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took for her sis to hang onto the one thing she had left.
    She needed Beck Blackwood. Correction: she needed his business. Getting the two mixed up would end in disaster.
    “Honesty’s important to me. I assumed it would be to a businessman like you, too?”
    “Okay then, why don’t we start the pitch a little early?” He watched her, thoughtful, as if he couldn’t quite figure out what she was up to. “Tell me your credentials.”
    Uh-oh, this isn’t what she wanted. When she pitched her ideas she’d envisioned office space between them, a PowerPoint presentation at her fingertips, and a host of facts to dazzle him. She hadn’t imagined being cocooned in the intimacy of a limo, his crisp citrus aftershave blending with the interior’s new-leather smell for an intoxicating richness that tantalized her senses.
    She hated how uncertain he made her feel—and how good he smelled. “I’d prefer to use visuals to accompany my presentation.”
    “What, celebratory handcuffs and phallic cakes?”
    To her annoyance, heat surged to her cheeks. “Divorce Diva Daily doesn’t do tacky.”
    “Then tell me, what do you do?” He braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, immediately shrinking the limo space further.
    Damn, she couldn’t put him off. She’d have to give him something without compromising the kick-ass presentation she’d fast-tracked earlier today.
    “We focus on classy celebrations of freedom. No bitterness, no rehashing the past, no dwelling—our aim is to focus on the future.” She held up her hand, fingers extended, ready to tick off points. “Food. Drink. Music. Entertainment. The staples of any great party, but we gear it toward the individual in such a way they have the time of their lives without any regrets. Leave the past behind, celebrate the future—that’s basically our motto.”
    He continued to watch her, coolly assessing.
    She didn’t like the silence, so she plowed on. “As for my credentials, I’m a freelancer. I have a marketing degree and have worked on several major motion picture campaigns in Hollywood.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like party planning experience to me.”
    Fan-freaking-tastic. She’d hoped to impress him with her real skills. Trust Einstein to home in on what she hadn’t said.
    She could lie, bluff her way out of it, verbally pad her résum é . But she’d told him she was honest and he’d probably seen through her. “My sister owns the business. I help out on occasion, but she’s taking a break at the moment, so you get me instead.”
    She could’ve sworn she heard him mutter “Lucky me,” their locked gazes underlined by a sizzle she’d rather not define.
    To her relief, he leaned back and she felt like she could breathe again.
    “So you’re the diva, huh?”
    “Only at work. Away from it, I’m a pussycat.”
    Where had that come from? Sounded like she was flirting with him. Not good.
    “De-clawed, I hope?”
    “Where’s the fun in that?”
    The good news? She’d distracted him from badgering her for the rest of her presentation.
    The bad news? They’d somehow moved beyond work into murky territory.
    “You’re an intriguing woman.”
    The way he said it, with a hint of admiration, and the way he looked at her, like he couldn’t tear his gaze away, made her feel squirmy and proud and desired all at the same time.
    So she did what she always did when rattled: deflect with humor. “That’s what they all say.”
    Thankfully, the limo glided to a stop at that moment and effectively ended their conversation.
    Good. She couldn’t handle much more of being confined with the hotshot, her every move and word being scrutinized. Time to nail this presentation and head back to Provost as fast as his private jet could take her, far from green eyes and quirky smiles and bedroom voices.
    …
     
    Beck had never been so glad to enter the safety of his office.
    While many of his colleagues considered home to be their