“Under the circumstances,” he rumbled behind her, as she reached for the handle and twisted.

“You might want to call me Alex…Emma.”

She didn’t turn back, but her name on his lips sent a shiver up her spine.

Two hours later, the office door closed behind the Rockwell brothers, and Ryan Hayes turned his stare on Alex. “I assume you nailed down the details with her?”

Alex closed the top manila folder, carefully straightening the pile on the polished tabletop in front of him. “Not quite.”

Ryan narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean not quite?”

Alex sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing a fingertip across his temple. Gunter’s plan was looking more ridiculous by the minute. “I mean, the details aren’t nailed down yet.”

“But you are getting married.”

“I’m trying,” Alex snapped.

Ryan shook an admonishing finger. “You are not touching McKinley Inns without a bona fide McKinley bride on your arm. Jeez, Alex, they’ll crucify us in the press.”

Alex gritted his teeth. He’d turned this thing over in his mind a thousand different ways. If it was up to him, he’d call the loan right now and take over the damn company. This was business, not a day care for dilettantes.

But Ryan and Gunter were both major shareholders in Garrison Hotels. And they were both convinced that Alex’s reputation as a hard-ass was hurting business. They even thought some recent, decisive takeover bids had harmed employee morale and impacted on convention business.

As a result, they were forcing him to behave like a boy scout in public. He wasn’t allowed to argue, wasn’t even allowed to scowl. Soon they’d have him kissing babies and helping little old ladies across the street.

“Why don’t you marry her?” he asked Ryan.

“Because I’m not the one with the image problem,” Ryan countered. “Besides, I’m not the CEO, and I’m not the public face of Garrison Hotels. Profits were up fifteen percent for the quarter.”