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She blinked nervously. He was close but not close enough to invade her space. Yet she could sense the warmth from his broad, impeccably suited body, the single-minded focus as his eyes freely roamed over her face, coming to rest at a spot dangerously close to her mouth.
She tried to swallow but it felt like dust clogged her throat. “I’m just here to do my job, Mr Vance.”
“Really.”
His scepticism irritated: it was obvious he trusted her as much as she did him. Still, she met his considering look with one of her own, willing calm into every inch of her humming body. “Yes. Shall we get back to your investment, Mr Vance?”
“Jake.” In an echo of his movements in the Blackstone’s basement, he pulled his phone out and checked the screen. “I need to know how the family interacts,” he said as he pushed a few buttons. “I’m not going to invest in Blackstone’s if they can’t control their in-fighting. And then there’s Matt Hammond, a man who’s publicly and repeatedly voiced his hatred of Blackstone’s and who now owns ten percent of the shares.”
Holly paused, see-sawing between honesty and loyalty. This was another test. He already knew the answers but wanted to see how far she’d go.
Damn the man.
“You know the Hammonds and Blackstones have a long and tragic history,” she said tightly to his impassive face. “Yes, Marise used to work for Blackstone’s. Yes, she married into the one family Howard despised. And on her death—”
“Ursula’s jewellery and diamonds went to Matt and Marise’s son, Blake.” Almost as if bored with the interrogation, he studied the passing traffic as they exited the Harbour Bridge. “But one diamond’s still out there.”
“Still lost,” Holly conceded, stopping before she added, just like James Blackstone.
Lost.
A strange shiver brushed over Jake’s skin, like the fingers of a dead woman grazing his conscience.
A lost diamond. A missing Blackstone.
The awful comparison sneaked into his head and lingered as he absently rubbed his arm where his so-called mother had dug in her fingers, the death grip from that frail hand suddenly sharp, astute.
Don’t hate me, Jake. Her eyes had taken on a fevered quality, wide in her sunken face. I wanted you so much. I love you more than anything.
And now here he was. Not lost any more. So why did he still feel like some shipwreck survivor adrift on the sea?
Two hours later, a pregnant Jessica Cotter Blackstone had met Jake and Holly at the back door to the exclusive Blackstone’s Sydney store and guided them to a private showing room.
Holly shifted in her chair and recrossed her legs. Up until now, she’d always liked this room for its ample, airy space. But with Jake sitting so close, even the long glass-topped mahogany display table wasn’t sufficient to ward off the strange little buzzes zapping her body.
She glanced to her right, to the huge photo of Briana Davenport above a display cabinet. Dubbed the Face of Blackstone’s, the model was glancing into the camera over one shoulder, a sensual smile on her lips, drop diamonds shining from her ears, matching the sparkle in her gorgeous eyes. Holly had seen Jessica look at the picture when they’d first arrived, then apologetically at Jake. He’d merely shrugged, but Holly had watched the way his attention lingered on the stunning face of his former flame.
She shook her head. The man had dated practically every available, gorgeous socialite in Sydney. He was a confirmed bachelor. A confirmed serial dater, her all-knowing flatmate Miko would say with a toss of her jet-black hair. Jake had proved her rich man–supermodel theory in spades when he’d taken up with Briana. With the press alluding to marriage at one stage, it must have cut the man’s ego deeply when she’d thrown him over for millionaire lawyer Jarrod Hammond who was also, ironically, Matt Hammond’s brother. Jake had been suspiciously absent from the spotlight in the weeks that followed…unlike the Blackstones, with their undeserved trials and tribulations.
More than once her mind had lingered on the comparison between AdVance Corp and Blackstone’s. Just like Howard, Jake Vance had started from nothing. But where Jake was a lone wolf, Howard Blackstone and his family had created a dream, nurturing it into the multibillion-dollar business it was today. Despite that success, people had loved to hate Howard Blackstone. There was that something in Jake Vance, too, something that made her quake. It was the same ruthlessness, the cold look in their eyes. Even Max, with his skilled ability to diffuse the most volatile of arguments, wasn’t exempt from Howard’s displeasure. And like Howard, once crossed, nothing short of total destruction would satisfy Jake Vance. She had no doubt if you incurred the man’s displeasure, you’d know about it.
So what will he do to you when he finds out you’re nothing more than a corporate spy?
Her heart, already pounding with nervousness, started to throb in earnest. If he found out. If.
Jessica finally returned with a velvet tray and Holly determinedly ignored the flutter of helplessness starting in her belly. Instead, she watched Jake, who was concentrating intently on Jessica as she explained the cutting process, the rarity of pink diamonds and alluvial deposits. When she referenced something in the store brief she’d prepared, he looked down at the document and Holly became all too well aware of his hair as it slid over his forehead. It was too long to be called a military cut, too short to be completely unconventional.
It looked clean. Shiny. She resisted the sudden urge to lean forward and sniff. Instead she remained still, only half-surprised that her breath quivered on the way in.
His tall, commanding presence, so supremely confident in an expensive dark grey suit, had her itching to scoot her chair back to the outer edges of her comfort zone. He might be an arm’s length away, but she was too close to escape the aura that radiated from him like some kind of will-numbing drug.
Jake shook off the tiny prickles of sensation from Holly’s scrutiny and deliberately focused on the tray of diamonds before him. As Jessica turned a huge yellow-stoned ring deftly into the light, it created a kaleidoscope of rainbow shards across the room. So this was the fuel for Howard’s obsession. If he’d been hoping for answers in the multifaceted polished depths, he was disappointed.
“Blackstone’s is famous for our candies,” Jessica said, replacing the ring and picking up a blue-stoned bracelet set in silver. “Pale-canary to deep-sun yellow. Pinks, blues, greens. If I know Holly, she’s already told you about our wares.”
Jake zoomed back in on his too-silent assistant and directed his question at her. “How much are pink diamonds worth?”
He noted the way she shoved back her hair, the jerky movement containing an underlying tension. Yet her eyes were as sharp and clear as the gemstones he’d been viewing. “At a 2004 Sotheby’s auction, a 351 round 1.23 intense purplish pink went for just over a hundred and forty-three thousand dollars a carat. Minimum bids started at a hundred thousand dollars a carat.”
“So something like—say, the Blackstone Rose, would be…?”
“The four round trillion-cut diamonds were seven carats each, the pear-shape center, ten. At the time it was worth millions. Today…who knows?”
The cool and matter-of-fact way she imparted that information intrigued him. He’d never known a woman to be so calm when discussing the glorious brilliance of a priceless gem. She’d been more into Blackstone history than what made Howard a dizzying financial success.
In the small space of a day she’d piqued his interest, both physically and mentally.
“Try it on.” Jessica grinned at Holly, forcing Jake’s attention back to the tray of diamonds spread before him like party trinkets.
When Holly smiled he got the feeling this was a familiar scenario for the two women. He watched her finger the blue sapphire solitaire, running her thumb pad almost reverently over the square gem on a gold band, surrounded by tiny diamonds. In the background, Jake heard Jessica recounting some statistics about diamond mining but, at this moment, Holly commanded his attention.
Slowly, sensuously, she slid the ring over her knuckle, until it came to rest at the base of her finger.
An image burst forth, unwilling, unbidden. Holly wearing that ring and not much else.
His throat suddenly became drier than the Great Sandy Desert.
“That’s bad luck, you know,” he murmured. Her eyes shot to his as he clarified. “Putting a ring on your wedding finger without a proposal.”
She paused, obviously testing her retort, until Jessica answered with a laugh. “Don’t tell me you believe in old wives’ tales, Jake?”
“My mum swore by them.”
Jessica’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
He waved her apology away and instead picked up a pink diamond.
Holly quickly placed the ring back on the tray as her senses registered the faint teasing smell of Jake’s cologne. She didn’t want to look, shouldn’t look, but somehow, she found herself engulfed in those intelligent green eyes. Too eagerly, her body leaped in response. Warmth started in the pit of her belly, heating as it unfurled and spread. Oh, my.
His eyes skimmed her face, betraying nothing but cool perusal. If she hadn’t seen the spark of heat in his eyes that morning, she would’ve said he was a damn robot.
Do not think about that. Think about your mission.
She followed his movements as he picked up one stone, then another. Yeah, she was a regular Mata Hari all right, trying to uncover the deep dark secrets of Mr Midas Touch himself. As if she’d find anything that wasn’t already in the public domain.
As if there’d be anything out there he hadn’t already personally vetted and approved.
The problem was, she realised as they left the store, Jake was rapidly becoming so not what she’d expected. He’d greeted the heavily pregnant Jessica warmly, pulling over a comfy one-seater for her instead of the harder official viewing chairs. He’d silently flicked through Jessica’s brief of the store, asked intuitive questions about the stones and the staff. And why had he wanted to see the diamonds? It didn’t matter what a bunch of gemstones looked like. It was Blackstone’s ability to make money that mattered. If selling cow dung turned a profit the man would be interested.
She stared out the car window, at the mounting peak-hour traffic. She needed to remember that Jake Vance was a ruthless man. She’d read about his famed decisiveness, his superior negotiation skills, all borne from his meteoric rise from the ashes following false accusations from Jaxon Financial’s CEO. One interviewer in particular wasn’t impressed by Jake’s success, labelling him as “autocratic, cold and poisonously polite.”
Jake had the ability to destroy people in so many different ways that it took her breath away. That should be enough to turn her off. So why did her brain have to act so damn… female when he was around?
As if sensing her thoughts, he glanced at her.
Their gazes clashed and for a second she felt a brief flicker of scalding heat before—Yep, there came the shutdown just before he returned to the brief.
Now he was just plain irritated. As if she was the last person in the world he wanted to see.
Yeah, I know how that feels.
Her phone suddenly rang, cutting off her thoughts.
With a soft groan, she noted the number. “I need to take this. Excuse me.” Without waiting for Jake’s acquiescence, she angled herself towards the window and took the call.
Minutes later, as her mother’s bank manager spelled out the dire straits of her predicament, Holly’s stomach dipped. The brief feeling of nausea was quickly followed by an irrational wave of injustice. Here she was, in the midst of almost obscene wealth, while her parents were struggling with the fallout of one stupid business decision.
The faint tinge of guilt roiled in her stomach as she clicked off the call. If only she hadn’t been a typically selfish teenager, nagging her parents to sell… But now she had to be the strong one and take care of them.
Her breath came out in a whoosh. I need to keep my job, which means spying on Jake Vance.
She stared out the window, at the passing traffic along George Street, a constant reminder of the realities of who she was and what she’d done and what she needed to do to keep her reputation and her family safe.
Jake stared at the document on his lap until he realised he’d been reading the same paragraph five times. During her mystery call, he’d noticed her tense and bow her head. After a few hushed whispers, she’d shoved a hand through her hair and paused. He caught “money,” “payment” and “default” before she finally hung up.
Suspicion arrowed through him like a bolt from heaven. He opened his mouth to say something but suddenly pulled himself short. Her shoulders were hunched in a position he’d seen too many times before. Defeat.
He caught a faint sound. A sigh? No. It was a shuddery intake, almost as if she were trying to draw strength on a breath but failing abysmally. That small vulnerability, hitting below the belt and tightening his chest in a fierce irrational rush of emotion threw him for a six.
Against all logical reasoning, he lifted a hand, but just as quickly, he forced it back to the brief with a thump.
His small movement shattered the air and Holly whirled. “Sorry about that.” She shoved away a stray curl as the now-familiar polite smile spread her mouth briefly. “Where were we?”
“Your hair.”
“What?”
He flicked a finger towards her head. “Your clip’s come loose.”
“Oh.”
She yanked back her hair, a gentle flush spreading across the high curves of her cheeks. Jake couldn’t hide his amusement, which faltered when a sudden unbidden thought flashed through his head. How would she look, hair loose and spread out on my pillow?
At the store, when she had picked up that blue ring, he’d seen a glimpse of something in her gaze. Longing. Wanting. As if she desperately needed but knew she couldn’t have.
His attention flickered back over her face, taking in her profile, that small mole hidden from his view. There was nothing he couldn’t have. Nothing he’d been denied.
Desire cleaved his gut, sharp and urgent. Despite the tight rein on his control, he smiled.
It was a smile bereft of humour. A smile full of grudging admission.
He wanted Holly. At least, his body wanted her and generally, what he wanted, he got. But this time…
After years of business decisions based on a combination of solid facts and honed sixth sense, his gut feeling failed him right now. And in the absence of that, he had to go with what his past had taught him.
Stay away.
“It’s after five. I’ll take you home,” he said curtly.
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Holly crossed her arms with a soft sigh, realising arguing would be futile in the face of his cool determination.
Ten minutes later, they were in front of her apartment building and he’d rounded the car to open her door. When he offered his hand, she hesitated only briefly before taking it.
Bad decision, she told herself. Bad, bad, bad.
After he helped her exit she just stood there, her fingers still engulfed in his. He commanded her attention, unwillingly, effortlessly.
If the May night air held a chill, Holly couldn’t feel it. Instead, the heat of him sucked all the breath from her lungs, leaving her heart jumping merrily along in anticipation. He was staring down at her with those piercing, almost analytical eyes, their bodies too close for her comfort. For one insane second, the romantic in her imagined him leaning in for a goodbye kiss on the cheek but she quickly dismissed the fanciful thought with a blink. Didn’t stop you wanting it, though, did it?
She eased her hand from his warm grip and just like that, the moment shattered. As he stepped back, the night air whooshed into the void, sending a shiver over her skin.
“What’s your phone number?” he asked.
“Why?”
Amusement tweaked his lips into a shadowy smile. “In case I need to call you.”
She felt the hot flush of embarrassment across her cheeks as she reeled off her mobile number and he punched it into his phone.
“Steve will pick you up at seven tomorrow. We’ll be flying to an appointment in Lighting Ridge,” Jake said, pocketing his phone. At her look of confusion, he added, “To check on a new complex I’m building.”
“You don’t delegate?”
“Some things I choose not to.” He leaned against the car, a nonchalant gesture that oddly suited him. “Have a good night, Holly.”
Jake watched as she walked up the pathway to her apartment, her back ramrod straight, her hips swaying in that deliciously tantalizing way. When she unlocked the door, turned to him with a nod and disappeared inside, his smile fled.
It was time to find out just who Holly McLeod was.
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.
