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She could’ve joined the other survivors in their class action suit but that would’ve involved too many questions, too much publicity. For so long the crash had been her first and last waking thought, consuming every hour, every day, every dream and horror-filled nightmare until she’d somehow managed to leave the past behind and focus on her future.
Stop. You can’t go back. Only forward.
Beth rubbed at her eye sockets until her face ached, until she managed to shove those memories away and her shoulders slowly relaxed.
When she softly exhaled, the window misted. She wiped it away. Now was not the time and place to lose it, not when she needed all her wits and strength to deal with the here and now.
Through the window’s reflection she glanced at Luke, but the melting ice in his drink had his rapt attention.
He handled millions, no, billions, on a daily basis, rubbed shoulders and dealt with clients who made ridiculous amounts of money. The sheer scale of the league she was now in blew her away.
“Do you still think I’m your uncle’s secret mistress?” she asked quietly, still staring out the window.
He paused, but when she turned to face him, he shook his head. “No.”
“Good.”
Another moment of silence passed as they studied each other like wary opponents unwilling to concede.
“I’m serious about my offer to buy you out,” he said suddenly. “I can make it worth your while. You can start over in a new place, something closer to Surfers—”
“Let me tell you something.” She shifted, crossed one leg over the other and gave him her full attention. “Imagine someone gives you a car—it’s old, it’s worn, there are a few bumps and scratches on it and a bit of rust. But still you can see the potential behind all that because up until now, all you’ve ever had were total lemons that weren’t even roadworthy. You spend years on improving that car, banging out the dings, replacing the tires, giving it a new paint job. You sweat and obsess because it gives you a purpose, transports you from your studies, from your crappy waitressing and cleaning jobs, and shows you the possibilities that come with a little hard work and determination. It becomes more than just a project—it becomes a part of who you are. And finally, when you’ve got it running perfectly and that sweet feeling of pride sings through your veins, a guy shows up and demands you turn it over to him. Yes, legally I know I’m just a tenant,” she added quickly just as he opened his mouth. “But, Luke, I put my heart and soul into that place when I had absolutely nothing else. Can you understand that?”
After an interminable silence, a faint ring permeated the air. Without a word he pulled out his phone. Beth sighed and went back to staring out the window.
“Connor. What’s up?” Luke said by way of greeting.
“I heard about the commotion on the 10:00 a.m. newsflash.”
Luke ground his teeth and muttered a curse. “Yeah, we lost them on the way to Brisbane airport.”
“Where are you now?”
“Surfers. Pacific Highway.”
“What? And who’s ‘we’?”
Luke glanced at Beth staring out the window then brought his best friend and boss up to speed.
“I see,” was all Connor said when he’d finished explaining. Luke cringed. He could just picture the dark, impassive expression on Connor’s face.
Luke clamped down on his jaw, grinding his teeth hard. Gino was his uncle. Everything he did reflected on Luke, which in turn reflected on Jackson and Blair. And because of that, good men and women had suffered the fallout. Like Connor Blair. The court case may be over, but the securities commission was still determined to put Jackson and Blair through an internal inquiry.
No wonder Connor was on edge.
“So what’s Gino’s connection to this woman—Beth Jones?” Connor finally said.
“No idea. I called Dylan.”
“The ex-con?”
“P.I. now. The guy owes me a favor.”
“You’re supposed to lay low. In case you missed it, that wasn’t a request.”
Luke ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “And I can kiss that promotion goodbye if I don’t get my name cleared.”
“You will. You made a statement and the majority of the Board is behind you. I’m working on the rest of them. Now it’s up to the commission next month.”
“But—”
“You’ve never second-guessed yourself before, Luke. Why now?” Luke remained silent until Connor broke it. “Your cousin still pissed at you?”
“Yep.”
“And this Beth Jones. She’s not a criminal?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“She an ax murderer? A hit man? A reporter?” He could barely keep the contempt from his voice.
“What—?”
“Do you have a natural disaster about to open the ground? A flood? A bushfire that will raze the house? Because these are the only things I’ll be looking for if I see your name in the papers.”
“Mate …”
“I don’t want to hear it. This latest news flash is the last straw. The company’s under an internal investigation and my soon-to-be vice president is accused of money laundering only because he shares blood with Gino Corelli. Unless your life’s in danger, you are going to wait this out.”
Luke thought of a dozen comebacks, none of them adequate. “How long?” he finally said.
“Take the rest of the month. I’ll give you a call when you need to come in for the hearing.”
He could hear a faint sound in the background, which meant Connor had grabbed a pen and was tapping the end on the desk. Luke could just imagine the accompanying facial expression—a mixture of weariness and caution.
“Okay,” Luke conceded.
“Oh, and Luke?” Connor said suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“Get a massage. Otherwise you’ll get a headache.”
Luke cut the call then settled back in the seat. Beth was on her phone, pressing buttons. “I missed a called from the agent and she texted me,” she said. “We can call her back in an hour.” She returned the phone to her pocket. “A bit pointless now, though.” She sighed and changed the subject. “So you’re up for a promotion.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the job?”
“Vice president of international investments.” He tapped the phone against his knee, thoughts churning.
“Think you’ll get it?”
“Right now, I have no idea.”
Silence fell. Then, “This is not good, is it?” she asked softly.
Luke finally glanced over and their gazes met.
There it was again, that odd vulnerability. It jarred deep inside, stirring long-buried feelings that set his whole body on alert even as he tried to quash it. He’d given up on that dumb compulsion years ago. But now, looking into Beth’s face with those wide green eyes and that guarded expression, he felt the familiar overwhelming urge to protect her from all the world’s wrongdoings.
She doesn’t need you to look after her. You need her out so you can sell that house and give Rosa the much-needed money. Then things will go back to normal.
“Well,” he said slowly, “it’s not all bad.”
“And what’s your definition of ‘bad’?”
“No one got hurt and we have some answers.” He settled back in the seat and laced his fingers behind his neck. “On a scale of one to ten it’d rank at about seven.”
“Including the press ambush?”
He arched one dark brow. “Now you see why I wanted to fly solo? The press would eat you alive.”
Beth swallowed. How little he knew. And why was he picking her apart with that look? She needed the Luke of last night—arrogant and argumentative—so she had a legitimate reason for disliking him.
For one heartbeat Beth wondered what it’d be like to have all that long-lashed, dark-eyed charm smiling only for her.
She stared at his mouth. A delicious-looking mouth with a full bottom lip. A totally kissable mouth that a woman with half a brain would fantasize about.
Don’t even think about it. Luke was definitely a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” guy. Unpredictable, career-devoted and an attention magnet. Attention she had spent years avoiding. Getting involved with him—however superb the encounter promised to be—was the last thing she needed.
She looked away even as her skin began to tingle annoyingly. “What’s our next move?”
“So you’re determined to stay?”
“I still have a lease, in case you’ve forgotten. Legally—”
“Look, if you were in any position to call a lawyer you would’ve done it hours ago. Right? So if you’re not moving out and won’t consider my offer, it leaves with me with only one option. I’m moving in.”
Her mouth gaped before she snapped it shut. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking. I’ve got reporters camped out at my apartment, so I can’t go back without leading them to the house. And—” He stopped abruptly, but she already knew what he’d been about to say.
I still don’t trust you.
Well, fine. She didn’t trust him, either.
“Take it or leave it, Beth. Do we have a deal?”
As the moment stretched in the cool silence, Luke tried to ignore that wide-eyed stare, the frustration and indignation playing out so clearly on her face. Tried, but somewhere inside, something tugged annoyingly on his conscience.
Finally, she said, “Why are you doing this? There’s nothing more to find out and the house will be yours in three months.”
“Because I’m involved.”
“You want to make sure your name stays out of the papers.”
“Yes. And because, a long time ago, there was no one there to help me or my family.” He deliberately avoided those accusing eyes, lingering instead on her mouth.
Damn. Bad move.
“You were told the owners were overseas, right? So why would they lie to you? Plus, there’s the mater of your missing money.”
Luke watched her expression go from shock to resentment, her cheeks twin flaming spots of frustration. He could practically see the steam coming from her ears.
“Get on board or leave, Beth.” He added, “I can help with your bank problem—”
She pulled out her phone and dialed while Luke remained in frustrated silence.
“So a woman came in claiming she was a friend of the owners requesting the tenant be ‘preferably female, single, nonsmoker, employed or owning own business.’”
She nodded, studying him as he proccessed that information. “It’s time to pay my aunt a visit.”
Luke must have let something slip in his expression because a small frown marred her forehead as she studied him.
“You don’t want to see her,” she said slowly.
He shrugged. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh, the scowl, the tight jaw. The way you’re narrowing your eyes right now. Plus the lawyer told you in no uncertain terms you should.”
He remained stubbornly silent until he finally said, “I haven’t seen her since Gino’s will reading two weeks ago.”
“So why—”
“It’s complicated.”
“I see.”
And still she continued to sit there, watching him in silent scrutiny until frustration seeped warmly from his skin.
“First this inquiry, then Gino’s heart attack, the funeral. She’s been through a lot.”
“So have you.” When she tilted her head, a blond curl slid across her cheek. “All that anger isn’t good. You should see someone.”
“I don’t need a shrink.”
She brushed the curl away. “I meant a physiotherapist or masseuse.”
