There was no response and Chloe tried again. “Mr. Trainor, Ms. Teresa Fo—”

“I heard.” Trainor’s voice snapped like a whip through the headset. Chloe actually drew back from the phone console before he continued. “She can come in.”

When Chloe nodded to her, Ms. Fogarty flashed Chloe a triumphant look and turned on her heel. Which was shod in exactly the sort of high-heeled pump Chloe planned to wear tomorrow. Except Teresa’s heels had the red sole that labeled them as coming from a very expensive designer. As the superior Ms. Fogarty stalked into Trainor’s inner sanctum, Chloe rolled back from the desk and contemplated her simple, functional ballet flats. She sighed. She did like beautiful shoes.

She glided back in to finish the notes. Once that was done, she glanced at her watch and blew out a breath. If they were going to dinner, she wished they’d go, so she could get home to Grandmillie.

Courtesy brought Nathan to his feet as Teresa stormed through the doors into his office, her raincoat flapping open to show a deep red dress that clung to her body. That would have tempted him to run his hands down over her hips and up under her skirt until yesterday. Now he just wanted her out of his office.

“Nathan, you canceled our dinner date,” she said, shedding her coat and tossing it on a chair. She perched on the chair’s arm, crossing one long leg over the other so the narrow skirt rode up her thighs. The display had no effect on him. “Why?”

Her directness was one of the things he’d liked about her. Except now that he knew it wasn’t real, it seemed more abrasive than refreshing.

The hangover headache he’d been battling all day jabbed at his temples. He and his two new drinking buddies at the Bellwether Club had consumed more alcohol than he cared to remember. He considered blaming his hangover on Teresa, but he knew it was his own fault. As was the ridiculous wager he’d made with Luke Archer and Gavin Miller. He had fully expected one or the other to contact him today to call the whole thing off.

Now that he thought about it, he could blame the bet on Teresa. He walked around the desk to face her. “Since you’re here, we might as well—”

Her face lit up and she started to gather up her coat.

“—talk about the end of our relationship,” he finished.

Her expression hardened and her eyes sparked with temper. “I can’t believe you’re making such an issue out of the little joke I played when we met.”

“Maybe if you’d told me yourself,” he said, but he wasn’t sure that was true anymore. For a brief, gratifying moment, he’d believed that a beautiful, desirable woman had wanted him just as a man. Not as a billionaire. Not as a CEO. Not even as a supposed genius. “I value honesty.”

She stood up, her arms stretched out toward him. “I’m being deeply honest when I say that I am crazy in love with you.”

The curve of her arms was pure grace, the tilt of her head was pleading without groveling, and the timbre of her voice vibrated with emotion. Every nuance was so perfect that he realized he was seeing a very skillful act. If Chloe Russell were in the grip of an emotion as powerful as Teresa claimed to be, the feisty little temp would probably hurl herself at him and pound on his chest to make her point.

He wondered where that image had come from, even as he dismissed it.

“Was it money or a job you wanted?” he asked.

“I wanted you,” Teresa said in a throaty voice as she let her arms fall to her sides in an elegant arc.

“The company’s legal business?” He was angry at himself for being fooled by this woman.

“Why can you not believe I love you for yourself?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Teresa, you’re just digging a deeper hole.”

“I read an interview with you in a business magazine,” she said, dropping the mask of being insulted. “You said the rich don’t have the luxury of falling in love like normal human beings.”

“I don’t remember having a philosophical discussion about love with a journalist.”

“The article was dated about ten years ago. I was doing some research recently and found it.”

He cast back in his memory and came up blank. Evidently he’d been smarter about women but dumber about the press back then. “What were you researching?”

“Trainor Electronics. I was going to court your business.” She shook her hair back from her shoulders. “Only I found I wanted to court you instead. So I tried to create the illusion of falling in love like normal people. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

The problem was that he had enjoyed it. Far too much. “I don’t like illusions,” he said. “They’re just lies dressed up in fancy clothes.”

“So, that’s it?” she said. “You’re just cutting me out of your life after five months of intimacy?”

“I’ll send you a diamond bracelet as a parting gift,” he said.

She couldn’t hide the flare of greed in her eyes, even as she made a show of affronted virtue. “Keep your gift,” she said, swiping up her coat and stalking to the door before she looked over her shoulder. “If you handed it to me now, I’d throw it in your face.”

She slammed the door behind her.

He leaned back against his desk and rubbed his burning eyelids. The hangover and lack of sleep had probably made him harsher than he should have been. He’d send her the bracelet to salve his conscience. It would be interesting to see if she kept it.