Читать книгу Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress - Natalie Anderson - Страница 10

WOLF or not, Amanda should have taken up Jared’s offer of a ride. She’d seen him slide into the sleek black sedan that had been parked in a priority space and knew it would be the ultimate in comfort on wheels. Not some low-to-the-ground flashy sports car—that would be too small for legs the length of Jared’s. He was a big, strong man and he had the equivalent in a motoring machine. But she’d refused—cutting off her nose to spite her face, as it turned out. The bus had been late and had then broken down on the side of the motorway, delaying her even further. It had been almost midnight before she’d got back to her room and, as she’d predicted, sleep had been elusive, brief and peppered with memories and dreams she wished she could forget.

She jabbed the button to summon the elevator. She wasn’t late. Having woken before sunrise and knowing there was nil possibility of more sleep, she’d got up and ready hours ago. Even now she had no need to race up the stairs, for she was still over an hour early. But she wasn’t the first in the office. Bronwyn was already there, carefully studying the mock-ups.

‘Hey, Bron.’ Her manager was lovely and talented and Amanda wanted to help keep her small company afloat.

There were four of them and Amanda was the most junior, but she’d been the one to come up with the concept that they’d run with for this pitch and Bronwyn had insisted she lead the presentation. Amanda figured her boss was too fair for her own good.

‘Are you sure you want me to be the one to do this?’ she asked.

‘Of course—it’s your idea, your freshness, your conciseness, and you have a fantastic presentation style. I wish I could bottle it and sell it. I’d be a squillionaire overnight.’ Bronwyn looked at her. ‘Are you feeling nervous?’

‘A little.’ More like a lot. There was too much resting on it and they all knew it.

‘I’ll be there. Just give me the look and I can help you out.’

‘I’ll be OK.’ Amanda put her bag down. While it was wonderful to have been given the opportunity to really prove herself, she needed to do more than that. She needed to win. Grandfather was depending on her. She’d put all her hope on the new medication—but it cost the earth.

At nine-thirty she and Bronwyn got into the taxi. Sean and Danielle stood and waved them off as a gesture of solidarity. Amanda checked her reflection in the car window. But in the two minutes that had elapsed since she’d exited the bathroom her tight, precise French plait was still tight and precise. Not a hair out of place, no lipstick on the teeth, no creases in her skirt. She was—outwardly—as ready as she could be.

Fresh was a medium-sized local beverage company that specialised in fresh-made juices and smoothies. Headed by the gregarious iconic Kiwi actor Barry Stuart, it already had high brand recognition and good market share. But now the brief had changed—Barry wanted his face off the product. They wanted a new campaign that would get results, and an ad agency that would drop everything and come running. Demands would be high, but the results would be worth it—generating enough business to keep the company afloat.

It was a fifteen-minute drive to the factory on the edge of the CBD. They waited in the spacious foyer for several minutes. Amanda avoided her nerves by studying the paintings showcased on the bright white walls—a small but solid selection of emerging New Zealand talent. Someone had a good eye.

The funkily clad receptionist took a call in quiet tones and then came over to them.

‘If you’ll follow me.’ She guided them to the lift and pressed the button for the third floor. Once there she led them to a large meeting room with wide windows looking across the city.

‘If you’d like to set up in here. Barry and the CEO will be in shortly.’

Amanda glanced at Bronwyn—she’d thought Barry was the CEO. Bronwyn shrugged and got the mock-ups from the portfolio she was carrying. Amanda pulled her laptop from her bag, scoping for power sockets.

‘Hello!’ The loud tone heralded the unmistakable arrival of Barry. The smile that he pulled from everyone flashed onto Amanda’s face. He had the kind of presence that made everyone relax even when you’d never met him. So familiar—like the friendly uncle who spent his Sundays turning the sausages at the family barbecues. Then she saw who had come into the room behind him and her heart arrested.

Jared? What was he doing here? She looked behind him to see if someone else was coming in. But with a glint in his eye he closed the door.

There was a painful thumping in her chest as her heart remembered to work and made up for the gap by going triple-time.

She’d never known what it was Jared had done after leaving town. It wasn’t as if she could ask Grandfather. She’d have been mad to mention his name to him—not after what had happened. She swallowed back the memories. Not now.

But she suddenly knew he must have done OK because he was standing here with Barry as if he owned the place.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Maybe he was the financial guy? Please?

She couldn’t help staring. Couldn’t stop either. He looked incredible. The Jared she’d known nine years ago would never have worn a suit. Certainly not one made to measure. For one thing he wouldn’t have had the money, for another he wouldn’t have cared to. But today he looked as if he were born in it—so neatly and naturally it skimmed his broad frame. It was dark, the shirt navy, the tie dark too.

And those eyes—they drew you into their darkness. Like velvety night in the most remote countryside, they held the promise of a million stars once you got to the heart of it.

Bronwyn was talking, introducing herself and Amanda to Barry and Jared. But Amanda was standing still and silent like a French mime artist with stage fright.

Barry was laughing as he made the return introductions. ‘I’m just the front man. Truth is I sold out the controlling share of the company a couple of years ago but my boss likes to keep private. It’s Jared here. You should be talking your talk to him.’

So it was the worst. Jared was the CEO—the person she had to win over today.

As if that would ever happen.

Jared spoke, inclining his head towards Bronwyn but keeping his eyes on Amanda. ‘I’m sorry for the confusion.’ The look in his eyes said he wasn’t sorry at all. The look in his eyes grew in sharp amusement.

‘But it shouldn’t make much difference.’ He kept talking. ‘Fresh is a privately held company and I’d prefer it that you don’t disseminate the management information. At this stage Barry is still very much the face of the company—until you guys do your stuff, of course.’

He smiled suddenly. That killer charm of a smile again. It was all too rare but when it flashed it had any female in the immediate vicinity weak at the knees and needy in the womb.

Amanda, still recovering from her exposure to it last night, felt a double impact.

Last night. Her brain clicked on—whirring while she read the continued amusement in his expression—and the implication became obvious. Her blood beat faster. He was not surprised to see her here. He had an expectant air—he’d known she was going to be at this meeting.

Her anger built as images from the flight flashed—she’d been working on the presentation, or at least trying to, for half the time in the air. He’d been right beside her; he’d have seen her screen easily. In fact, she knew he had. And she’d even told him for whom she worked.

But he had said nothing. Given no clue that they were destined to meet again today. It had to have been deliberate. A red mist of rage swirled before her eyes as she remembered his parting words about maybe meeting each other again ‘soon’. Totally deliberate.

The swine. The arrogant, calculating swine.

‘I want to retire,’ Barry was saying in his jokey manner. ‘He keeps working me too hard.’

Amanda didn’t smile back. Too angry, she turned. This just couldn’t be happening. She needed to win this pitch, Synergy needed the account, and she needed the money for Grandfather. She pressed her lips together, refusing to unleash the venom she ached to vent.

The men got seated on the other side of the table and Bronwyn sat too, leaving Amanda to launch into the presentation.

She switched on the screen. But it stayed blank. She switched it off and then on again. Still blank.

‘Mandy?’ Amanda hoped that the sharp hint of panic in Bronwyn’s voice was audible only to her.

‘One moment please,’ she said. This was so not what they needed right now.

The power cord led right past the chair where Jared now sat. As she bent to check the plug was pushed right into the socket he murmured, ‘Mandy? You’re never a Mandy.’

She straightened and met his eyes for one furious moment. He was laughing—laughing. She knew her face was flushed, could feel it growing all the more so as she absorbed the full extent of this living nightmare. Was this just some trivial joke for him? From the expression in his eyes he wasn’t expecting anything much at any rate. He was out to enjoy himself, not take her seriously.

For a moment hopelessness swept over and almost sank her. Had this blown all chances of them actually winning the contract?

Heck no, she couldn’t allow that to happen. Her fighting spirit kicked in. Their pitch was a good idea, it was her first chance to prove herself and more than anything she needed the money. And now she had quadruple the incentive. She was going to ace this presentation and really show him exactly what she was made of.

She made herself smile at him—as if there were nothing wrong—and then stepped back to her computer. She saw the question in Bron’s eyes and gave her a smile to reassure her—hoping she’d read her strange new skin tone as a sign of nerves, not fury. This time the cords were in right at both ends and light flickered on the screen. All systems go.

She paused, looked at Barry with his broad, unmistakable grin and then she looked at Jared. No grin, but all cynical challenge and underlying amusement. He really didn’t think she could do it. She inhaled, mentally tossed the ball high and hit him with her most powerful serve.

Twenty minutes later Jared had his fingers to his tie, discreetly trying to loosen it, wondering why the hell he’d worn it in the first place. Barry had already ribbed him about the suit—his usual work attire was jeans and a shirt. He’d hardly worn a suit since his banking days. The casual vibe of the company was half the reason he’d bought it and he only wore suits on the days when he needed to assert authority. So what was it about today that he felt the need to assert authority?

It was only Amanda—only the half-naked nuisance of a girl he’d walked away from almost a decade ago. Only the one he hadn’t been allowed—and stupidly the one he’d wanted most.

He hadn’t known what to expect from the pitch. But he certainly hadn’t expected to be impressed. And he was impressed. After a few minutes there he’d even stopped thinking about how delectable she looked and focused on what she was saying. What she was saying made sense.

Damn.

He’d never expected Amanda to turn the tables on him. He’d anticipated a flaky presentation. He’d anticipated a move afterwards. Take her out for a drink. Then somehow get to a place where they could light the fireworks between them and let them explode in a one-night extravaganza. Instead he got her cool ice-princess approach—concise delivery, punchy lines, and, once she’d got going, genuine enthusiasm. So bloody polished, so bloody perfect.

She’d always felt out of his league. And somehow she still did. Somehow just seeing her sent him into a sort of time warp where he was a teen again and fighting his way out of his lot in life. He’d been so at the mercy of those around him—dependent on generosity. He couldn’t afford to make a wrong move—not then. But damn this feeling—he was the one in control of everything now, wasn’t he?

He refused to relinquish that control.

Yet almost helplessly he watched her, able to see so much more of her today than he could last night. And she was incredible. Her hair was still tied up but looked as gold as it had been all those years ago. Her girlish curves had softened into the fuller shape of a woman. Still trim but with full breasts and a slim waist that was accentuated by the neatly tucked-in blouse and skirt. He wasn’t listening again—hearing only the racing of the blood in his veins. Heading south.

He looked down at the table forcing himself to concentrate on the words, not on the image of her.

Amanda was winding down her spiel, talking up the bit about the benefits of going with their agency and not one of the others she knew he was seeing later in the day. She was tired. Had been talking non-stop for nearly twenty minutes and she had no idea—none—about how it was going down. There’d been no questions, nothing. Barry had added a couple of smiles and nods while Jared had been the bronze statue across the way. The sense of hopelessness was returning—especially as she saw she’d lost his attention and he had a huge frown on.

‘Synergy is a New Zealand-owned company—’

‘Why is that a positive?’ Jared finally interrupted in a rough tone. ‘Wouldn’t we be better off with an overseas conglomerate that has a vast pool of talent and resources from around the globe?’

‘We can offer a unique viewpoint into your local market.’

‘How up to the minute are you?’ He fired the question.

‘As up to the minute as you can get.’ She fired right back.

‘So you’d say you’re “in touch” with the trends, then, are you?’

‘Oh, believe me, Mr James,’ she descended into sarcastic sultriness, ‘we’re in touch.’

There was a silence as Jared met her gaze coolly, triumph suddenly kindling in the dark depths of his eyes. Her heart pounded and her spine prickled as she recognised danger. She broke away, looking down to her notes.

Bronwyn and Barry were both quiet, Amanda snatched a quick glance at both. There was a question in Bronwyn’s eyes and a hint of panic—contrasting sharply with the amusement written all over Barry’s face. Amanda realised that the line between professional and personal had been crossed—she’d crossed it. The challenge in the air had been thrown up by her.

Jared suddenly smiled as he reached out and needlessly moved a piece of paper on the table. It was the merest flash of teeth, revealing his moment of satisfaction further. He’d needled her deliberately. And she’d risen to the bait all too easily. Again.

Rats.

She flashed a quick, vitriolic look at him. He must have sensed her attention because his eyelids lifted and his eyes met hers—veiled with apparent blandness, almost boredom.

Jerk.

But those hideous years at Eastern Bay School for Girls saw her regain her precarious control. She spoke quickly, clearly. ‘By choosing a New Zealand partner you’re helping strengthen your home economy. You’re helping to keep good talent onshore, and good businesses working, which is precisely what you like to do, isn’t it, Mr James? Isn’t that one of the fundamentals of your own company policy? To generate jobs locally?’

She’d done her homework—spent a good twenty minutes talking to one of the delivery drivers who supplied cartons of the juice to the café nearest to her work. He’d been delighted to talk about the company he worked with. In the last couple of years, he’d said, Fresh had expanded its production significantly. And it ran an in-house mentoring scheme and had a high number of employees who’d come from troubled youth intervention programmes—getting kids off the street and into a job. She’d been surprised—not aware that Barry had such a do-good streak.

But now she knew it was Jared at the helm it made more sense—given his own background. Yet the mentoring wasn’t something they used in publicity—once the driver had let it slip, he’d then done so much making light of it she knew it was important. So why didn’t Jared want it advertised?

She met his hard gaze and refused to look away.

‘Why do you want to go away from personality-based advertising?’ Bronwyn piped up, clearly aware of the edge between Amanda and Jared.

‘He’s sick of seeing my face everywhere.’ Barry grinned.

‘So why not rebrand it with your own name and face?’ Bronwyn asked.

Amanda said nothing, just watched Jared’s expression close down.

‘You could call it JJ’s Juice?’ Bronwyn laughed.

Barry laughed too.

Jared didn’t.

It wasn’t long before silence reigned. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Bron blushing—realising she’d made a gaffe. The only one not wincing was Barry.

‘You’re not necessarily going to head the company long-term,’ Amanda said quietly. She didn’t know where she got the prescience from but she knew she was right. ‘And you don’t want it limited or dominated by one personality.’

He met her gaze for a moment longer and then looked away.

‘You know him.’ Bronwyn stated the obvious the minute the taxi doors were closed.

‘Yes.’ Amanda sighed, not wanting to meet her boss’s eyes, but honesty compelled her to.

‘In a way that means we’ll get the contract or we won’t?’

Amanda paused and then shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t know.’ She pulled the tie from her hair and loosened the plait, its tight do hurting her head. ‘Probably the latter. I’m really sorry. I had no idea he was going to be there.’

‘Nor did I. Keeps his cards close, doesn’t he? Doesn’t want to be in the public eye at all. I wonder why?’

Amanda could hazard a guess. Privacy was important to Jared. He’d hated the whole town knowing his business—all the girls feeling as sorry for him as much as they wanted him. He wouldn’t want to be showcased as the underprivileged-kid-done-good. He had too much pride for that.

Bronwyn opened her mouth but closed it again. Next time she opened it she got the question out. ‘How well do you know him?’

It was the inevitable question and Amanda knew exactly what it was she was asking. ‘Not that well.’

‘OK.’ Bronwyn smiled. ‘So how do you know him?’

‘We grew up in the same town. But I haven’t seen him for years.’

‘There’s something, though, isn’t there, between you?’

You’d have had to be made of stone not to have picked up on the tension between them. Bronwyn wasn’t an idiot. And Amanda knew she wasn’t going to let her get off this track without offering up some of the detail.

‘A kiss.’

‘Only one?’

‘He stopped it going further.’

One frightening, exhilarating, life-changing kiss. So often she wished it had never happened. Yet other times, usually when she was kissing someone else, she was glad it had. Because it had been the one kiss that had given her a glimpse of what it could really be like. Amanda had gone in for a lot of kissing in her quest to find a man who could better it. She’d yet to succeed.

She’d romanticised it of course. That was the problem. With the passage of time that hazy memory had become something more than it had really been.

Amanda glanced across to see Bronwyn’s glance resting on her—amusement mixed with chagrin swirling in her expression. ‘Well, it’ll be interesting anyway.’

‘I’m really sorry, Bronwyn. I’d never have come along today had I known.’

Bronwyn shrugged. ‘If your past is going to make as much difference as all that, then maybe we don’t want his business. If he’s unprofessional enough to allow personal issues into his decision-making processes, then we’re better off without him, right?’

‘Right.’ Amanda wanted to smile but couldn’t. No way were they better off without his business. They needed his business no matter what.

‘But for what it’s worth, I think your presentation was stellar. Whatever history you two do or don’t have, it certainly put fuel in your fire. You could have sold me a three-week-old wet newspaper.’

Amanda flushed once more—this time from pleasure rather than mortification. And then the warm feeling subsided. No matter how good she’d been she was sure Jared wouldn’t give them the job.

At that moment Jared was staring at the painting hanging in the far corner of his office, for once not getting any sense of calm from the vast landscape it depicted. He tugged off the tie and undid the top button of his shirt.

This was business. He had to make this decision based on what was best for the company. Which was the pitch more likely to work and which was in tune with his vision? And who could he work with closely to get what he wanted?

What he wanted or who he wanted?

He frowned and turned away, looking out of the window and down the road where a few minutes ago a taxi had driven off, taking the infuriating Amanda away.

Damn.

Because he’d liked her pitch. He’d liked the idea. And there was a part of him that wanted to give the job to that company because he wanted to see it succeed—not go under, swallowed up by the global advertising giants. He’d stepped in and stopped this juice company from being taken over by a large offshore firm; it was part of what had driven him to work the hours he had and take the risks he had. They’d paid off too, those risks. Now he was contemplating another.

Could he really work with her?

He frowned. Ridiculous. Of course he could. A little lust attack could easily be stamped out. Because no way could he follow through on the idea of a one-night fling with her if they were to be working together. That would be messy and Jared loathed messy. He worked most of the time, he played outdoors some of the time and he scored even less of the time. The three were kept very separate. So what if he wanted her? He’d wanted her before and said no; he could do that again no sweat. Definitely.

The question was, could she work with him? Could she keep her professionalism up?

And that, he realised, was what he wanted to know. Could the spoilt princess cope with him giving the orders? His mouth stretched into a smile, slow and wide. How funny for the boot to be on the other foot. Amanda Winchester answering to his call for once.

It shouldn’t matter. Jared was not the kind who liked to abuse his power—but in this case, in this unique case, the temptation was irresistible.