That wouldn’t be happening. Tonight, he had two missions: to discuss business with Stijn, and to find Greer and apologize for being an ass. Those things were the only reasons he’d taken time out of his busy schedule to pop in to Vegas and show up at this party.
The entire thing was a sham. Prospectus magazine’s Businessman of the Year? It was well known among elite circles that it was a lot like one of the Hollywood “Walk of Fame” stars—you paid to play. They’d write puff pieces about how incredible his company was and how business was booming, and it was all to raise the profile of a company that was otherwise sagging and in trouble.
Asher knew this, because he had done it last year as a last-ditch effort to save his company, OutSource Everything. He’d taken a chunk of the money Stijn had sent his way, bought a ton of PR, and made a few risky investments in the hopes of a quick payoff. It had all worked out beautifully, and his company was now doing better than ever. Asher had doubled his fortune.
Now that he knew Stijn was in trouble, he was here to help. It was the least he could do after the man had bailed his ass out, no questions asked.
And then there was Greer. Greer, who’d woken him up from his self-destructive spiral. Whose sweet offering at the party had turned into a nightmare. He’d lost her friendship, and he hadn’t even realized how much it had meant to him. Losing her made him realize he was pissing away friendships he cherished and valued, and that it was time to sack up. He’d eased off the throttle at work, no longer spending sixteen hours a day at the office. He’d stopped drinking entirely, and he was working on rebuilding friendships that had become strained over the past two years, since he’d broken up with Donna and things went into the crapper.
He didn’t even miss Donna anymore. Now, Greer? Greer he missed. He hated that there were no more Monday lunches. He hated that he missed that soft, shy smile of hers, as if she were sharing something special with him when she was pleased. Yeah, Greer he missed, but not Donna.
That was probably the strangest part of all. Donna had been a big part of his life for over ten years, ever since he was sixteen. Her sudden betrayal had gutted him, along with her casual declaration that she no longer loved him and the fact that she moved to Australia to be with her new lover. He’d felt completely hollowed out, as if there was nothing left inside. He’d felt that way for over a year, and every day waking up without Donna at his side had seemed like an exercise in pain.
Somewhere during the past few months, though, that pain had gone away, and he hadn’t even realized it. Donna wasn’t the person he’d fallen in love with anymore, and he’d been too wrapped up in other things to notice it. Now, oddly enough, when he thought about happiness, instead of Donna’s flaming red hair and boisterous laugh, he pictured Greer and her small, quiet smiles that seemed almost reluctant to show themselves.
She had to be here tonight. He wanted to talk to her. If nothing else, to apologize for the way he’d acted. He knew she was avoiding him, and it bothered him. It bothered him that he’d taken advantage of a friend, and that he’d been such an asshole to someone who was nothing but kind to him. Who’d been supporting him since day one, and who’d always had time for him even when the entire world seemed to want to forget his name. She’d always been there for him, and he wanted to be there for her.
He wanted to fix this thing between them.
And, okay, maybe take her out for lunch or get their Mondays scheduled again. But that was pure selfishness talking because he missed her. Most of all, he just wanted to know that Greer was okay with things and he didn’t want her to hate him.
Asher walked the party, looking for a small figure in plain clothing and big glasses. Everywhere he looked, though, there was no sign of Greer. She was Stijn’s daughter, wasn’t she? Surely she’d be here for her father’s award. He mingled for a bit, chatting with acquaintances and scanning the crowd. Lots of scantily clad Dutchgirls. No sign of Greer. That was . . . fucking disappointing.
He was just about to circle through the party again when he saw Stijn Janssen off to one side, talking to a politician. Stijn had his arm around a perky blonde in purple, two identical girls flanking them. Now was as good a time as any to talk to the man. He finished his bottle of water, set it on a nearby table, and approached the small group. As Asher moved in, the politician left, and Stijn’s gaze went to him.
“Mr. Janssen.” Asher extended his hand, putting on his best people-love-me grin. “Great party. Thanks for inviting me.” He nodded at the blondes, one of whom had started twirling her hair and eyeing him with a hungry look. “Ladies.”
To his surprise, Stijn gave him a cool look. “Do I know you?”
“I should hope so.” Asher’s friendly smile remained in place, though inwardly he was wondering what the fuck was up with that. He pulled his hand back, noticing Stijn hadn’t bothered to shake it. “Asher Sutton. I’m one of your stockholders and the owner of OutSource Everything. I was Prospectus magazine’s Businessman of the Year last year.”
“Ahhh.” The look in Stijn’s eyes grew cunning, and he held out his hand. “Mr. Sutton. A pleasure to meet you. These are my girlfriends, Bunni, Kiki, and Tiffi.”
Tiffi continued to twirl her hair, smiling at him. Yikes.
“Lucky guy,” Asher said smoothly. He shook Stijn’s hand, trying not to feel distaste for the man. Cold bastard, but he’d saved Asher’s ass, so he couldn’t hate him. “Listen, I wanted to come and thank you personally for what you did for me last year.”
“Girls, give me a moment.” Stijn turned to his girlfriends and made a shooing motion. One dared to kiss his cheek, and then all three scampered away like naughty children. Which, given the age difference between them and their boyfriend, they very well could have been. Jesus. Once the women had left, Stijn’s calculating gaze returned to Asher. “I’m sorry, but I’m confused. What exactly did you say that I did for you?”
This was damned odd. How could the man not remember giving him five million dollars? “I was having some financial trouble last year and you gave me an endowment to bail my company out.” When the man’s face showed not a flicker of recognition, Asher began to wonder if he’d somehow gotten the information wrong. The letter he’d received had come from Dutchman letterhead, though. There was no mistaking the company’s rather lewd logo of a woman with legs spread over the M in Dutchman.
“I do not recall this,” Stijn said slowly. “What was the amount?”
“Five million.”
The elder man’s eyes narrowed at him. “I would know if I gave five million out to a young upstart company.”
His distaste for the man grew, and Asher had to fight to keep the friendly smile on his face. “Nevertheless, I wanted to thank you personally and let you know I was willing to do the same for you.”
That got a reaction from him. Stijn’s pale eyes flickered with interest. He glanced around at the partygoers to make sure no one was close by, and then leaned in. “What is it you think you know about me?” The man’s accent grew heavier.
“I imagine since we both received the Prospectus award, that you need it for the same reasons I did.”
Stijn’s nostrils flared. “This is not a good place to talk. But I am interested in your proposition. Shall we meet tomorrow?” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Asher.
He took it, slightly mystified as Stijn nodded at him and then abruptly left, off to greet another man in a tuxedo. Immediately, the three Easter-egg-colored girlfriends flocked close once more, though one kept shooting him longing looks. Well, that was damned odd. Asher tucked the card into his pocket. It was almost as if the man had no idea what Asher was talking about—
Oh, fuck.
Gretchen’s voice wafted through his mind. She’s carried a torch for you since, like, grade school.
Greer.
Stijn’s only daughter. Other than an employee of the com
pany, she would be the only one with access to Dutchman letterhead. The money hadn’t come from Stijn after all. It had come from his daughter, who had ample money of her own sitting in multiple trust fund accounts from both parents.
Asher wiped his mouth dry, shocked.
He was such an idiot. He’d never questioned why Greer’s father’s company—a fucking titty magazine—would send a telecom company five million dollars to help him out. He’d just been awash in his own misery, his life falling to pieces around him, and hadn’t stopped to ask questions. He’d taken the money and righted his sinking ship and never questioned the gift.
Greer had never said a thing.
And how had he repaid her? A drunk fuck in the gardens. No wonder she wouldn’t return his calls. He’d hurt her feelings and destroyed their friendship, and until this very moment, he’d had no idea just how much the friendship meant to him. Until they were gone, he hadn’t realized how much their lunches had been such an important part of his week. He’d always thought of Greer as sweet and pleasant to be around, and he liked her as a person. She was quiet, but smart and quick. She’d always made him think, and her observations had made him smile many a time.
Now that he knew what she’d done for him, his affection had grown only deeper. Now that she was no longer in his life? He missed her with a strange ache that he had no idea how to fill.
He had billions now, thanks to her help. It wasn’t the amount of money that humbled him—though that was pretty fucking impressive on its own—it was that she trusted in him enough to fork it out, no questions asked. Greer had been such a true friend to him in his time of need.
It only reinforced his need to find her. She had to be at the party tonight. He’d watch and wait for her to arrive. Her father would be giving a speech soon, and Greer would surely be present for that. He found his place card at one of the tables in the center of the room, a few hungry-looking women already seated there. This party was full of girls on the lookout for a sugar daddy. Again, not surprising given the man they were there tonight to celebrate, but the avid, calculating looks in their eyes made Asher’s skin crawl a little. He plucked his card off the table and switched it with one at the far end of the cluster of tables so he could watch for Greer.
An hour passed. The party was in full swing, people crowding in and getting tipsy. The Dutchman girls were everywhere, breasts exposed as they passed out drinks and posed for photos. How had someone as quiet and unobtrusive as Greer managed to come from an environment such as this? It didn’t make sense. People stopped to chat with him, but he kept the conversations brief, his gaze scanning constantly for the one person he wanted to find. Eventually, people migrated to the tables and the editor of Prospectus moved to the podium and began to speak.
Asher’s gaze moved over the crowd. Stijn was seated at the front table with his three girlfriends, all gazing raptly up at the speaker. There were a few other people Asher didn’t recognize at Stijn’s table, but not his daughter. Damn it, where was she?
As one speech ended and people began to clap, Stijn moved toward the podium. As he got up, Asher’s body stiffened. There was Greer, seated directly behind her father at the next table. There was no mistaking the long fall of dark, silky hair and the big, chunky glasses that swallowed up so much of her face. Her brown skin seemed to glow against the pale blue of her low-cut bodice, and her arms were bare.
Immediately, he had an inappropriate boner. Damn it. Asher mentally willed his body to behave, but all he could think about were his few flashes of memory from that night—her soft body welcoming his, the adoring look in her dark eyes, the delicate swells of her dark-tipped breasts. She hadn’t noticed him thus far, and he was able to drink in the sight of her, unobstructed. She smiled and nodded as someone next to her spoke, but her expression seemed to be guarded. Wary. When her father spoke, her expression was attentive, but not beaming with affection or pride. A memory niggled at Asher, of Greer spending holidays back at her apartment rather than going home to visit family. Her expression changed as someone said something to her, and he watched a genuine smile spread across her face, and his body reacted again.
It seemed that now his type had gone from redheads to, well, Greer.
This was not a problem for him.
The speech droned on, Stijn taking his time to talk himself up as he spoke of his company and his many accomplishments. Asher watched Greer through the entire speech, noting when her expression grew distant, and when she truly smiled. Odd that he could tell the difference, given that she tended to mask her emotions well.
At some point, the speech ended and the crowd surged to their feet, giving Stijn a standing ovation. People whistled and cheered as if the man hadn’t bought himself a damn award, but Asher clapped along with the rest of them just to blend in. When the group started to disperse into partying again, he got out of his chair and moved toward Greer’s table, stalking her.
He saw her heading off with one of the waitstaff and jogged to catch up. “Greer!”
She turned and her face paled at the sight of him. Her mouth firmed into an angry line of distaste, and then she picked up her skirts and continued to walk away.
Yeah, he was definitely on the shit list.
That didn’t deter him, though. Asher headed after her, following her into the house and catching up despite her efforts to hurry. “Hey, wait up. I think we need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you, Asher.” She didn’t turn to look at him.
He reached out and clasped her arm, noting how warm her skin was, and how soft. And damn it all if he didn’t start to get another inappropriate boner. His body really needed to learn to calm the fuck down. “Just give me five minutes of your time, all right? Then I’ll leave you alone.”
She exchanged a look with the waitress, and then nodded at her. “I’ll be inside in a minute. Go ahead.” When the woman left, Greer sighed and turned back to him, smoothing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “What is it, Asher? I’m very busy tonight with the party.”
“I can imagine. This is a terrific party. I should have known you were behind it.” He knew she’d done weddings for some top-notch clients in New York and always took her job extremely seriously. Of course she’d put on a spectacular party for her father. “Listen. I feel like the last time we saw each other, we . . . well, we fucked up.”
Her eyebrows went up.
Shit. That was apparently the wrong thing to say. “I mean, it was a fuckup, but not that fucking you was a mistake.” God, where was his suaveness when he needed it? Why was he all diarrhea of the mouth when it came to Greer? He could sweet talk anyone, but the moment he came close to her, he babbled like a schoolboy. “Not that I think we should have fucked, of course. We’re friends, and friends don’t sleep with each other. Not if they want to stay friends. And you’ve been avoiding me. We haven’t had our Mondays in the last few months.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“It doesn’t have to be Mondays, you know. It can be any other day. Or it doesn’t have to be lunch. It can be anytime you need it to be if your schedule is all screwed.” He frowned to himself. “I should probably stop saying the word screwed, shouldn’t I?”
Her arms crossed over her chest, pressing her dress tighter against her body. “Is this conversation going somewhere, Asher? Like I said, I’m very busy tonight.”
Greer’s tits looked magnificent in that dress, he realized. They’d been small, perfect handfuls the night they’d slept together and now they seemed . . . doubly abundant. “Did you get a boob job?”
Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “I need to go.”
Fuck, why did he say that? “Sorry. It’s none of my business. Listen.” He reached out and grabbed her elbow when she turned to leave, stopping her. “The reason why I wanted to talk to you tonight is because I was behaving like an ass that night. I was drunk and I wasn’t myself. I was just l
ost in misery and in booze, and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never dragged you off to the gardens and slept with you.” And damn if that didn’t sound all wrong, too. “Not because you’re not attractive, Greer. You are.”
“You’re not winning me over, Asher.” Her voice sounded hard. “Did you truly come to this party just to tell me that you find me repulsive and you wouldn’t have slept with me if you were sober?”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant at all. You’re hot. I mean, hell, you look smoking hot in that dress tonight.” She was all lush curves, which was surprising given that his memories of her were of her daintiness. But her body had changed in the last couple of months. And something about that was bothering him. “I just . . . don’t think we should have done that. As friends.”
“On that, I agree completely. May I go now?”
Why wasn’t she thawing toward him? He remembered Greer as all soft, shy smiles for him. They’d been friends, good friends. The cool, remote stranger in front of him . . . well, it reminded him of Stijn and the politely disinterested-because-you-are-dirt-to-me expression he wore at all times. “I just . . . you’re a good friend and I don’t want to lose you.”
“We can’t change what happened, Asher.” She hadn’t thawed an inch. One of the waitstaff moved nearby with an enormous cake, and she delicately sidestepped on the path to allow them more room. As she did, the long hem of her skirt got caught in a nearby bush and pulled taut against her body, outlining a slightly rounded stomach.
Asher’s eyes widened as realization struck him. “Greer . . . are you pregnant?”
She bit her lip and averted her gaze.
Oh fuck. She was pregnant.
“Is it . . . Is it mine?”
She looked back up again. Her eyes narrowed. She crooked her finger at him, indicating he should lean down. He did—
—And she delivered a ringing slap to his face.
“Go fuck yourself, Asher. I never want to see you again.” And she stormed away into the house.