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Alex couldn’t have been more surprised if the limo had spoken. "You what?"

Deena’s steady gaze never left his face. "I bought you myself. You’re mine. I can schedule the brunch for Saturday, if you’d prefer." She reached for her cell phone.

Saturday would work, he thought, then mentally stumbled. Deena had bought him? "Why?" he asked.

He’d seen his assistant go without sleep when helping him close a big deal. She’d worked with the flu, through holidays and during an earthquake. He’d shown up at her apartment in the middle of the night, where she’d accepted the invasion with good grace and an offer of coffee. But he’d never seen her blush or look away.

"You don’t have a life," she said. "There is nothing for you but Thornton Industries. You have no family, no social life. I want to show you that there’s a whole world out there you need to acquaint yourself with."

He had a life. A good life. Yes, work consumed him, but what else was there?

"A nice thought," he said, "but not necessary. I’ll reimburse you for the money."

"No."

No argument, no persuasion, just a simple refusal. He’d known Deena long enough to understand that when she dug in her heels, she couldn’t be budged. That was one of the things he liked about her. She wasn’t afraid to push back when she thought he was wrong.

"Deena, this is a busy time for me."

"It’s always busy. That’s how you like it. It’s just twenty-four hours, Alex. It’s the weekend, and the markets are closed. Everyone else is going to be taking it easy, so you don’t have to worry about the business."

"What if I promise to take a vacation in a few months?"

She shook her head. "We both know you’d be lying. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon. Dress casual."

* * *

Los Angeles was home to enough of the rich and famous that nearly everything amazing was available to rent. Which was why Deena pulled up in front of Alex’s building with her own—for the weekend anyway—sleek silver BMW convertible.

She’d moved from simply shaking to feeling nauseous—definitely not an improvement. Her Aunt Amanda might applaud Deena’s tactics, but she would take her to task for lying.

"But I couldn’t tell him the real reason I bid on him," Deena murmured as she waved at the doorman and made her way to the elevator. "Alex sees me as a piece of office furniture, not a woman. Telling him I care about him would be as interesting to him as if the fax machine declared its affection. Telling him I’m doing this for his own good is better. Really."

Had Aunt Amanda been there, the old woman would have looked disappointed, even though she wouldn’t have said anything. Her aunt was a firm believer in unconditional love.

Deena exited the elevator on the top floor and made her way to Alex’s penthouse. She was still rationalizing the decision to keep her feelings to herself as she pushed the bell.

She half expected him not to be there. After all, he’d grumbled under his breath the entire previous afternoon, complaining about all the work he would be missing. But he’d never actually refused. She tried to tell herself that was a good thing.

When the door opened, she braced herself for more complaints. Then she was glad she was braced because while Alex in a suit made her heart beat faster and Alex in workout clothes made her want to throw herself in front of him, Alex in jeans and a snug-fitting polo shirt took her breath away.

Soft worn denim hugged strong thighs and narrow hips, while the deep red shirt emphasized broad shoulders. Her gaze rose to the set of his square jaw, to his firm mouth that smiled ever so slightly. Finally she looked at his eyes—dark, mesmerizing and today filled with questions. As usual, his dark hair was short and layered, with a single lock drifting onto his forehead.

How many times had she wanted to lean close and push that wayward strand back into place? How many times had they worked late, pouring over schedules, planning meetings, all the while sitting shoulder to shoulder, his masculine scent invading her body and making it nearly impossible to stay rational?

"Right on time," he said. "You told me casual. Does this work?" He lightly brushed the front of his shirt.

She nodded because speaking was more than she could manage. She’d been planning this day since Alex had walked into her office and tossed the charity request for the bachelor auction on her desk and announced his intention of having her buy him so he could be charitable but not lose time. So much rode on these few hours. If Alex could finally see her as a person rather than a machine—as a woman—then maybe there was a chance. If not she would have to find a way to collect the bits of her broken heart and move on.

"So what’s the plan?" he asked as he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. "I’ve been thinking about this and figured you’d want to get back at me for all the nights I made you work late. Are you going to have me wax your car? Paint your living room?"

She thought of the elegant and expensive day and evening she’d arranged. "Not exactly."

Not exactly was right, Alex thought as they pulled up at the marina and Deena led the way to a beautiful seventy-foot yacht.

On board the captain greeted them. The boat was theirs for the next five hours. Where would they like to go?

"How about cruising up the coast?" Deena asked. "All right with you?"

As she spoke, a crewman opened a bottle of champagne and poured them each a glass. Alex took in the luxurious cabin, the elegant furniture and the tray of hors d’oeuvres beside the champagne and frowned.

As he’d already told Deena, he’d expected her to force him into hard labor for their twenty-four hours together. He’d never thought she would come up with something like this.

"Alex? The cruise?"

"Whatever you’d like."

He accepted the glass of champagne then followed Deena onto deck where they watched the crew cast off. It might be winter everywhere else, but Los Angeles was balmy and clear.

While their yacht moved through the maze of boats at Marina del Rey, Alex found himself more interested in the woman standing next to him than in the spectacular view. She looked different. For once her long hair was loose, rather than up or in a braid. She wore tailored cream slacks and a matching blazer, while her silky shirt exactly matched her dark-green eyes.

Had she been anyone else, he would have done the math. One yacht, one bottle of champagne and an entire night together. It equaled seduction to him. But that wasn’t Deena’s style…was it?

He realized he knew nothing about her personal life. Nothing about her, save the fact that she made his world rotate smoothly.

If she had seduction in mind, did he want to participate?

She turned and caught him staring at her. One corner of her mouth curved up in a smile.

"What?" she asked.

"You’re a surprise," he said.

"You mean the boat and everything."

"No. I mean you."