Читать книгу Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir / Jealousy & a Jewelled Proposition: Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir - Paula Roe, Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 9

Three

“The crisis center was your mother’s idea,” Holly casually stated as they boarded the Cessna on their way back to Sydney the next afternoon.

“Yes,” he said, nodding to the flight attendant and handing him his coat.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Vance.”

He’d heard those simple words a thousand times in the past few weeks, yet instinctively he knew Holly meant them.

“My mother was committed to causes,” he acknowledged as he eased into the black leather seat.

“So I heard. You must have been very proud of her.” He gave a non-committal answer then said, “Better strap yourself in.” She nodded and went to her seat further down the aisle.

Pride wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when he thought of April Vance Kellerman these days. He’d buried her last month, what now seemed a lifetime ago. Unbidden, the past crowded his head with the suppressed memories his mother’s shocking confession had stirred to the surface. An urgent, whispered confession that he’d put down to the painkillers. The confession of a dying woman who’d been living a lie. One that had suddenly taken on malevolent form.

The only reason she’d confessed was fear—fear of being discovered. If Howard’s investigator hadn’t been so dogged in his pursuit, crossing state lines on the strength of speculation and hearsay to finally end up in Jake’s hometown, he had no doubt he’d still be in the dark about his true parentage.

He balled a fist and thumped it gently on the cold glass window. Like water from a cracked cup, the resentment seeped out, leaving a deep, dark emptiness in its wake.

Everything he knew, everything he’d based his life on was a lie. Yet so many things, so many oddities he’d never questioned clicked into place: Why they’d lived like nomads, shifting across state lines. Why family was never mentioned. And the nightmares that had finally stopped when he was ten years old.

Jake sighed and allowed himself that moment of grief and guilt. The two powerful emotions mingled to form a hard black lump in his gut. If he took any more time, he’d be forced to look long and hard at every choice, every decision April had made that had shaped his life.

Reluctantly he acknowledged a simple fact: April’s death had hit way too close to home. He’d already begun to reassess his life after her funeral, to silently question just who he was and what he was doing. The inevitable shadows of death had touched him deeply, the painful, scary vulnerability it wreaked forcing him to re-evaluate his ten-year plan.

That plan was close to completion: he had everything money could buy and then some. Everything the Blackstones had been born into, everything April had lacked. After this Blackstones fiasco was behind him, he could fully commit to the last on his list—get himself a wife and start a family.

He glanced back to Holly. She was staring out the window with a pair of headphones on, studiously concentrating on the tarmac as they taxied down the runway. And just like that, his whole body tightened, forcing a surprised breath from his throat.

With mounting irritation he silently admitted his plan to intimidate her—and by default, the Blackstones—with an overt display of wealth had backfired. He’d wanted Blackstone’s to be clear on exactly who they were dealing with, and what he could do if crossed. But it surprised him how calmly she took everything in her stride, from the early flight in his top-of-theline ten-seater Cessna to his subtle commands that had them winging their way back to Sydney a few hours later. She hadn’t missed a beat, answering his blunt questions with accuracy, waiting patiently while he signed off on the multiplex center.

This girl from the bush fit right into his million-dollar world as if born to it. And she was tempting, his little Blackstone’s assistant, with her snug business skirts and touch-me shirts. His groin ached in sudden painful remembrance of last night. She’d invaded his dreams and got under his skin in a way other women hadn’t. It was part desire, part knowledge of the unknown. Was she a spy? Did she have an agenda? Perversely, not knowing excited him even more.

He scowled, looking but not seeing the runway flash by as they picked up speed and launched into the air with a flourish. If he wasn’t careful, his fascination would become a weakness. He’d been stupid enough to allow one woman to break his heart then let another destroy his trust. It wasn’t going to happen again.

But damn, he wanted her. Probably, he admitted ruefully, because he shouldn’t have her.

His phone rang then, dragging him from those dangerous thoughts.

“How did it go with the Blackstones?” said Quinn by way of greeting.

“How do you think?” Jake muttered, resting the phone on his shoulder while shuffling through the floor plans of the center he’d just inspected. “The DNA sealed it. And now I have a walking, talking Blackstone’s billboard to keep tabs on me while giving the hard sell.” He eased back in his seat and the leather squeaked in protest.

“Is she cute?”

“Does it matter?” Jake scowled.

“Which means she is.”

“So?”

“A guy just needs to know these things.”

The tension in Jake’s shoulders relaxed an inch. “Right. You’re getting soft in your old age, mate,” he drawled, his attention fixed out the window, at the huge expanse of drought-stricken land rolling below.

“There’s more to life than making money.”

“Ahh, another piece of Quinn-wisdom. Next you’ll be telling me ‘all you need is love.’”

“Maybe all you need is your hot little Blackstone’s billboard.”

Jake snorted. “Forgotten Mia, have you?”

“Everyone else has. But hey, if you’re happy dragging that baggage around with you—”

“I don’t have baggage.”

“Right.” Quinn’s frustration crackled down the line. “Lucy. Your stepdad. All those shitty little towns you grew up in. You’ve got a whole bloody wardrobe, mate.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Jake screwed up his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “While I have you here, is there any way of tracking down that missing Blackstone diamond?”

“I’ll get onto it straight after I finish building my time machine.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Laser identification wasn’t invented until the early eighties. You’d have a better chance finding Eldorado. And anyway, Matt Hammond…already…me…it.”

Jake frowned. “You’re breaking up.”

The line went dead and with a soft curse, Jake hung up.

Suddenly restless, he rose to his feet and walked the few metres down the plane to where Holly was now studiously scribbling on a spreadsheet.

When he approached she glanced up and quickly shoved a folder across the papers, but not before he caught the heading on the top. Finances.

“A bit early for your tax return,” he said mildly, and leaned against the back of seat, crossing his arms.

“I like to get on top of things.” She met his eyes almost defiantly and changed the subject. “I’ve been organising your schedule,” she said without preamble. “You’ve got a four-o’clock meeting with Kimberley, and I’ve asked our department heads for their last quarterly reports.” She offered some papers to him. “I printed out the corporate structure, along with the contact numbers of key Blackstone personnel. After five I’ll give you a proper tour of the building.”

He stood there, filling the space too well, looking far too comfortable, Holly thought with chagrin. When he leaned in to take the documents, awareness suddenly hit. He smelled warm, musky and expensive. He smelled wonderful.

She surreptitiously glanced at her watch, trying to hide her nervousness, but he caught her look.

“Would you like to join me for lunch?”

His mild question hung in the air but she swore she could see a faint flicker of challenge in his eyes. Ruthlessly she ground out a stab of desire. “No, thank you.”

He raised one brow. “Why not?”

“Because I brought my own.”

“You’d rather brown bag it than have a proper meal with me?”

She paused, weighing her answer. “Yes.”

His short chuckle surprised her. “It’s just food, Holly. We’ll use a Blackstone’s restaurant. And talk business.”

She tipped her head, considering him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you no?”

“Not if they wanted to keep their job.”

She bristled. “You’d sack me for refusing to eat with you?”

“No.” His answering grin did nothing to ease her tension. “Anyway, I can’t sack you. You work for Blackstone’s.”

“And you want to eat with me…why?”

“Maybe I just want your company.”

Holly gave an inward groan at the seductive smile stretching his sinful mouth. He might be gorgeous, but she forced herself to remember who he was. Her boss. At least for now.

Regardless of how she felt, she had to see this through. It’d do no good to stuff this up, not when she’d been backed into a corner.

She gave a curt, imperious nod, not wanting to appear too willing. “Let me make a call.”

An hour later they were guided to a private table at the back of Si Ristorante, one of Blackstone’s first-floor eateries.

“I’m surprised you have time for lunch, given your schedule,” Holly said as the waiter brought them menus.

“I always make time to eat. Good food and a bottle of wine predispose people to generosity. And I also have a weakness for—” his gaze skimmed over her face, settling on a spot a little left to her mouth “—gnocchi.”

Flustered, she busied herself with pouring a glass of water from the carafe. “And do you always treat your employees?”

“Who said I’m paying?”

Holly snapped up her eyes to meet his amused ones, and for one incredible second it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

Silly girl, Holly thought dazedly as she looked into those emerald eyes, the edges creased with uncharacteristic humour. The man had a billion reasons to smile, yet not one press clipping showed him happy. Dark, brooding or scowling, yes. Smiling? No.

I wonder why.

“Did you always want to work at Blackstone’s?” he asked casually, changing the heated direction of her thoughts.

“No.” She took his lead and studied the menu too. “But jobs are hard to come by out west so I moved.”

“Where are you from?”

She hesitated, contemplating the wisdom of giving too much information. “You won’t know it.”

“Try me.”

“Kissy Oak.” She flushed as his eyes focused on her lips for a second. “It’s a small farming community a few miles west of Dubbo.”

“A small-town girl,” he said softly. “Did you leave any small-town boys behind?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Just making small talk. Getting to know my assistant.”

When he smiled with deliberate charm, Holly’s suspicion deepened. The man obviously knew the effect he had on women. Just not this woman.

“Don’t you know already, thanks to your crack research team?”

His expression turned shrewd. “Reports don’t tell me everything.”

She noted the pointed absence of an outright denial and crossed her arms, trying to keep a firm hold on her mounting irritation. “So you tell me.”

To his credit, he looked her straight in the eye and said calmly, “You were born on the thirtieth of April, 1982 in Dubbo Hospital to Martin and Maureen McLeod. Your twin brother, Daniel, died two days later. Your parents owned McLeod Crop Dusting, serving the farming communities around Dubbo. When you were seventeen, MacFlight bought them out then went bust. You moved to the city, started at Blackstone’s in Human Resources and have just finished a Blackstone’s-funded degree at university. Your official position is PA to the Human Resources Manager but you’re currently filling a temp position with PR. Your mother is living on a government pension and your father on disability.”

Holly sucked in a breath as she shut the menu with deliberate slowness. How neatly he’d summed up the emotional roller coaster of her life, explaining away the past nine years without sensation or feeling. But she knew better. Jake couldn’t know the gut-wrenching hours at hospital, comforting her hysterical mother while waiting for her dad to come out of intensive care following a stroke. Then the months of expensive rehab, no longer covered by their expired health insurance. The day-to-day living expenses of food, electricity, rates. She’d wrestled with the worry and stress every day until it was a permanent throb of duty lodged in a tiny corner of her heart.

She flushed when she was angry, Jake noticed absently, watching the heat coloring her cheeks a soft shade of pink. And unfortunately, he also realised that her precarious financial situation put her right at the top of his list of suspects for the press leak.

She flicked her eyes away, sweeping the restaurant to study the lunch crowd. But the calculated move couldn’t detract from the struggle he could see warring on her features.

He knew she was aware of his scrutiny. And when he saw her fingers go to her earlobe and fiddle with the diamond stud there, he smiled. She wasn’t just angry. She was nervous. Interesting.

“You were working while studying part-time at Shipley University,” he stated.

To her credit, she tempered her annoyance with a small nod. “Business Management and Marketing.”

“You were profiled in the university’s journal as an exceptional talent,” he said, “after handling that ‘sex for grades’ scandal last year.”

“That’s right.”

“So why didn’t you take the university’s job offer instead?”

Holly blinked. “Blackstone’s paid for my education. Why would I take another job? Besides, the university is—” she paused, picking her words with care “—conservative. Dress code, morality clauses—”

“Blackstone’s has a morality clause,” Jake interjected.

“But only for employees working within the same department. And the pay is more, the opportunities to advance much greater. I also like working here.”

His gaze became speculative. “Working full-time and going to university part-time must’ve played hell with your social life.”

“No. I focused on work.”

Jake nodded. “So what made you volunteer to assist me?”

“I didn’t. I got seconded.”

Ahh. Jake placed the menu on his plate. Despite her denials, she was pissed. Enough for a little payback? He did the math in his head. No. The leak had been going on since Christmas, which meant something had happened just before Howard’s plane went down.

The waiter arrived to take their orders then, but after the man left, the silence continued.

Determined not to let the unnerving intensity of Jake’s study affect her, Holly reached for the bread basket—at exactly the same time Jake did.

Her mouth dropped from the shock of their skin-on-skin contact, her eyes widening. To recover from that surprising little zing, she yanked her hand back.

And there it was again. Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that one day, somehow, if he had his way, they’d be more than boss and assistant?

“Can I ask you something?” she said suddenly.

He eased back in his chair and picked up the water goblet. “You can. But I might not answer.”

“How long will you be here?” How long before I can get my job back, when I can resume a normal life…and I can stop my stomach flipping every time you study me like I’m a particularly interesting puzzle that needs to be unravelled?

His smile turned mockingly sensual. “In a hurry to get back to Human Resources?”

“No. I’m waiting on my transfer papers to PR.”

He paused for a second, his gaze holding her defiant one. In the next, a grudging smile teased his lips.

Holly nearly groaned aloud. Oh, man. The warmth of that one simple smile scorched her like she’d been caught in the pathway of a comet. The heated aftermath spread from her fingertips to the bottom of her black Jimmy Choos, heat of a purely female nature. His smile, combined with the warmth in his voice, was deliberately calculated to disarm her. There wasn’t a woman he couldn’t charm if he put his mind to it. She’d already witnessed it with Jessica.

Bad, bad move. You don’t even like the guy.

Jake watched her fiddle with the stud in her ear again. “You’ve got something to say,” he said casually.

She stilled. “Mr Vance…”

“Jake. It’s Jake.”

“Jake.” She paused, which only heightened the way his name sounded on her lips. Lips that were painted a luscious shade of berry, so very close to that little kissy-mole.

“Kimberley’s brief said you’re looking to invest in Blackstone’s.

But I thought AdVance Corp was all about…” She paused, searching for the right word.

“Conquer and divide?” Jake smiled thinly, toying with the stem of his glass. “Don’t believe everything you read. I like to see what I’m getting before I invest, to decide if it’s worthy of my time and money.” At least, that part had started out true. But after last night, when he’d dissected the deeper implications for the tenth time, he’d realised one thing. He was a Blackstone. Just because he hadn’t had the privilege of the name for the last thirty-two years didn’t mean he should let a successful corporate entity crumble to the ground. He wasn’t seventeen any more, running away from the shame of his past. The story wasn’t going away and it was within his power to save this company.

Now he said, “I’m looking to expand my options. Blackstone’s is an important part of Australian corporate history but has been floundering since January. It’s a perfect choice.”

“So you have no intention of breaking us up?”

Us. Not “Blackstone’s” or “the company”. Us. As if she was part of a family. His gut clenched. “Hadn’t even entered my mind.”

The doubt written so clearly on her face got his back up. “Afraid of losing your job, Holly?”

“It’s more than just a job to me.” She focused on straightening the already perfect cutlery. For one second, Jake thought about defending himself with the truth, but just as quickly reined himself in.

“You don’t like me. Why?”

Her head snapped up, showing him a glimpse of something simmering just below the surface. Yet her reply was one in

studied control. “I didn’t think being liked would matter to a man like you.”

“‘A man like me’?” he said tightly. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t. Damn. Why did her approval suddenly matter at all? “Let me guess. You think I’m just buying another failing company to carve it up and sell it off at a profit, ruining lives and families in the process.”

“Are you?”

“That’s not what I do.”

“No?”

Her scepticism ratcheted his annoyance up a notch. “I’ve saved more jobs than I’ve destroyed.”

He shouldn’t care. Hell, he didn’t. But despite that, irritation flared and he suddenly leaned forward, making her jump. “I’ve publicly refuted every crooked claim, every accusation. But rebuttals don’t sell papers—bad press does.”

He tightened his jaw, refusing the fury access before pulling back with a disgusted snort. “Go on, name a story.”

“I don’t…”

“Do it, Holly. Name your damn price if that’s what it’ll take.”

She inched back in her chair as far as she could go before saying quietly, “The East Timor construction company.”

“The press said I bought it out and sacked the workers, leaving thousands of families without income. They glossed over the fact it was actually a front for a terrorist group. I dissolved the company and built a school in the local village instead.”

They both paused as the waiter brought their food. But as the man left, Jake said curtly, “Next.”

“I…”

“You want to know. I’m telling you.” He forced his expression into neutrality, revealing nothing. “Next.”

She swallowed and suddenly his eyes were drawn to her throat, to the heartbeat that was undoubtedly thumping wildly in her chest. “Paul Bradley.”

“My chief financial officer.” He picked up his fork, spearing the gnocchi with curt precision. “I demoted him to my Hanoi office because he vocally opposed one of my takeover bids.”

Holly’s fear suddenly gave way to anger, giving her the strength to face his stare with one of her own. “‘Cross me and you’ll pay’?”

“Yes. I demand loyalty in my staff. I won’t stand any bad-mouthing, especially when he was wrong. I had to make an example of him.”

“Was Mia Souris an example too?”

As a dark scowl creased his forehead, she blithely charged on. “She was your secretary and made a mint with her story. Why haven’t you made her pay, too?”

“What makes you think she hasn’t?”

At her sudden silence, he said softly, “The last I heard she was working as a waitress in a London club, trying to escape the notoriety of her kiss-and-tell article.”

He placed his fork on the plate and drew the napkin slowly, almost sensuously, across his mouth. “You are a surprising woman, Holly McLeod.”

“Why?” She studied her chicken penne, wondering how she’d manage to keep it down when her belly was churning so much.

“Are you pushing my buttons to get reassigned?”

Astonished, she jolted straight in her chair. “If you’re unhappy about my performance, Mr Vance—”

“It’s Jake, for Pete’s sakes!” His voice then became less harsh. “Say it.”

She said slowly, “Jake.”

“Much better.”

She blinked at the warm languor in his deep voice. “I just want to do my job.”

He studied her for the longest time, until she began to wonder if she’d left a bit of food on her mouth or something.

“So let’s just agree to focus on our jobs, shall we?” he said softly.

She nodded, suddenly desperate for space. With a low murmur, she excused herself and headed for the bathroom.

While Holly washed her hands at the sink, Jake’s suggestion played over in her head. It made perfect sense. Do the job she’d been blackmailed into doing, get what she needed and move on.

If he was here for just an innocent pre-investment visit, then he’d have nothing to hide, right? But if his motives were ulterior, then for the sake of Blackstone’s, she’d be justified in finding out what they were.

But as she straightened her skirt and rechecked her lipstick, she noticed her worried frown in the mirror. Quickly she smoothed it out. Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, Holly.

Jake watched Holly make a beeline for their table but before she could reach him, an impeccably dressed man intercepted her.

She whirled, and her look of surprise, then disgust, registered so clearly that Jake slowly stood. As the man whispered something then glanced over to Jake, her expression smoothed.

She sighed, shrugged and made her way back to the table.

With a frown, Jake remained standing, unashamedly taking advantage of his height against the shorter man. A man who was standing close to Holly. Too close for Jake’s liking.

Irrational anger tightened his muscles, shocking the hell out of him. Through his surprise he heard Holly murmur, “Max, this is—”

“Jake Vance,” Jake supplied and offered his hand.

Max smiled and returned the shake. “Max Carlton, head of Human Resources.”

Ten seconds and Jake had him summed up. Immaculately groomed. Subtly cologned. Even without his intel, he could spot an office player a mile off. It was something in the eyes, the way they shifted and moved, the expression a concentrated effort in politeness. Carlton was too polished, too smooth, and his smile was a blokey smirk that Jake found offensive.

“So how’s Holly working out for you, Jake?”

Jake noted Holly’s frown. “Fine,” he answered smoothly, as if their topic of conversation wasn’t standing right next to him.

Max smiled, a man-to-man grin that set Jake’s teeth on edge. “My assistant’s one of a kind.”

“Didn’t she move to PR over a year ago?”

Max’s face tightened and he glanced quickly at Holly, who gave him an innocent shrug.

“A temporary position,” Max conceded stiffly. “If Holly’s work performance makes the grade, there could possibly be a permanent transfer.”

Jake was so intent on Max’s visible unease that he almost missed Holly’s start of surprise. Then, with a smooth adjustment to his tie, Max said, “If you’ve got any personnel or staffing questions, just give me a yell. Holly knows where to find me.”

Under a rock, no doubt. Jake caught Max’s wink at Holly, who ignored it with a dark frown. But when Carlton’s gaze deliberately roamed down her neck to rest on the gentle curve of her breasts, his eyes narrowed. Intimate knowledge or wishful thinking? Either way it didn’t stop a lick of fury from sparking in his belly.

Slowly he forced his fists to unclench.

“So…” Max said, tearing his eyes away, “I’d better be going. Nice to meet you, Jake.”

Jake glared at Max’s retreating back. He had no right to be angry. What Holly did or didn’t do on her own time was not his business. She was Jake’s assistant, for heaven’s sakes, not his lover.

Pity.

Shaking off the jolt that felt like fire on his skin—especially in one particular part—he turned to Holly. “Charming guy.”

“Some people think so. I just need his signature on my transfer.”

“After you finish with me,” he murmured, suddenly taken by the way her skin flushed underneath her cool mask of indifference.

She nodded and finally sat, checking her watch. “Yes. And you have thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes for what?” He grinned, unable—or was that unwilling?—to keep the suggestiveness from his voice.

She blinked, clearly flustered. “Until your conference call with New York.”

He gave her full points for maintaining that composure as they finished their meal in silence. But deep inside, on a purely predatory level, his mind registered the undeniable heat of desire.

Fool. It wasn’t his mind that wanted Holly. It was something much more primal.

And what Jake Vance wanted, he usually got.