... that was an interesting concept.

  "Forever is a long time.” Fred cocked an eyebrow in a rather more dashing way than Shirley thought him capable. “Don't you know there're no absolutes in life?"

  "I know you should be taking photos, Camera Man.” Clarice gasped and Kaylin herself seemed taken aback by her rudeness. That prompted her to run away. “And if you'll excuse me, I see Wendy."

  "Kaylin.” Shirley stopped the girl. She couldn't leave now. This was getting good.

  "Sorry,” she mumbled. “Asking about her new house.” She was gone in a flounce of rainbow-colored fabric.

  Leaving Fred staring after her like she was some mythical being.

  He was clearly intrigued. “I wonder what her story is?” He paused, undecided for only a moment before stalking after her, camera in hand.

  Shirley caught Clarice's eye.

  "I know what you're thinking, but there's no use,” Richard's mom hummed as she played with the pie crust. “None of them last longer than a date or two."

  Something was wrong, then. Richard was the most steadfast person Shirley knew. His cousin couldn't be that different. “Her mom?"

  "Dead. Breast cancer. My sister passed away when Kay-Kay was fourteen."

  That might explain it. Perhaps she felt that she too could die young. “Her father?"

  A blush highlighted Clarice's cheekbones. “Don't know who he is."

  Shirley gazed across the room. Kaylin made a show of visiting all the aunties, avoiding the feminine tussle on the dance floor. Poor, motherless child. “An older brother or sister?"

  "She's an only child. Since we took turns caring for her, Richard's close to her, as are her other cousins, but—"

  "Richard's useless for finding out what's wrong.” Shirley dismissed that avenue of information. Her boss had required help with his own love life. “I wonder; does she need an assistant?"

  "I don't know.” It was a distracted answer as Clarice's face wrinkled in dismay. “What is my son doing now?"

  Richard had every pocket in his tuxedo turned inside out. “He's lost something.” Shirley glanced to his right where Cara posed with the lucky recipient of the bouquet. “And his new wife is busy.” She was needed. Still. That pleased Shirley. “Be back in a jiff."

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  About Kimber

  Kimber Chin writes romance novels set in the exciting world of business, a world she continues to play in daily. She is happily married to her first and only love, a naturally talented (and cute) salesguy. They spend any spare moments they have traveling and starting new ventures.

  More details on Kimber Chin and her novels can be found at businessromance.com/

  Visit our website for our growing catalogue of quality books.

  www.champagnebooks.com

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  Visit www.champagnebooks.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.

  Table of Contents

  Other Books By Kimber Chin

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Step One

  Step Two

  Step Three

  Step Four

  Step Five

  Step Six

  Step Seven

  Step Eight

  About Kimber

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